I woke up at 4:30 yesterday morning, coming right out of the worst dream of my life.  It was a dream in which something awful happened to one of my boys, and I don’t even want to go into detail, because it was so  terrible.  It took me a long time to fall asleep again after that, and all morning I felt on edge, haunted by the images that had come at me in my sleep.
It made me think, not for the first time, about how there is a part of me that can never rest, now that I’m a parent. Â I’m far more vulnerable than I ever was before. Â Maternal love is a wonderful and beautiful thing, but it also means that you are open to being hurt to an extent you can’t fathom before those kids come along. Â And how do we parents handle that? Â How do we keep those fears from overwhelming us?
I try to pray, and trust in God, but there are days — like today — when it is hard to find that comfort in my own mind.  One thing that helped me today  was music.  When I got to my classroom early this morning, I listened to this beautiful setting of Psalm 23, and it helped blunt the edges of my fear.  (It helps that it’s the theme music for the British show The Vicar of Dibley, which is one of the funniest Britcoms out there.  Lots of positive associations.)
When I listened to it a few times, I could relax and move beyond that vivid, visceral reaction to my nightmare.  It was as if the music could reach into all the dark corners, into the places that my own words  and thoughts couldn’t.
Music as prayer: I believe it. Â And need it.
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