Violinist.

The music was creating space for worshiping God last night. The Holy Ghost was moving powerfully.

Amidst the full sound of a large and well practiced band was a distinctive, beautiful sound. A violinist. The melody and passion were mixing together from her instrument and in turn blessing the people in the room.

As she drew her bow across the strings with masterful skill I began to tear up, God began to speak. He showed me how beautiful the sound was to him. He told me how much he was blessed by her music. This woman of God was stunningly beautiful; and the praise that came from her heart through her violin was breathtaking.

She looked to be about eighty-five.

The two electric guitars, full drum set, bassist, keys, and the vocalists had begun building the sound. Louder and louder came the praise to God. More energy.

The violinist fell into God's arms and played with the passion and vigor of someone a quarter of her age. Quick and sharp arm movements with agile fingers created a melody that brought memories to life.

Her music invoked memories from long ago in me.

Here's the thing though: They weren't my memories. They were hers. I just got to see them.

I saw a beautiful Woman, young and graceful laying in a meadow thanking God for his love. The violinist was laughing with joy at her Father who loved her so much.

As the melody changed to a somber key filled with minors, I saw her tears running down her cheeks while she stood on a hill and asked God why the pain was so prevailing.

Again the music changed to harmony that was delightfully agreeing with the larger band. The sound was beautiful and inspiring. I saw the men in her past finding such inspiration in this violinist. Her beauty extended far beyond the surface and her freedom was contagious to these men. They would fight for her. They would protect her.

Her open worship and God's blessing together let me see into her life and my tears of joy are the only expression worthy of the encounter.

Kendall