I pluck out notes on my dulcimer. Trying to find the tune of the song playing quietly in my iPhone.
The desire comes from a deep place. I want to play the songs, adding my instrument to the lyrics. Making them somehow more mine.
Pressing the words in through frets, fingers.
He’s rich in love and slow to anger.
My heart swells.
Thou hast not left me, though I oft left thee.
Tune my heart to sing thy praise.
The early morning birds join my chorus. Or I join theirs.
The breeze. Rising sun. The whole earth worships.
And I am found.