Bluegrass. It can heal you.

This fella (& lady) below pretty much raised me.

He also pretty much lived on bluegrass music.

Source: bluegrass.com via Liz on Pinterest

I'm talking banjo's & yodeling.

Source: google.com via Liz on Pinterest

(The truth comes out, I'm a country girl at heart) I was raised so far out in the country that there still isn't cell or internet service available at my grandparents house. (Another tid-bit about me, I lived with my grandparents for about 10 years...w/ my mama too of course)

My grandpa was always singing or yodeling or pretending to play a fiddle. It was never dull when he was working in the garage and I was playing in the mud making pies. Or picking mushrooms from the yard to use in my play kitchen. (that ultimately got me and the grampy in lots of trouble from the mama, ya know because mushrooms from the yard are wild and full of fungus and I was bringing them into the house to play with) Or when I would hitch a ride all around the "farm" on the back of the tractor. And when he hand dug & built a ginormous pond, I was there listening to him sing.

Over the years he began to meet different families that sang bluegrass style music. Like full on 8 kids who all play instruments and sang their hearts out. We would all pile into the car and travel to wherever these families were performing if it was close enough to drive. Set up our lawn chairs. And simply enjoy the music.

Now I can't deny that at a certain point in my "teen-hood", after my mama had gotten married & we had moved out, I out grew the whole going to see bluegrass families sing. I mean, come on a teenager does not find that type of music enjoyable, do they? I certainly didn't.

Then I grew up some more. And my grandpa's sickness started to show it's ugly head again. Bluegrass music became a part of me again. Or perhaps it never really left me. I just pushed it down, because I thought it wasn't cool. Well it was cool. It was cool when we got my grandpa's favorite family band to play at my grandma's surprise birthday party. It was cool when we went to a family band performance and I got to see my grandpa enjoy himself. Sing along with the band. Tap his foot. Pretend to play his fiddle. Just simply enjoy the music.

It's soothing really.

It was cool when we got to go, as a family, to see one of his favorites perform just a few months after he passed. And the family grew emotional with us. They felt our pain, because they knew my grandpa. They knew how much he loved their little musical family. How much he wanted them to succeed.

Music can certainly heal. I believe that 100%. There's no doubt in my mind that God provided music and worship as a way to put situations into perspective and provide a sense of peace. My grandpa was like a father to me. My relationship with him was much more of the father figure than just simply a grandpa. He loved me & he disciplined me. He taught me that God is there no matter what. Regardless of the mistakes we make, God wants us to call on Him through everything. When the time that I lived with him came to an end, I started to spiral. Downhill. Fast. Perhaps, now that I look back on it, I couldn't handle the change. My grandpa was simply there. Telling me I needed to snap out of it. Start making the right decisions. He would tell me I needed to listen to a song. A song that would ultimately teach me a lesson.

My little sisters, although the experience and memories are not the same, now have a fondness for a certain bluegrass group. They don't have that connection through bluegrass to my grandpa like I did, but they certainly see my grandpa's spirit through the music. And they understand it's importance to our family and our healing.

One band in particular touched my grandpa's heart. They are The Doerfels. They are actually from a town about 40 minutes away from where I grew up.

{via}

Ten kids. Two devoted parents. And a whole lot of musical talent. 

The other day my little-little wanted to listen to their CD. Of course she wanted to sing along.

I know, she's cute right?
It makes me sad that my grampy isn't around to see her sing along. He'd be proud for sure.

I miss my grandpa. I miss his wisdom. I miss his laugh. I miss his yodeling. I just miss him.
But I find peace in knowing, our goodbye was not permanent. Through my relationship with Christ, I will get to see my grandpa again. In Heaven.
And he will be healthy.
And we will rejoice.
With some bluegrass music.