The Music of the Soul
I awakened to feel the chill creeping up my arms and legs and robbing my nighttime cocoon of its lingering warmth. Snuggling deeper in my sleeping bag, I lay in the darkness and mused. My watch dial read 5:00 A.M. So much for sleeping in on vacation; I chuckled. The birth of a new day was coming and I was awake to share in its delivery.
A dead branch blowing against the window pane tapped, a light but rhythmic cadence, against the frosted glass. Swinging my legs to the floor, I pushed my feet into the soft pink mules that lay next to the bed. Softly padding across the old oaken planks, I groped along the wall until I felt the entrance to the cabin's little kitchen nook. Not wanting to dispel the magic of the morning, I ignored the light switch and lit a small table lantern instead. Its light streamed across the old hardwood table, creating a soft glow in the still-dark kitchen. How I relished this time to savor the solitude, to wait for the sun to rise! No city noises here in this mountain retreat; only the sounds of silence could be heard. I was far removed from the bustle of taxis and the raucous blare of honking horns; nothing here but the gentle murmurings of nature and the beating of my own heart.
With a piping hot mug of coffee in one hand and a romance novel in the other, I settled myself at the old wooden table to sip my way through several chapters of an equally steamy paperback. Somewhere on the ridge above my cabin, a herd of bugling elk distracted me, drawing me instead, to the doorway. In breathless wonder, I gazed at the horizon, awash in a palette of soft pinks and violets; the hues of an early morning Rocky Mountain sky. Like a canvas come to life under the hands of a gifted painter of light, the colors grew in intensity, kissed by the first rays of the morning sunrise.
No longer content to be alone, I longed for someone to share this moment with, someone who would choose to be with me. Like the churning that accompanies hunger pains, the emptiness of my life gnawed at me. How I longed to be loved! The refrain of a long-forgotten melody from my childhood pressed in on me with urgency. I found myself first humming and then singing the words as I had heard my grandmother sing them years before.
Come, Lord Jesus, be my Guest.
Come and offer peace and rest.
Come Lord Jesus, come and see
How very much I do love Thee.
Come Lord Jesus, while I wait.
My need grows strong, the hour late.
Come Lord Jesus, come with song.
A melody of love, speak long.
Come, Lord Jesus, to my heart
And by your wondrous deeds impart
A gift of love, a work of grace,
A visitation in this place.
Come Lord Jesus, be my Guest
For then I shall be truly blessed.
My tawdry paperback fell unnoticed to the kitchen floor. Right there in the doorway, I dropped to my knees before the Master Painter and began to worship, still singing...
Come Lord Jesus...
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