I remember once when we lived in our old house I came running in the back door, and I dimly but distinctly heard music. Chopin's nocturne in E flat I believe. Tears sprang to my eyes and I wandered into the living room where my sister was seated and said, "I love this house so much I hear music when I enter it!" She looked at me bemused and replied, "I left the stereo on in the bedroom." Ahhh, another moment of romance massacred.
But, thanks to God, I have birthed myself and not my sister. So I have a daughter who spins tales and weaves webs of delight and builds castles in Spain, just like her mommy. (This is the beautiful side of Avonlea and we'll save the gaps it leaves in her memory and common sense for another post (again, just like her mommy)). She dreams large scale and so I don't have the opportunity of fulfilling many of her dreams. (For instance she asked if she could spend her 10th birthday in England). But on Friday Dave and I told her that after two years of longing she could take harp lessons. I found a teacher and a harp rental shop, everything was go. She gasped her thanks and went to clean the kitchen (if you could call it that, this being one of the gaps). When I came in later she looked at me and said, "I'm not saying much because my heart is in my throat." Which put my heart in my throat, so we just looked our love.
This year, one of my goals, was to encourage my children's passions. I have spent the last several months talking to them and listening to them and trying to find how I could best help them develop their interests and deepen their loves. It has been eye-opening to say the least. Some of their passions are utterly foreign to me and others are beloved. But either way, I want them to know they have my sympathy and assistance. With God's help, I will never tell them that I turned the stereo on. Let the romance of passion be immortal!
PS I really love my sister.