In my childhood, whenever a visitor would drop by on a winter’s night, dear Dad would almost always say in the course of the evening: ‘Sing a song, Bridge’. Off I would go, without a thought or a care, never would it enter my mind to refuse, that was just the way it was. One time, an older sibling shared with me how difficult she thought it must have been to stand and sing just like that, impromptu. I remember being surprised, slightly confused, in my mind it was enjoyable, normal and natural.
The manner in which history repeats itself utterly fascinates me. Over fifty years ago, when I sang for my Dad and his friend in our compact cozy family home, little did I realise I was in training for this wonderful life I live now, singing with Jesus.
On the Pilgrimage of life, in the economy of Salvation, nothing is wasted, every tiny item vital, a place for everything and everything in it’s place.
‘God knows how to put everything in place, like a jigsaw puzzle, to make a beautiful picture’. (Corrie Ten Boom)
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