Leaving the prairies was difficult, made easier, though, by the presence of our two sons and their families in the town we now call home. Still, hours and days were spent in silent weeping.
At that season of my life, all I seemed to see and feel was loneliness, endless rain, soggy leaves and the hard work of re-establishing my home-based business. It’s taken time and a few good, swift kicks to my mental and emotional behinds, but I’m really at home here now. I still have days when I sorely miss Saskatchewan but the friends and the music I’ve gained have taken hold of my heart.
Early today I received another insight into the music this place offers: the early-morning voices of multiple birds that gather in the trees next to the bus stop; the whisper of wind reminding the leaves that their days are coming to an end; and, the unique “yapping” of seal lions resting on the beach just minutes from where I am sitting. All songs of praise to their Maker. All reminders to find a song in every situation.
Speaking of sea lions, they’re the perfect example of making music in spite of being less than attractive with a voice that no choir would ever tolerate, let along accept. Briefly, they are large sea mammals with external ear flaps, long fore-flippers, short thick hair and a big chest and belly. Each year they migrate this way then spend much of their time sprawled out on huge rocks near the harbour. Just minutes away from our home, they’re indescribably noisy!
“They’re praising God,” I told myself. “While I enjoy singing that’s on key and in glorious harmony, God loves to hear heartfelt songs, no matter how they sound to anyone else.”
“Sing to the Lord a new song!” (found in Psalms 33,96,98,144,149)
