November 2, 2006
Something Good Will Happen Somehow

More about the pentatonic kalimba/pentatonic scale.

While waiting for my plane to DFW I saw a woman across the Tucson terminal with very striking glasses. They were very large and purple, and my eyes kept being drawn back to this woman, who appeared to have dark purple rings under her eyes. Why would anyone get such hideous glasses, I thought to myself.

I boarded the mostly-empty plane and went to my seat in the rear. The woman boarded after me, and she came to the back of the plane. "My seat is up there somewhere, but I would like to sit back here," she told a flight attendant.

"Sit wherever you like."

When I went to the toilet in the middle of the flight, I saw that she had removed her glasses, and that she had been hit in the face. I don't know how she got her black eyes, but I was horrified--and wanted to do whatever I could to help this stranger heal.

So sitting in my vacant row, one row in front of the stranger, I played my kalimba, praying for healing, praying for strength and wisdom for this woman, that she might know how to deal with whatever situation she could be in. I don't know if she heard or felt any of this, and I was too embarrassed to talk to her. I did not want to draw attention to her or her appearance.

In the seat in front of me, a girl about 5 years old squirmed and looked through the gap between the window and the seat to see what was making that mystifying noise that she had never heard before. I moved the kalimba into her view and played a bit more. One lone finger extended towards my kalimba, and I moved the kalimba forwards. She touched it, made a single sound, and withdrew her finger. I leaned over to see through the gap, and saw her smiling face. She got it, she understood. I had touched someone, and maybe she would remember that moment for the rest of her life.

We put out the best we can into this world, but we don't know what will become of it. We can only trust that something good will happen somehow. That is my faith.