My eight-year-old daughter recently performed in her holiday piano recital.
Normally I get teary-eyed watching my children in any type of performance, whether they are singing at the top of their lungs atop a rock at the park or whether they are in a packed auditorium with sheet music and a microphone.
But my child’s musical rendition isn’t what brought me to tears on this cold day in late December. It was a gesture so small and so inconspicuous that it could have easily been missed.
But because I am on a journey to grasp what matters, I am constantly searching for divine signs of inspiration along the way.
This was one such sign …