Hey there. I suppose the scattered few of you who still check this blog every once in a while may have been wondering where I've been. Well, put frankly, I fell again into the trap of thinking, "Oh, I really need to get my act together before I make another post."
Behold the result. Months gone by with no post. I really need to accept the reality that if I wait for my life to be great before I post, then I am never going to post.
Undoubtedly, these last several weeks have been rather difficult for me, and for lots of reasons. For one thing, I have a new job! I'm working for a family that goes to our church. I do housework, basically. They have five--that's right, five--little boys, all under the age of seven. So, you know, it amounts to running loads of laundry, ironing, cleaning their kitchen, fixing lunch, etc. All the things that a mom does every single day for no pay at all. It's a good job for me now, and I'm so thankful for it, because this job is paying for me to go on a short-term missions trip to China this June! But I'm not going to lie--it is demanding. I come home in the middle of the afternoon feeling exhausted or sometimes completely drained. I just keep hoping that the experience of all this will help me one day when, Lord willing, I have a home of my own.
That's one of the main reasons I've been kind of missing in action. The other big one is something that's been going on at our church. As you know, I'm active in my church's music ministry. And our music minister is moving away. Next week.
His announcement was a few weeks ago, and it was completely out of the blue. I hold no ill-will of any kind towards him or his family; this is the right thing for them at this time. But I am going to miss them so very much.
Today was the first time that it really sank in, and this is their last Sunday with us. Easter Sunday.
I haven't known them for very long, but in the last few months, I have come to love this whole precious family. Mr. E is a gifted conductor, and I have heard the quality of sound he was able to bring out of our choir. His eager smile when he conducted was contagious, and he knew just how to communicate what our voices needed to do. Mrs. K is always so refreshing to be around. She has this bracing sense about her that had a very healthy affect on me. Being around her always woke me up when I found I'd fallen into a self-pitying state of mind. Just talking with her made me want to do something, and it made me feel I was capable to do the next thing.
Another thing I loved about them was how open they were to everyone. Mr. E and Mrs. K were always wanting input, always inviting others to share their thoughts, always willing to listen. Their home was always open. They shared themselves and their two sons with anyone and everyone. I felt so at home in their living room, and I was beginning to understand the delight of knowing you could actually drop in anytime. I've never actually experienced that before.
Mrs. K really has a heart for single ladies, which is what I am at this stage of my life. She treated me like an adult from the very beginning, and she liked to organize activities for the single girls in the church. That was so precious to me. As a single, I struggle sometimes with where I fit into this church. Being around her made it clearer, even easier.
And I saw a similar kind of openness in the way Mr. E led the worship ministry. He was so gracious to everyone. He listened attentively to what anyone had to say, and he welcomed interaction. I'm not trying to imply that I've never seen that in any of our pastors before; on the contrary I have, and often. But I have to say that Mr. E and Mrs. K are especially gifted in that area.
Like I said, it really hit me today that they are leaving, and I don't know when I'll see them again.
Recently I read that being in your twenties has a lot of this. Experiencing friends going different ways, and life--actual life--starts crowding into all of your time.
I am not the same anymore. I was forced into that ugly realization this Friday when I found out I had the time wrong for when I needed to be at church to rehearse. I was horribly rushed to get there, and I felt scatterbrained and mad at myself up until it was time to sing.
As I drove there, (absolutely NOT speeding, of course. *Ahem.*) I kept thinking, "What is wrong with me? I used to know every rehearsal time off the top of my head. I used to memorize every song I sang in the choir. When my parents forgot what anthem we were going to sing next, they asked me and I was always correct. I always just knew. What has happened to me over these years?"
Then it occurred to me. "Oh. But...that was back when I was in ninth grade. I was fourteen and homeschooled. I maybe had a one-day-a-week job, and I did play in another orchestra, but Mother always drove me those places. Church was my special sphere, and I could invest lots of time and thought and practice into choir and orchestra. But today, I'm twenty-two. I've been working for seven hours today, and I had errands to run in my own car. I drive myself and occasionally other people places. I have a lot more on my plate than I ever did in high school. More responsibility. More spheres that I inhabit. It's actually quite natural that I can't remember everything as well. I have a lot more to think about. I am not the same person I was then."
It was a weird realization. Relieving in one way, disconcerting in another.
But boy, ain't it the truth.
Today happens to be the twentieth of April, and that's a special anniversary to me. It was the day that our team from the choir and orchestra left for our England tour in 2007. Ten days of touring by day and concerts by night---and my first experience of England with people that I love. Including our previous music minister and his wife.
