Post by George on Jul 30, 2008 12:58:28 GMT -5
I wrote this the morning after the end of one very long stressful and anxious day. We all have those days from time to time and this was one of mine. I remembered that there were a few musicians around here that might relate to some parts of it; such as Jeff (Peace) and Bill (Strings).
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At Day's End
by George M. Parler
July 16, 2008
I was utterly and completely exhausted. I was brain dead. 6PM had finally arrived and the day was over . . . I hoped. Without going into all the boring details of the stress that whittled away at me all day I will just say . . . I was pooped. More mentally than most days which always seems to require a larger toll on me physically.
I sat in my room staring at the black silent screen of the TV. My body was tired but my mind would not stop its' insistence to calculate and analyze the entire day. All I wanted to do was forget it . . . for just a moment at least. What I would have given for David to play his harp over me at that moment. I closed my eyes and felt the pools gather beneath my eyelashes. Lord, I'm getting too old for this. I thought. I then once again thought of David.
And David was greatly distressed; for the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters: but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God.
~ 1 Samuel 30:6 ~ (KJV)
I found my guitar and laid it on the bed running my hands across the top of the case as if trying to wake someone from their slumber. My tired hands opened the brass colored latches. Raising the lid my hands instinctively reached for the neck of the guitar.
Have you got a minute for me, old friend? I could really use someone to listen. My hands brushed across the strings. The sound was a cool cloth across my neck. Sitting in the chair I leaned my head over and put my ear to the topside of the guitar as I pulled it tight against my chest and listened. In the silence of the room I could hear it. I closed my eyes and listened to the beating of my heart through the guitar. My hands heard the rhythm and began to feather a melody of their choosing. My old friend began to comfort me with songs that needed no words. I drifted as my mind finally began to release its’ hold on the toils of this day.
It wasn’t long until my guitar and I were as one as I remembered where my joy comes from. Once again I played to an audience of One wondering if the beat I played to was from my heart or was my God tapping His foot to my song unto Him. I played on into the night.
When my hands rested on the final notes of the night I listened to the fading sounds into the silence. My heart and mind were still. Once again I had found that peace away from the noise of this life. I breathed in the tranquility in the air around me as I returned my guitar to its’ resting place in the case. Until next time, old friend, I spoke softly as I closed the case at the close of my day . . . Encouraged in the Lord my God.
<><
George Parler
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At Day's End
by George M. Parler
July 16, 2008
I was utterly and completely exhausted. I was brain dead. 6PM had finally arrived and the day was over . . . I hoped. Without going into all the boring details of the stress that whittled away at me all day I will just say . . . I was pooped. More mentally than most days which always seems to require a larger toll on me physically.
I sat in my room staring at the black silent screen of the TV. My body was tired but my mind would not stop its' insistence to calculate and analyze the entire day. All I wanted to do was forget it . . . for just a moment at least. What I would have given for David to play his harp over me at that moment. I closed my eyes and felt the pools gather beneath my eyelashes. Lord, I'm getting too old for this. I thought. I then once again thought of David.
And David was greatly distressed; for the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters: but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God.
~ 1 Samuel 30:6 ~ (KJV)
I found my guitar and laid it on the bed running my hands across the top of the case as if trying to wake someone from their slumber. My tired hands opened the brass colored latches. Raising the lid my hands instinctively reached for the neck of the guitar.
Have you got a minute for me, old friend? I could really use someone to listen. My hands brushed across the strings. The sound was a cool cloth across my neck. Sitting in the chair I leaned my head over and put my ear to the topside of the guitar as I pulled it tight against my chest and listened. In the silence of the room I could hear it. I closed my eyes and listened to the beating of my heart through the guitar. My hands heard the rhythm and began to feather a melody of their choosing. My old friend began to comfort me with songs that needed no words. I drifted as my mind finally began to release its’ hold on the toils of this day.
It wasn’t long until my guitar and I were as one as I remembered where my joy comes from. Once again I played to an audience of One wondering if the beat I played to was from my heart or was my God tapping His foot to my song unto Him. I played on into the night.
When my hands rested on the final notes of the night I listened to the fading sounds into the silence. My heart and mind were still. Once again I had found that peace away from the noise of this life. I breathed in the tranquility in the air around me as I returned my guitar to its’ resting place in the case. Until next time, old friend, I spoke softly as I closed the case at the close of my day . . . Encouraged in the Lord my God.
<><
George Parler
. Welcome back to our forum, brother George ... both of these new threads helped to speak His peace into my heart in this early morning -- thank you! 
Most people understand the message in this piece but only a musician truly understands the connection between the musician and his instrument. Especially if he, or she, is a worshiping musician. The instrument then becomes an extension of his, or her, worship.