Eavesdropping with my eyes
My name is Dawn – and I am a lakeaholic. (Come on, it’s your cue – “Hi Dawn”)
Furthermore, the man I am married to is a lakeaholic.
If we are on a date and there is no where else we have to be/go we head to the lake. We drive by the lake, we sit and watch the lake. Frequently we open the windows in the van and freeze (at least right now) while we try to hear the waves crashing….upon the ice. 😀
This week on our date, we managed (HA – like WE can manage anything?) to arrive at the lake minutes before the sun was setting. The horizon was ablaze with pinks and rich, dusky lavenders, as well as errant oranges that were trying to sneak their way into the picture. It was breathtaking. While we were watching the water and the waves and the ice, which was turning a icy gray-blue, I happened to turn my head –
There, just beyond where we were sitting was a man who was standing in his front window, facing the sunset and….playing his violin. He was playing passionately. Even though glass (both from our van and his house) kept me from hearing what he was playing, I could tell by his face and the speed that his fingers and arm were moving that he wasn’t just playing any Bach sonata. It was much more like a Paganini caprice.
I felt like I must be eavesdropping on a conversation between Father and son. The son, offering all that he is, all that he has, all that he loves up to his Father in worship – and the Father responding by filling the sky with His response of love and delight. The more beautiful the sunset, the more passionate his playing became. It was such an intimate, personal moment I felt like a voyeur watching their interplay – but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was obviously a total act of love – on both their parts.
When I turned back to watch the last few moments before the sun passed beneath the horizon and disappeared, so too the son disappeared. I am certain that the Father was sorry that their performance of love was over. I know I was.
For your listening pleasure – a bit of Paganini – by an 11 yr old. Sorry I can’t provide the sunset to go with it.