Leap of Faith – Ann

Spring begs for a leap of faith.  That’s what Peter made when he jumped out of his boat and into the water to meet the risen Christ.  Once in a while, those illogical leaps in life can really pay off in unexpected ways.

We had so little furniture when the kids were babies that we kept our underwear on the shelves in the linen closet.  Jim took an extra job to remedy the situation.  So, imagine my bewilderment when he came home one night and announced that he wanted to spend all the extra money on a home organ.  Small home organs called “Swingers” were a big thing that year.  Music stores held public concerts in shopping malls.  Crowds gathered to marvel at the stops and switches that made these mini-organs sound like a full-blown orchestra.

I really could not comprehend the madness that had overtaken my young husband’s senses.  He insisted that I go with him to a demonstration.  As soon as I heard the magical music, I, too, became a believer.  The chance of a lifetime opened before us.  Our house would be a home where music lived.  Never mind that Jim couldn’t play any musical instrument and I didn’t know one note from another.  Soon we were flicking switches and pumping out symphony noises to swing with the best of them.

Before long, the novelty wore off.  The organ gathered dust until our daughter Katie, at age four, discovered how many wonderful sounds this oversized toy could make.  We let her bang away.  One day she surprised us by picking out songs we heard playing on the radio.  From our first unreasonable leap of faith, other instruments followed, not only for her but for her younger brother and sister as well.  In the next twenty-five years a piano, trombone, drums, guitars, banjos, a dulcimer, flute, and once, for a few painful weeks, even an accordion graced our household.

The underwear is no longer in the linen closet.  Though, if we had to choose between a lifetime of music and a chest of drawers, you can guess where we would still keep the underwear.  The house is quieter now.  Graduation and wedding pictures line the walls.  Our pictures give mute testimony to the lively children who once made us so tired we fell into bed each night.  We are quite comfortable surrounded by the mementos of our lives.  With only one child left at home, we envision the day when the two of us will be alone.  “What next?” we ask as we scan the shoreline for signs of Christ.

It seems there are two ways to age.  Most of us look for Christ and when we recognize him, we stay in our boat and slowly make our way to shore, dragging our own particular nets of fish.  Then, there are a few of us like Peter. Once we realize where Christ is waiting to meet us, we jump into the water, leaving our nets behind.  I don’t’ think it matters much how we get to the place where Christ waits.  After all, the net draggers provided the extra fish so that everyone could eat.  Now and then, though, I long to be like Peter and leap unencumbered form the safety of my boat.  If I ever gather that much courage, I think a husband with the wisdom to trade a chest of drawers for a houseful of music might be willing to jump with me.