If you never came back home

My sister left her house in early August 2008. She never came home.
What we had hoped would be a short hospital stay turned into a three-month journey from which she didn't return.

After her death, we went to the house to gather things for the funeral and there, at her piano, right where she had left it, was her church hymnal opened to the song "Victory in Jesus."

I played that song this morning at worship services at Wabash Christian Retirement Center, and I couldn't help but think what people would find in my life if this day I didn't return home.
What would be open on my piano?

"Victory in Jesus" was a statement of how Brenda lived her life. She was confident of her eternal home, impatient with those who courted anything except a righteous lifestyle, and faithful in her service to others in need.

What would my statement be?

My little sister and I have an agreement that if anything happens to either one of us, the other will go to her house to "clean up" things before anyone finds the less-than-desirable elements of our life we keep hidden from the rest of the world.

Perhaps it's time, though, for each of us to begin living our life as if we weren't coming home; as if what we said that day would be the last thing people remembered of us.

What song will you be singing when you sing the last time?

Practice makes perfect

Photo by Toby Brown, The Carmi Times

As guest Sunday pianist at the local nursing home, I play from the hymnal the home uses for their services instead of my church hymnal. This morning, I stumbled and fumbled my way through the familiar Christmas carol "O Come All Ye Faithful." Though I've played that song for 40 years, in this new hymnal, the song was written in the key of D instead of my familiar key of C. It wasn't that the song was difficult with two sharps, but my brain kept trying to play what I had practiced all those years instead of what was being asked of me today.

We're like that, you and I. We become what we practice. We echo the attitude we surround ourselves with. We live the life we repeat. We do what we've learned to do. And, we do it over and over and over again.

A young states attorney cautioned a group of fifth graders to watch who they hung out with, telling them we become like the people we surround ourselves with the most. Their bad behavior soon becomes our bad behavior. It becomes normal. It becomes practiced. It becomes a song in the key of C, the song our brain automatically tries to play.

Want to read more? Check out my story: "When it matters most" at LikeMyLife.com.

Oh, and yes, for the second morning service, I took out my own hymnal and played the song my brain wanted to play because whether in the key of C or the key of D, "O Come All Ye Faithful" is a song a praise heard best when the right notes are played.