I thought of them a lot today. So many things in the service reminded me of them. Next week we're singing "Lord of Life," a special resurrection hymn set to Holst's tune from "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity." That has a special significance to me. So did the songs that were sung today, "Mercy Refused," followed directly by, "Easter Song."
I think about their family a lot, but today I missed them so much that my heart ached.
One of the hardest things in this life is saying goodbye to friends. It happens all the time, and for a myriad of reasons. Often they're not gone for the rest of your life, but the uncertainty is hard. And every time it happens, I find myself wondering what even worse is still in store. It makes me wonder who I'll be saying goodbye to next. And when I become friends with someone--anyone--it wrings my heart to say goodbye.
This morning, in fact, I practiced in the empty choir room. When I finished practicing the anthems we were singing that morning, I began to play by ear a melody that was set to an old John Newton hymn:
"For mercies, countless as the sands
Which daily I receive
From Jesus, my Redeemer's hands,
My soul, what can you give?
Alas! From such a heart as mine
What can I bring Him forth?
My best is stained and dyed with sin,
My all is nothing worth.
Yet this acknowledgement I'll make,
For all He has bestowed,
Salvation's sacred cup I'll take
And call upon my God.
The best returns from one like me,
So wretched and so poor,
Is from His gifts to take a plea,
And ask Him still for more.
I cannot serve Him as I ought,
No works have I to boast,
And yet would I glory in the thought,
Of all God's children, I'll owe Him the most."
As my fingers found the notes on the strings, some of the emotions--and memories--and thoughts found their way into them. I'm still not sure if the people in the youth room, which is directly above the choir room, could hear my practicing, but I decided I didn't care.
Much of my life feels like practicing in the empty choir room. I don't really know if anyone's listening, and conflicted parts of me want to be heard and don't want to be heard. I know God listens though. And I know that nothing is in vain if played--or practiced--or done--for Him. I just keep hoping He's listening, and that maybe--maybe He will find delight in it...even though I cannot serve Him as I ought to.
Hey, I don't really know who reads this blog. The world has plenty of other blogs written about the angst of yet another young adult struggling in life. But if you do read this blog, feel free to leave comments. I really would like to hear from any of you. I make myself quite vulnerable on this little blog, and I know it's obscure and not exactly great-looking or cool, or anything. I get it. But if you do, feel free to comment, I guess. And if you do read it, don't forget to check on it every once in a while. I'm not consistent, obviously, but I do really like blogging. Sooner or later I will come back to it!
Wow, congratulations for making it this far! I'll post again soon.
~Cadenza
Behold the result. Months gone by with no post. I really need to accept the reality that if I wait for my life to be great before I post, then I am never going to post.
Undoubtedly, these last several weeks have been rather difficult for me, and for lots of reasons. For one thing, I have a new job! I'm working for a family that goes to our church. I do housework, basically. They have five--that's right, five--little boys, all under the age of seven. So, you know, it amounts to running loads of laundry, ironing, cleaning their kitchen, fixing lunch, etc. All the things that a mom does every single day for no pay at all. It's a good job for me now, and I'm so thankful for it, because this job is paying for me to go on a short-term missions trip to China this June! But I'm not going to lie--it is demanding. I come home in the middle of the afternoon feeling exhausted or sometimes completely drained. I just keep hoping that the experience of all this will help me one day when, Lord willing, I have a home of my own.
That's one of the main reasons I've been kind of missing in action. The other big one is something that's been going on at our church. As you know, I'm active in my church's music ministry. And our music minister is moving away. Next week.
His announcement was a few weeks ago, and it was completely out of the blue. I hold no ill-will of any kind towards him or his family; this is the right thing for them at this time. But I am going to miss them so very much.
Today was the first time that it really sank in, and this is their last Sunday with us. Easter Sunday.
I haven't known them for very long, but in the last few months, I have come to love this whole precious family. Mr. E is a gifted conductor, and I have heard the quality of sound he was able to bring out of our choir. His eager smile when he conducted was contagious, and he knew just how to communicate what our voices needed to do. Mrs. K is always so refreshing to be around. She has this bracing sense about her that had a very healthy affect on me. Being around her always woke me up when I found I'd fallen into a self-pitying state of mind. Just talking with her made me want to do something, and it made me feel I was capable to do the next thing.
Another thing I loved about them was how open they were to everyone. Mr. E and Mrs. K were always wanting input, always inviting others to share their thoughts, always willing to listen. Their home was always open. They shared themselves and their two sons with anyone and everyone. I felt so at home in their living room, and I was beginning to understand the delight of knowing you could actually drop in anytime. I've never actually experienced that before.
Mrs. K really has a heart for single ladies, which is what I am at this stage of my life. She treated me like an adult from the very beginning, and she liked to organize activities for the single girls in the church. That was so precious to me. As a single, I struggle sometimes with where I fit into this church. Being around her made it clearer, even easier.
