The Silent Melody of the Soul

When we embrace the messiness of life with love, magical, life-giving things happen.

My wife and I are spending a week in Illinois taking care of three of her grandkids (eight, six, and four years-old), while her son and daughter-in-law are enjoying a vacation. Not only is it a delight to give Andrew and Stephanie a chance to getaway to relax, play, and enjoy one another, it’s a joy to spend quality time with the kiddos. As a stepparent/grandparent, I’m particularly grateful for how they’ve fully embraced and welcomed me into the family. It makes my heart sing!

As a going away gift, to soften the blow of their absence, Stephanie and Andrew gave the kids warmies. “Warmies” are stuffed animals that you can heat up in the microwave to add some warmth to their cuddliness. They loved them!

That night, after story time Lisa and I tucked the kiddos in. Jamie was especially taken with her cat, so asked me to warm it up for her. I placed it in the microwave for thirty seconds, before saying goodnight to Clark and Theo. Returning to the kitchen, as I opened the oven’s door, my relaxed smile transformed into gasp of horror and confusion.

An eruption of the warmie’s rice-like insides poured out of the microwave onto the stovetop, counter, and floor, while flames leapt from where the animal’s head used to be. “Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed.

Lisa and Jamie rushed in to see what had startled me. Immediately upon surveying the carnage, Jamie burst into guttural, uncontrollable tears. “I’m never going to sleep again,” she wailed multiple times. Not at all diminishing the trauma of that moment, Jamie definitely has a flair for the dramatic!

As we comforted and settled her down, she asked why that had happened. All along I’d been wondering much the same thing. At first, I was convinced I’d caused the catastrophe. Did I somehow set it for longer than thirty seconds? I wondered. Remembering that was not the case, I then thought: Perhaps there was some food residue in the microwave I’d missed that caused this. But then, I recalled I had heated Theo’s warmie up just before Jamie’s. Not only had it been totally fine, I’d checked the turntable and it was clean.

So, I told Jamie—in a six-year-old’s terms—it must have been a manufacturer’s defect. She paused, pursed her lips, and grew quiet, before wondering: “Do you think it was the pipe-cleaner necklace I made and put on it at school?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lisa and I softly told her. “That was it. You wouldn’t have known this, but you can’t put metal in the microwave, as it will spark and catch fire. Not your fault, at all though.” We finished as we held Jamie close.

And, can I just pause to note how thoughtful, smart, and courageous it was for Jamie to realize and tell us that it could have been the necklace she made that caused the catastrophe? She’s incredible!

As Lisa tucked her back in, told Andrew and Stephanie what had transpired, figured out she could get a new warmie at a local grocery store, and went to get one; I cleaned the kitchen. While, in hindsight, we wish we’d have taken pictures of the carnage, we didn’t. So, I’ll paint you a picture.

The microwave was full of rice-like stuffing, and the whole inside was coated in grey and black soot. Their gas stove also had a large amount of the warmie’s insides all over it, as did the floor. There was also some on the counters. When Jamie told her parents “my warmie blew up,” she wasn’t far off!

I’m not entirely sure how long it took me, but it was easily 90 minutes of scrubbing, wiping, vacuuming, and so on. The magical thing is that I lost all track of time. It was as if love for Jamie and the family was moving me from the inside-out. While I felt some frustration bubble up a time or two, that feeling quickly floated away. I was 99.9% in the flow of love

It was a very meditative and contemplative experience. The only thought I really had—and there wasn’t much thinking—was that I wanted to care for Jamie and her family well. My sole focus was love, which had me committed to making that part of the kitchen look better than it had before the warmie-bomb went off. I was simultaneously completely and fully there in the kitchen, and totally elsewhere. It was beautiful and mystical.

Now, while this magical moment continues to brighten and bless my spirit, I’d like to mention last night’s storm didn’t lead to such a calm or transcendent place! As Lisa and I made separate dinners for us and the kiddos (while I talked to my best friend), the fire alarm started going off, while their parents were Facetiming us to talk to them! To help clear the smoke, we opened the doors, which let a few moths flew in. No big deal, right? It turns out, Theo is petrified of moths. PETRIFIED! Without going into all the details, I’ll just say last night ended with early bedtimes for the grandkids, while Lisa and I melted into the couch. LOL That’s why:

I find it important and quite helpful to remember: Life is messy!

With that said, as I initially reflected on my experience cleaning up the kitchen, a poem came to me to describe what happened inside of me. I leave you with those words:

The Silent Melody of the Soul

Chaos lays down all around.

Peace hovers softly above it all.

I scrub the microwave over and over.

But it’s like I’m polishing my life.

Cultivating a brighter gleam,

Then was there before it was marred.

There’s a silent melody in my soul,

Unfolding like the roll of paper towels,

Peace by piece unravels in my hands,

As my fingers salsa across every nook,

And cranny of the kitchen’s dance floor,

Their moves change with the terrain,

From twist to jive to slide to mambo,

Guided by the sweet rhythm of Love.

There is no time.

There is only joy.

The soul smile that comes,

When you’re blessing others.

The stoves of my heart are gladdened.

Hugs & Love,

Lang (aka “Dr. Love”)