Yes, Jesus Loves Me

I've been here since yesterday for a four day stretch of time in the big woods.  Mama's caregiver drove South for Christmas and my siblings and I are covering.  

My son and his love showed up to offer support and what he doesn't even realize is so much more than I can explain.

Like his father and me, he likes music.  But he gets into it with a fine tooth comb and picks it apart and puts it back together again.  Although his work isn't for everyone, especially God fearing Christians and respectable mothers of young children, I view his work as art.  And he's only getting better. 

He's always had a special love for his Grandmother and I've witnessed his heart fracture when he sees how lost she can be.  So he wanted to put her mind to music and write a map to wherever she might land in the moment.  

He lugged most of his music production equipment here this morning, cleared her dining table and placed it all just so.  When he was ready to begin, he called her over and asked her to play a keyboard she had never seen before.  Even though her old piano was a few feet away, she sat down and raised her wrinkled hands above the keys and read the music from the hymnal I held open.

Each song was strained and mistakes were noted on her face more so than in our ears.  My son encouraged her to try again.  We went through several pages, none of them good enough for him to use, and she was getting tired.  I moved the book away and asked her to play something from memory.  Anything.  

She sat there for a minute, cocked her head slightly to the left, and let her fingers bring that keyboard to life without a flaw.  

When she was done, Brandon smiled and nodded his head.  And then he worked for most of the day.  

The beginning is what she played from memory.  And in that moment, her memory was without blank spaces. 

What he added in the middle is what he imagined her mind must be like at times. Hearing familiar sounds that become strained and confusing.  Busy and loud and different and wrong.  Until a moment or a few minutes or hours later, none of it ever existed and it all falls back into place.

I love you Mama.  So does Brandon.  And yes, Jesus loves you most of all.