And I saw a similar kind of openness in the way Mr. E led the worship ministry. He was so gracious to everyone. He listened attentively to what anyone had to say, and he welcomed interaction. I'm not trying to imply that I've never seen that in any of our pastors before; on the contrary I have, and often. But I have to say that Mr. E and Mrs. K are especially gifted in that area.
Like I said, it really hit me today that they are leaving, and I don't know when I'll see them again.
Recently I read that being in your twenties has a lot of this. Experiencing friends going different ways, and life--actual life--starts crowding into all of your time.
I am not the same anymore. I was forced into that ugly realization this Friday when I found out I had the time wrong for when I needed to be at church to rehearse. I was horribly rushed to get there, and I felt scatterbrained and mad at myself up until it was time to sing.
As I drove there, (absolutely NOT speeding, of course. *Ahem.*) I kept thinking, "What is wrong with me? I used to know every rehearsal time off the top of my head. I used to memorize every song I sang in the choir. When my parents forgot what anthem we were going to sing next, they asked me and I was always correct. I always just knew. What has happened to me over these years?"
Then it occurred to me. "Oh. But...that was back when I was in ninth grade. I was fourteen and homeschooled. I maybe had a one-day-a-week job, and I did play in another orchestra, but Mother always drove me those places. Church was my special sphere, and I could invest lots of time and thought and practice into choir and orchestra. But today, I'm twenty-two. I've been working for seven hours today, and I had errands to run in my own car. I drive myself and occasionally other people places. I have a lot more on my plate than I ever did in high school. More responsibility. More spheres that I inhabit. It's actually quite natural that I can't remember everything as well. I have a lot more to think about. I am not the same person I was then."
It was a weird realization. Relieving in one way, disconcerting in another.
But boy, ain't it the truth.
Today happens to be the twentieth of April, and that's a special anniversary to me. It was the day that our team from the choir and orchestra left for our England tour in 2007. Ten days of touring by day and concerts by night---and my first experience of England with people that I love. Including our previous music minister and his wife.
I thought of them a lot today. So many things in the service reminded me of them. Next week we're singing "Lord of Life," a special resurrection hymn set to Holst's tune from "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity." That has a special significance to me. So did the songs that were sung today, "Mercy Refused," followed directly by, "Easter Song."
I think about their family a lot, but today I missed them so much that my heart ached.
One of the hardest things in this life is saying goodbye to friends. It happens all the time, and for a myriad of reasons. Often they're not gone for the rest of your life, but the uncertainty is hard. And every time it happens, I find myself wondering what even worse is still in store. It makes me wonder who I'll be saying goodbye to next. And when I become friends with someone--anyone--it wrings my heart to say goodbye.
This morning, in fact, I practiced in the empty choir room. When I finished practicing the anthems we were singing that morning, I began to play by ear a melody that was set to an old John Newton hymn:
"For mercies, countless as the sands
Which daily I receive
From Jesus, my Redeemer's hands,
My soul, what can you give?
Alas! From such a heart as mine
What can I bring Him forth?
My best is stained and dyed with sin,
My all is nothing worth.
Yet this acknowledgement I'll make,
For all He has bestowed,
Salvation's sacred cup I'll take
And call upon my God.
The best returns from one like me,
So wretched and so poor,
Is from His gifts to take a plea,
And ask Him still for more.
I cannot serve Him as I ought,
No works have I to boast,
And yet would I glory in the thought,
Of all God's children, I'll owe Him the most."
As my fingers found the notes on the strings, some of the emotions--and memories--and thoughts found their way into them. I'm still not sure if the people in the youth room, which is directly above the choir room, could hear my practicing, but I decided I didn't care.
Much of my life feels like practicing in the empty choir room. I don't really know if anyone's listening, and conflicted parts of me want to be heard and don't want to be heard. I know God listens though. And I know that nothing is in vain if played--or practiced--or done--for Him. I just keep hoping He's listening, and that maybe--maybe He will find delight in it...even though I cannot serve Him as I ought to.
Hey, I don't really know who reads this blog. The world has plenty of other blogs written about the angst of yet another young adult struggling in life. But if you do read this blog, feel free to leave comments. I really would like to hear from any of you. I make myself quite vulnerable on this little blog, and I know it's obscure and not exactly great-looking or cool, or anything. I get it. But if you do, feel free to comment, I guess. And if you do read it, don't forget to check on it every once in a while. I'm not consistent, obviously, but I do really like blogging. Sooner or later I will come back to it!
Wow, congratulations for making it this far! I'll post again soon.
~Cadenza
