A bevy of women gave us a quilt when we were married forty three years ago today. The blocks each reflect a song John and I have written, though they were rendered in the biblical language they came from. Some are embroidered in Hebrew, others in Greek, and a few in Latin. There are other embellishments like a sunrise, and clothes scattered on the ground. 

Music has been a theme in our marriage, and it is our great joy to still harmonize together. Most days John plays the piano, and many Sundays we lead the congregation in praise. If the topic that week focuses on a story we have composed a piece about, we include it. In the four decades since that sunny morning on a hill we have created many more songs based on scripture, and collected them into a book. We consider it our tenth child. 

The other day I was thinking about the women who created that quilt. As my eyes floated around their stitches I realized some of the changes that have happened to them. Three are widowed. Another three have gone to heaven. 

Yet here in my lap is the beauty they each left behind, and the careful stitches they imprinted in fabric on our behalf. 

God kept such particulars to Himself that day, not choosing to burden any of us with concerns for the morrow. Maybe I can trust Him to give us reasons to sing for the next forty three years.