Thank goodness for Twitter! Another of the fine ladies I follow, Natalie Witcher, posted a fine piece o' bloggin' today. As I was composing my comment and began my third paragraph, it occurred to me that I didn't need to hijack Natalie's comments. I HAVE A BLOG! Of my very own! So here is another post, brought to you, in a round about sort of way, by the fine folks at Twitter.
I have a 12-year-old daughter. She loves animals, particularly horses. She is learning to apply makeup. She tends to write or draw out her feelings rather than talk about them. She also plays the harp. She has occasionally lamented her calloused fingers with their short nails and thick, muscular construction. Her friends have dainty fingers, and a few of them sport stylish manicures. This child has gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, legs for days (NOT inherited from her mother. Whatever.) and what can only be described as "Jhirmack Bounceback Beautiful Hair" (and if you're not old enough to get that reference, I'm not sure we can be friends because I'm obviously old enough to be your babysitter). My point is that she's a lovely girl with many attributes that I would think would be much more noticeable than fingers, but what does she think about when she looks at herself? That's right. Her fingers.
Yesterday, there was a plumber here. He saw the harp in our music room and asked me if I played it. I laughed and told him that our daughter was the harpist. He remarked that he'd never seen a harp in person, so I asked if he'd like to hear her play. "If it's not too much trouble, yes ma'am, I'd love to hear a song," said the giant black man in the plumber's uniform. Olivia sat down, pulled the harp back and adjusted the pedals. The plumber pulled a chair up close and watched in rapt attention as she played Beethoven's Glissando Waltz. When she finished, he gave her a standing ovation that I could tell came from the bottom of his heart. He said he'd always remember that day and told her that if she stayed with it, she would bless a lot of people someday. She thanked him, I paid him and he went on his way.
Later, Olivia decided to polish the short nails on her thick fingers a startling shade of blue.
I have a feeling we may have entertained an angel unawares.