Chiara woke up from her nap too early and too cranky today. When I arrived at her bed, she clung to me and asked if I would sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat and the Itsy Bitsy Spider. That seemed easy enough. As I started heading downstairs with her, she yelled, “No, in your room,” which seemed kind of odd until I figured out that she wanted me to take the guitar out of my closet and play, something I almost never do anymore.
I was half tempted to tell her that I needed to work and would play the guitar later, but decided that I could squeeze in a couple of songs. I tuned up the guitar and sang her special requests, and then she said, “Now you sing one of your songs by yourself.” And so back and forth we went, a song for Chiara, a song for me. I haven’t sung for me in so long I almost didn’t remember what to sing. As we sat there on the bed, an icy rain clicking against the windows, I suddenly felt a wave of peace settle over me. It was as if Chiara knew exactly what we both needed at exactly the right moment.
By the time we wrapped up our concert, I was playing the chords and she was using a pick to strum, both of us singing — even when she didn’t know the words. My news story might not be done yet, but my heart is full. I hope you find a quiet moment to sing your favorite song this weekend.
Here’s a quote from St. Francis de Sales to ponder as you head into Friday night:
Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.
