Something about the fiddle. The mandolin. Bill Monroe's high pitched yoddle. The real talk of sorrow, loneliness, despair, tragedy, and evil. But there is a chord of thankfulness that runs through the lines. I hear gratitude in the plucks and harmonies.
I've been reading about grumbling in Exodus, and have been thinking about how grumbling is based on unbelief! God's people didn't believe he could provide-- they would rather be back as slaves in Egypt than to die from Pharaoh's armies, then to die of thirst, then to die of hunger because they didn't see how God was testing them to trust him. I can't see right now how I'm being tested, but I want to be trusting in God's provision and protection, and not relying on what I see I lack in my wilderness. Listening to bluegrass helps me to look away from the present, and fix my eyes on the unseen. It fills my heart with gratitude for him, rather than grumbling for what I lack.
My life has been consumed with a big project at work. It's challenging. Tedious. But I'm trying to make gratitude part of my days and hours, rather than grumbling. Play on, Bill!
