“Sweeping Will Wait,” Ensign, Apr. 1996, 59
It was a warm, sunny day in Colorado. The brisk spring breeze had taken a holiday, and it was a beautiful afternoon in which to get some outside work done. I had tuned the radio to my favorite classical music station to listen to while I cleaned the patio.
Suddenly I heard the first notes of Schumann’s “Traumerei,” or “Dreaming.” The piece is one of my favorites. I stopped sweeping.
My practical self advised: “Go ahead and sweep while you listen. You have a lot to do. Don’t stop now.”
But my romantic self interceded: “Stop and enjoy. How often do you hear ‘Traumerei’? The sweeping will still be there. It will wait.”
Which self to obey? I thought about the music, the sun, the oneness I felt with Schumann. … Then I stretched on the grass and didn’t move until the piece was over. My heart ached as I thought of Robert Schumann and the lovely music he had composed for his beloved wife, Clara, to perform on the piano even as his mind was becoming clouded by madness. How privileged I felt that I could share in the beauty of this poignant music.
I didn’t finish my sweeping that day, but the memory of that wonderful music is still with me. I’m grateful that I took the time to listen and refresh my spirit.—Pat Furber, Arvada, Colorado