I woke during the night and listened to the cicadas singing their song, cresting with an intensity that echoed in the darkness. A chorus of them joined in making music, their song far out of proportion to the size of the insects that generated it. From a biological angle, the call must be a male mating sign, but from an esthetic perspective perhaps they are expressing their joy at being alive, celebrating existence. I think of the ways in which I make music to show my appreciation to God for the life given me. Certainly I have no pleasing voice to raise in song, but do I, like the cicadas, make use of what I do have to praise my creator? Can I make music of my life by seeking to love, to forgive, to show compassion and be Christian? Too often I fail to take advantage of God’s gifts to me, preferring to be lazy or uncertain as to the worth of my contribution. And yet the cicadas flood the night with song, content to sing without worry or fear of looking foolish. Forgive me, Father, when I refuse to sing the song you have given me with the instruments you provide. Please help me find the music in my life that will serve you. Amen.