Praise Him with stringed instruments. Psalm 150:4
Paul and I drove about 40 miles east today, far out of the woods to an old grange hall in the middle of a sunny prairie in the heart of farmland (is that a run-on sentence?!). The backdrop of the Olympic Mountains was just beautiful. But the music coming out of the grange hall was moreso. We joined the Old Time Fiddlers Association today and Paul is on his way to owning his own violin and meeting some fascinating fiddling folks (and guitarists, banjo pickers, mandolin players, etc.). But today Paul was actually more interested in the finger foods than fiddling. We didn't bring his violin but will next time. This was our first time and they made us feel more than welcome.
I liked this fiddling group right away and could see doors of ministry swinging open as they talked about playing in nursing homes every week, at parties and weddings, etc. It's been my secret wish for years to have some sort of nursing home involvement. I have a heart for older people and enjoy their company so much. I feel more at ease with seniors than those my own age for some reason, maybe because I spent so much time with my granny and she was active in the Berea nursing home.
If the Lord let us pick our gifts before the foundation of the world I would have asked for the gift of music. Yes, even more than writing. I think I'm a fiddler at heart. You'll find a fiddler in every book I write.
Not much writing was done today but being away from it is sometimes as important as being immersed in it. And tonight, after grilling on the deck and sitting in front of that charming chimenea (outdoor fireplace, however it's spelled), I'm ready to start whittling again on the last 100 pages of The Preacher's Daughter. Since I can't fiddle, that is!