Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
Fain would I fathom thy nature specific
Loftily poised in the ether capacious
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous!
My son is learning to play the violin, and this week the song of choice is the one written above.
As I listened to the tentative first few notes, the squeaking of a misplaced bow across the strings, I was reminded of my own initial attempts at writing.
The first few times my fingers were hesitant, my thoughts disjointed. Nothing seemed to fit. The words that at times could flow so easily seemed to have evaporated like mist in the morning sun. I worried and fretted. Could God really have asked me to write; knowing my limitations, my lack of writing education?
My son queried me this week on the same issues. As we drove to his first lesson, he voiced the same fears. What if I'm not good enough? What if, even after I practice and learn and listen, I still can't do it? I listened to his pleas and was instantly transported back to my first critique.
I had sent my precious story to my writing group for their comments. Each day I waited for their response. Would they like my story, even a little bit? Would they make the requisite 'nice' comments so my feelings wouldn't be hurt, or would they tear it apart and announce my writing would never measure up to the world's standards.
You can imagine my mixed feelings when my story came back. I shook as my finger clicked on the email and it opened to reveal...they did like it. They actually liked it and thought it had promise.
Wow. I related that story to Pierce as we drove to his violin teacher. I reminded him that perfect practice makes perfect, while rubbish practice makes rubbish. He smiled a little, gave me a hug, took a deep breath and walked through her door.
My husband and I sat outside and listened. Chickens roamed around us pecking for food. Sheep grazed in the paddocks and a ginger cat sunned herself on the stone steps.
We sat and waited. Soon, the sound we were waiting for touched our ears, and our hearts.
He played. Tentatively at first, and then with joy as his worries melted away.
Tears filled my eyes with every squeak,every misplaced note. My son had listened and won.
What fears have you conquered in your life?
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Up, above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are.
Lee Franklin lives in Western Australia with her husband and violin-playing son. She loves to read, cook and sing to her cows. They, on the other hand, are very glad they're tone deaf.
