Music

I grew up with the sound of the radio hovering over every activity at home. My mom loves to tune in to various radio programs. My dad, on the other hand, usually listened to the music of his generation. And then, there is my elder brother who got into singing. Later on, my youngest brother began to study the violin.

During my high school days, I remember the little choir of our batch. I still can recite from memory certain lyrics of musicals that were such a fad. Music from Les Miserables, Miss Saigon, and then Evita from my college days. And of course, we had the choir as well as the musical presentations at church.

Where am I heading with all of these? I just wanted to say that I grew up with music. I love music. Love humming. Love listening. Love hearing the words crooned by a romantic lover, the despair of a broken heart, the lilt in the voice of a lady being wooed, the contented tone of a reciprocated soul.

But a few years ago, maybe around two, I stopped listening to music. Especially those about the yearning of a heart in search for love. These kinds of songs haunt me. They make me think of things that I know I should not long for. They have a tendency to awaken feelings that could be illusionary when it is not yet the right time. And so I limited myself to the songs of love for my God. In a way, it was my way of surviving. I know that a heart can be taught. Worse, it can be deceived. What the mind thinks, the heart may believe. I truly believe that whatever you feed your mind, it can become the content of the heart. To protect myself, to guard my fragile heart, I chose not to listen to songs that the world feeds our soul.

I do want to listen again to songs of love. I will listen once God has bestowed on me the gift of love from the man He has chosen for me. For now, I am content to sing songs of glory, from my mouth and from my heart.