Morning Rejection

Mornings. I simply love them. The chirping of the birds, the purity of the day, the clearness of the sky, the warmth of the sun's rays as they just start to peep through the branches. I love the stillness, the dew. The flowers emerging for the day. I love that as people are dragging themselves out of bed, I have already been up for hours. I love the quiet productivity of mornings... before normal people stir.

Today my friend and I decided to fulfill a promise we had made to each other last year... that we would play violin together. Our hearts are both entwined in the fiddle, and have had no one to share it with. We are stuck in the same position: no place to practice but our dorm room... leaving us feeling vulnerable, awkward, and annoying, no matter how many people tell us we are welcome to play.

She came to my room this morning at 8... not too horribly early, but early still. We trekked across campus to a local church where she has often practiced. After exploring rooms in the empty church and asking if we could use any of them, we had to turn back... a big event was planned for today, and the church was not available.

We sighed, rather defeated, and lumbered slowly back across campus. We shared our frustrations in having no place to go... I felt like a nomad... I could think of no place that at this hour would appreciate a chorus of two fiddles.

It started as a joke: I suggested playing in the open air in the large field between my dorm and the science center. The sky was a crisp blue, the air already warm. The sun was shining brightly, and hardly a cloud dared to mar the purity of the morning. We laughed. Then, at the same time we both thought of the nature trails behind the science center. Surely the outdoors would make room for us...

After pausing to roll up my pants (I wasn't dressed for a hike), we walked thoughtfully along the path. It was shrouded in green, a beautiful contrast to the clear, endless blue above. We pointed out the tiny violets that dotted the greenery along the path, and stared with awe and wonder as we found flowers nestled in a twisted, gnarly branch of an old tree. We stooped low to avoid the leaves and branches of a shrub, and came to a clearing. The pond was visible from here, and we heard the happy quacking of ducks and the occasional splash as they landed in the still water. Above us we heard thrashing in the bushes, and saw two deer as they scampered away from us. A woodpecker was already busy on the tree overhead. We were hushed by the beauty and stillness. At the edge of the path, there was a dock. After viewing the glistening dew on a delicate spiderweb, and staring into the murky depths below, we gingerly put our cases down, tuned, and played the first note. It rang out, clear and pure in the morning air. It was followed by another and another, until the melody of Amazing Grace floated above us, bouncing off the branches, the trees, the still water, and the sky.

For an hour we taught each other what we knew, shared our music and our songs. Our fiddles played in harmony, and our hearts were glad.

By the end of our time together, I had decided that I was very, very glad for the lack of room anywhere else. I was glad that nature is always willing to listen. While the initial "no" was frustrating and discouraging, the "no" prompted us to seek another way. And it was through this other way that we were most encouraged, most blessed, and most filled with joy.

Rejection stings, but joy and beauty can still be found for those who search.

All the Time

I like to mull over things... chew on them, think about them, reflect on them. I love quotes that are intensely thought-provoking, that force me to face issues head on.

Yesterday's:

"we're always worshiping. all the time."

At first thought, I thought nothing of it... had no issues with it, didn't think it would make my "things to mull about" list in my head.

However, the second and third thoughts... and beyond... were very different.

Worship? What is it? What does it mean? We may "worship" our favorite athlete, musician, politician. We may "worship" entertainment, education, popularity, the mind. But what does it mean?

Ultimately, worship is bestowed upon a master. It is, as someone in my class put it, "bowing to a master." Worship is admiration. Enjoyment. Praise. It can be done in many different ways. And... it doesn't just have to be about God.

But in some ways, it is about God. Or god. Because worship is what we give to our God. Or god.

And even if we aren't worshiping the God of the Bible, we are worshiping a god. We're always worshiping. All the time. The real question is.... who. Who are we worshiping?

I wish I could say that 100% of the time I worship my Savior. That's not true. Often I seem to worship everything but Him: school work, my own mind/abilities, people/relationships that I desire, friends, MYSELF.

Throughout the day, I have been pausing to ask myself... who am I worshiping right now? Even now... I pause to question. Am I okay with who I am choosing to worship? Am I even intentionally choosing? Or am I just letting life whip me back and forth... allowing me to worship whatever "feels right" at the moment?

If I'm content with Who I am worshiping, then I pause to consider why I find the need to worship Him.

If I'm not content with who I am worshiping, then I pause to consider why I am worshiping this unworthy thing. I must stop and readjust and alter where I put my worship. My enjoyment. My time. My praise.

Here's a question: Are you content worshiping what you're worshiping?

Keeping My Mouth Shut

I like to talk.

Most people who first meet me find that to be a ridiculous assertion, since I am shy and prefer to let others carry the conversation. But once I feel comfortable, I talk. Lots.

I've spent most of my life talking. Sharing my thoughts. My experiences. My "insight." I like to tell my stories. To make people laugh. I always have thoughts to share in class... even when I've already volunteered one hundred times. I have no qualms about sharing.

Perhaps the greatest restriction I feel is when I'm with someone who also loves to talk. I feel like I must let them talk, but at the same time... I'm perpetually plotting how to insert my own thoughts. The more I sit in expectant silence trying to find the perfect moment to jump in, the more tense I feel. Until after a while I give up altogether... and find myself just getting annoyed with the other person, rather than truly listening to what they have to say. 

And yet, there is great wisdom in silence... in being so wrapped up in listening to others that I cannot talk because I have forgotten what I was going to say. In listening (not just hearing) other people's stories. To sit with them in silence when they are hurting... rather than being quick to offer my verbal "band-aids" that might only temporarily fix (or just cover up) their problems.

I am learning to listen, not just hear. And it's amazing how much I've been missing. In my eagerness to insert my thoughts, perceptions, and "wisdom," I often ignore the one who really needs to be heard, understood.

I am learning to ask questions. Not just ramble about myself. I am learning to try to dig deeper into why people say what they do. I am convinced every person has a reason for sharing what they choose to share... whether it is the inmost truth, or the shallow cover-up for what's beneath it. This doesn't mean I try to analyze every spoken word... no. But at least to understand people a little better. Rather than thinking about how to change the subject back to myself, or my familiar stomping grounds I have been trying to find questions to ask people about themselves. It's a challenge. A discipline. But I'm trying :)