I’m waiting here for my life to change,
When the waters stir you can rearrange me.
Just one touch is all I need,
I’ve nothing much but the wounds I feel,
I’m looking for the hand of the miracle man.
It’s easier, simpler, to believe when caught up in music. Music has always had a strong impact on my emotions; it’s easy for me to lose myself in song. But I can’t stay “lost” forever; you have to come down eventually, and you have to make space for the silence too.
The silence brings its own comforts, but it also makes it easier to hear all the nagging little internal voices of doubt.
I’ve not listened to this song for several months. The first few times I listened to it, I found it hard to get into; it builds slowly and the center bridge can seem a bit overblown. This evening I just put it on, closed my eyes and allowed myself to surrender into the music, and feel myself carried along with it as it built up into the crescendo and then down into the quiet echo at the end.
And I found myself almost on the verge of tears. That first verse pretty much sums up what this blog, the Path, is all about; waiting for the waters to stir, reaching out a hand for an answering touch.
Maybe it will never come. Or maybe it will, but I might not recognise it when it comes. I might have been graced with its touch several times throughout my life and not known; or maybe that’s just the wishful thinking of a little girl who once dreamed of being a nun, but has had to set that dream aside as something that will never happen and accept instead the realities of adulthood, where we come to learn that we cannot shut ourselves away from the world but instead must learn to live as part of it.
Which is why we cannot lose ourselves in music, but must come to faith – or not – by ourselves; because sooner or later the music has to end and we have to listen to the silence.
What then will we find? What then will we hear?