My family spent a couple of vacation days together last week. We traveled to a town a couple of hours away and did some sight-seeing. As we were shuttling between our hotel and one of several places of interest, my husband was listening to some music on the car radio – classical music.

I can’t remember the exact piece, but in the music, one section of the orchestra (I think it was the strings) was playing a very repetitive series of notes. They were all the same rhythmic value and mostly of the same tone: the same note repeated again and again and again while another part of the orchestra took up the melody and movement of the arrangement.

My daughter, MG, who plays the violin, was listening and commented, “This is so boring!” My husband reminded her that this series of repeated notes was actually very difficult to play, not because of any technical intricacies involved, but because of the very real possibility of losing count of the measures during the extended monotony of the playing. The ease of the part was its danger, and its repetition was its trap.

There was a pause of thoughtful silence among us. My husband, my daughter and I have played in large musical groups and we were all able to painfully remember the consequences of losing count of the measures.

Then I thought about my life. Sometimes it seems that I’m in a portion of the music where there is no musicality, just a single note repeated again and again, day in and day out, no variation of rhythm or tone. In the drudgery and sameness of daily living, I am apt to lose count of the measures.  I lose the consciousness that I’m “playing” and cooperating along with others. My part is not the only part, there is other orchestration involved. Am I faithfully hitting the right notes – again and again? Am I willing to play such a mundane repeating part – to fill out the sound of a greater symphony?