February 18th, 2017
As I rounded the corner, my ears stilled to the sound of a child’s voice from within the small bathroom to the left of the stairwell. It was muffled by the rush of water, but it was audible nonetheless. I hesitantly stopped and tightened my grip on the bannister to steady myself for what I thought would be a grieving child in pain. Just months after the death of his father, this was a common occurrence. I was unprepared, however, when I realized that the strangled sobs that I had come to expect had been replaced by the hauntingly melodic notes of a child in song.
In that moment as I breathed in the sweet sound from the other side of the bathroom door, I knew that the human capacity for burden-bearing is far greater than one would expect. In those few seconds, I understood with striking clarity that our lives on earth must be spent making music of what remains. Death does not strip from us the promises of a loving God; it simply connects us to them.
Author: Lori Miller