Her Mama's Love

I played the piano at my daughter's funeral.

That feels a little bit weird. 

But it wasn't weird - it was the only thing I could do.  My brain could not form words to speak anything at the service.  And my heart would definitely not have been able to contain the emotion that would have spilled over if I had tried.

So I played the piano.  It's the only language I know that can communicate what's in my soul.  

I can not describe with words what music does for me.  Or in me.  When we walked into the service yesterday, and walked down the aisle towards where our daughter lay, some of my favorite acoustic guitarists were playing.  I wasn't expecting that.  But oh, how I needed it.  It brought peace to my soul.  It was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my week, and the sound that filled the room made it feel not quite so... empty.  Or awful.  Or like death.

The music made that moment tolerable.  Even beautiful in some ways.  It helped me breathe.

We sang four songs during the service, and I played with the band during three of them.  Like I said, it feels a little bit weird. 

But I needed it.  I so needed it.

It was the only way I could communicate my love, my grief, my sorrow.  And it was one of the only ways I could 'hear' hope. 

I heard our friend, Jeremy, who reminded us of the Gospel yesterday.

And I could hear the promises of life and hope in the songs that we played and sang.

My sweet Elliana may not have heard me play as many times as I would have liked while in the womb.  But I know she heard me yesterday, from the lap of her Savior.  She heard her mama's love yesterday.