She actually calls it “When.” http://partwild.wordpress.com/daily-prompt
<blockquote>PROMPT: Launch from the sentence-starter, “When I hear that song…,” and keep your pen moving for 6 minutes.</blockquote>
When I hear that song, I cock my head to the side to figure out where it’s coming from. I turn and I look at the sun, behind me, in the treetops, to figure out where it is coming from. I can spin myself in circles searching for that sound. It means love is at peace. It’s a forgotten melody that we’ll only hear when we get there, to heaven. It’s a voice, a helping sound, something that tells us where more is. Yes, there is more. Chiming notes stairstep their way up to that place when you realize where there is more.
Some people think of beauty when they hear an ocean roar. I think of it when I hear that sound, that chime, that guiding musical light that is my stairway to heaven. Bells couldn’t be prettier. It’s probably angels’ wings.
When I get to heaven, I expect the air will be shimmering with rainbow light. I could think of nothing prettier. And I think that light will be Christ.
My favorite Bible verses are about light.
There is nothing more welcoming than being exposed by light. Then ceasing to see darkness. And I expect that’s what it will be like when I cross over. I will cease to see darkness.
I won’t be the same. I won’t be me. I will be my glory-self. We will all be our glory-selves. We will hardly be recognizable without the taint of sin.
So chime on, song. Chime on, bells. Chime on, music. Keep reminding me what I’m searching for. Keep reminding me to turn toward the light.
In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.
It was interesting writing this. Normally I connect that phrase “that song” with my ex. But not anymore.
I only see light.