![]() ![]() In our whole life-melody, the music is broken off here and there by “rests,” and we foolishly think we have come to the end of time. There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. ![]() ![]() I was feeling rather desolate when I came across a paragraph written more than a hundred years ago by the artist John Ruskin: Not long ago, in the space of a few days, the “music” in my life seemed to stop because of a rejection, a loss, and what seemed to me at the time a monumental failure. Things grind to a halt for one reason or another. There are sometimes spaces in our lives that seem empty and silent. But, since I do have a cranial earthquake taking place, and since that should amount to a time of rest, I will simply type out for you what Elisabeth Elliot, who knew her fair share of suffering in this world, said about the times in our lives When The Music Stops: ![]()
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