How Many Music Makers Can a House Hold?

Night before last, as I looked for a certain old photo in one of our albums, I noticed this one:

“Hmmm… Big sister LaVay does this…”

Well, one thing has led to another for our youngest son Andy.

He composed the music for his sister Chayli’s poem.

I don’t know how he does it…

But he does it like this.

It’s all very mysterious to me. I can’t even tell a ti from a mi, much less a te from a le.

Andrew also has written and musicified some of his own poetry. One of them was for a friend injured in a terrible fall. Two of her children, Chayli, and he sang it for her.

And he’s done some rearranging and combining of others’ songs for his youth group to sing. (And, wow, can they sing!)

So he’s a music maker.

Me? I would be tickled to sing tenor with his confidence and trueness. But I know my pride would get in my way then — maybe that’s why I can’t sing as well as before. So, sometimes I just settle back and bask in the gifts and accomplishments of each of my children. And try to keep pride at bay in a different sort of way.

Can you find any of Andy’s work online? Perhaps snatches and tidbits at Google+ and Facebook. YouTube? I don’t know.

Now, about the photo at the right: Did he hit any high notes up there? (The little red box on high marks his location at one time.)

I was actually much more concerned about the “reception committee” spread out beneath him!

This morning I dashed off a poem in memory of that:

A closing note to parents: Encourage your children to develop their gifts without inflating their pride.

And a closing note to other humans: May He who gives us all good things be pleased and glorified by our stewardship thereof.

Photo credits: Last three by Andy.