Singing

Sometimes I sing to my wife.  I don’t sing very well, so I don’t sing very long.  Just a line or two.  I make up the words.  Sometimes I have to sing, otherwise my wife forgets how much I love her.  My mindless actions and strayings into grumpy old manhood often communicate just the opposite.  It is easy for her to forget.  It’s easy for her to be overwhelmed by my dirty socks, loud snores and my often ignoring her (when my mind is occupied on other things, like writing–I really cannot focus on more than one thing at a time).  But when my mind is not focused ferociously on something out there, something I’m doing, something I’m thinking; then my heart is able to speak to me, and Bonnie fills a large space in my heart.  There are lots of people in my heart, and when I am quiet, I know them there and love them too.  I wish I could sing to them all–but that would be embarrassing.  Bonnie puts up with me.  She has to.  We’re married.
I sing to God too.  Not because God forgets, but because I do.  I sing to God and I remember how much I love Him, how much He loves me, how much He loves us.

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