Interlude

The new glasses are ready. A trip to Costco on a Saturday afternoon doesn't seem like a lot of fun, but we need those glasses. Entering, our eyes scan the mammoth warehouse stacked floor to ceiling with bargains too good to pass up. Saturday -- the best day of the week to sample crab cocktail on sesame crackers, microwave pizza, an exotic new dessert. We don't need a tent and we've just stocked up on light bulbs, so we move to the optical department, take a number, and watch the crowds as we wait. Flatbed carts loaded with appliances, lawn furniture and slabs of meat roll past us toward the front door. Tired children whine and a few young adults discuss their evening plans. A family pushing two large carts jockeys into a checkout line. "We just came in for diapers," the mom sheepishly confesses to the clerk.

And then we hear it. Slowly it penetrates our consciousness and we are aware of music -- not twangy country western or syrupy love songs piped through the store, but gentle, quiet music. We stop watching people and begin to listen. "Do you hear it?" "I think so. Where is it coming from?"

We turn. Behind us, under the wall-mounted tires, is a display of grand pianos. No one is playing them; still, we hear music. Moving closer to investigate, we see the keys of a player piano moving up and down. The chaos of Costco fades as we listen to the song programmed into this piano:

In this very room,

there's quite enough love for all of us,

and in this very room,

there's quite enough joy for all of us.

And there's quite enough hope,

and quite enough power

to chase away any gloom.

For Jesus, Lord Jesus,

is in this very room.

In this Very Room by Ron Harris. If you are interested in knowing the story behind the song, check out Ron Harris's website here.