a heart ahead of my hands

by willeya

“Gather ’round, ye children, come, Listen to the old, old story of the pow’r of Death, undone By an infant born of glory…”

i cannot listen to andrew peterson without writing.  that is how i know he is a true artist; he inspires art in me.  my good friend elisabeth and her mother invited me, along with their cousin and our good friend, Bethany, to travel the three long hours to attend Andrew’s Christmas Concert.  i am listening to his cd in preparation.

when the songs first played through my house today, i knew none of the words but i just had to sing along.  my dad is like this, especially with new worship songs.  he starts humming as soon as he gets hold of the tune and he fumbles out words he doesn’t know.  this always puzzled me, but now i understand his heart holds the song before his mind knows it exists and can’t help but get ahead of his mouth.

photo (27)

this year, i identify with Mary, who was tired and pregnant and “hid these things” in her heart.  there is something so intimate and complete about carrying life on the inside, that the outside world seems unnecessary.  and so it is with me.  on the outside, a Welcome pumpkin greets you at my door.  but on the inside, there is a crackling fire, twinkly lights, and a heart that is swollen with the quiet joy of the New Life that was born.