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Look carefully...at the seemingly small moments...in the constant shaping of souls.- Neal A.Maxwell

If you want the truth, trust a 3-year old to give it to you
     I was about 12 years old, singing camp songs while pushing a 3-year old on a swing.  "What are you doing?"  asked the 3-year old.  "Singing," I replied.  "Well, don't!" exclaimed the 3-year old.  And I didn't for a long, long time.  When J was born I started singing, just to him.  One day 3-year old J called me into his room.  With excitement he said, pointing to his little tape-player, "Hear that lady? She has a pretty singing voice."  Sigh... I still sang to J though, and then to C when he was born.  And then 3-year old C stopped me when I was singing to him and sweetly said, "Mom?  I like when dad sings."  Double sigh... I still sang to J and C, but no one else at least not until B was born.  I was spared any commentary from 3-year old B, but I still would not sing in front of others. 
     To me music is magic.  It is balm to the soul.  Peace in the home.  Happiness to the heart.  I started voice lessons.  I joined the church choir, I was in the cast of a musical production, I even sang solos at voice recitals. But still, the innocent appraisals of three 3-year olds left lingering shyness in me.  And then in the church nursery today, a fussy toddler climbed off the lap he was sitting on and into mine when singing time started.  He settled in and leaned against my arm as I sang. When song time was over he stayed in my lap for a few more minutes before joining the others for snack time.  Another sigh, but this time it's a contented one.



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