Therapy

Sometimes the greatest therapy is the simplest thing.

To say that I’ve been emotional lately would be about as understated as the National Deficit. The reasons why are mostly unimportant, but I must confess that music has been a large part of it. I have been missing music, and recent events have pushed me to my breaking point, to my “must play, must sing” point. This is a good thing.

So yesterday, after another difficult and long day at work, I went home, changed out of my work scrubs, kicked off my socks, and the guitar and I strolled out on the grass in my back yard.

I landed, eventually, with my blue jeans rolled up to my knees and the sun warming my skin, on top of the picnic table, singing at the top of my lungs. For two hours, I played all of the “old” songs in my brain, the old Caedmon’s tunes that I haven’t sung in years, some songs of my own that I had forgotten, and a few new songs.

There is no greater therapy, friends. And to those of you in Marquette…I am choosing to believe that I summoned this great thunderstorm this morning by singing “April Showers” in the sunshine yesterday.

Be blessed, folks.

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