In the very back corner of a very dark room of a cold antique store, I found this book. Singing in Harmony. As a lover of vintage illustrations, I grabbed it from the pile and leafed through it. This book has been torn, written in with pencil, pen, cursive, print, misspelled words and those spelled correctly, and chewed? In other words, all fifty cents of perfect!
I would have loved to hand myself this book in late August when I was confused and angry. I was wondering how in the world our school day would ever pan out. So much resistance to our routine led me to doubt myself and my ambitions for my boys. I would have scoffed at a book titled Singing in Harmony, for two reasons. One, I didn’t know how to read music. Two, we weren’t feeling at all harmonious.
Fast forward to the little antique shop come February and my smiling as I paged through this book. I feel like we really are singing in harmony these days. Our rhythm is predictable, accomplishable, and rewarding. My children sit and listen, they narrate back what I’ve read, my oldest is taking bold strides in reading, my youngest exploring writing. AND I’ve learned to read and play music. This morning I played Old MacDonald for the boys, yesterday Hush Little Baby.
I’ve learned. It takes one little page at a time. Yes, pages get torn. Yes, pages get written on. Yes, complete pages go missing! But in the end, you fold up your book and look at the title. It’s Singing in Harmony. It’s possible. I’ve learned it’s just one page at a time.