Playdates: How doing what you love keeps the living sweet

When we first met, you all would get together in your parents garage and play, remember that? The wives and girlfriends would pull up lawn chairs, clap our hands. Sometimes we danced. You did that for years—played for no one…for us…for yourselves and the love of the music. Even with the small eyes I had back then I could see it. 
You are most alive when you are making music.
Every February we’d have the Mardi Gras party an how you looked forward to that. A chance to play for all our friends and share this love that burned in you. Back then it was just four guys who’d known each other most of their lives—been through junior high and high school together.
Then Loren moved to Connecticut and you got John to play your bass and you started on rhythm guitar. I remember how you took lessons because you wanted to do your best. On your fortieth birthday you told me that all you wanted was to play music. I found you guys a gig and with John’s help got the rest of the band on board. It was a surprise, but you knew. I told you to take some cool clothes to change into and your shiny shoes. Then you and me and our two children piled into a limo and rode there in style.
You couldn’t stop smiling.
When Mark dropped out because of church stuff, it nearly broke your heart. He was just too busy. And then Steve took over the drums and it was good. Then there were two psychologists in the band. When Linda came along to add vocals—that made three psychologists. You found Dave when you played for the youth at First Presbyterian—remember that? He plays the keys like a crazy man sometimes, but you love it.
You guys have a made a little name for yourself downtown, and now Mark is back—playing harp—and Chris, who has been there all along, is leaving. Friday night you all played with him one last time and it was good. I sat in a booth by myself and remembered those lawn chairs—the four wives. I felt sad about one more change. So many things have changed. You have some gray in your hair now and our boys are as tall as you and along the way you fell in love with Jesus. Now you lead the praise band in church on Sunday mornings.
So many things have changed, but one thing is the same. My eyes are bigger now and I’ve grown so much smaller but I can still see it plain as day.
You are most alive when you are making music.
Have I said how much I love seeing you alive this way? How it fills me up, makes me whole to watch you spread joy like a song? Honey, keep making music until the end. Never stop. It makes God happy, I can feel it.
And I’ll always be there. Dancing to the music you make. Always.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:

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  1. says

    I love your voice in this piece-and the joy that radiates through the words. Yes, we ARE most alive when we are making music- love how God sings through His broken people and invites us all to dance.

  2. says

    such a tribute to the man next to whom you stand. what an honoring, supportive, believing-in kind of love your words communicate.

    really touching.

  3. says

    It’s so great that you recognize this reality about your husband. So many times we miss what really makes our mates come alive. Thanks for sharing this peek at your husband’s passion and past, Laura. We all enjoyed the concert! 😉

  4. says

    I’m glad, Laura, that you can enter in to the mood of your husband’s music making. And that you can consider worshipping God and listening to heartfelt music as a “Playdate with God”.

    How great a God we serve; how thankful we are that he truly love us, and gives us countless ways of appreciating and enjoying him. It blows my mind to think that he “rejoices over us with singing.” One day when we’re in heaven, beyond he limitations of this life and body and circumstances, we’ll get to hear just how wonderful/majestic is God’s singing over us. Won’t that be a grand day of celebration, though!

  5. says

    Ah, Laura. This one made me cry. So sweet and such a story of faithfulness on both your parts. Thank you for this – and thank your husband for keepin’ on keepin’ on.

  6. says

    I have to echo Nancy’s words as another momma to musician kids and the life music awakens in them. You give your husband a precious gift when you get what music means to him! Thank you for the glimpse into your life with him and his music–it’s beautiful!

  7. says

    Laura, I’d love to hear your husband (and the worship band) in person….it is my greatest joy to sing with our worship team and I am always amazed at the musicians.

    What a gift–I understand his joy.

  8. says

    Laura- Love your writing (as usual). This does bring a bittersweet taste to it – the love of the music and the sadness of how things keep changing. I suppose it never turns out exactly as we dream it does. That’s the longing in us that never goes away, the other side of joy.

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