The Chord that ties it all together

Pretty much my whole life I have considered myself to be a musician. While certainly not Julliard-bound, I have worked long and hard at my two instruments, violin and piano.

Music lessons were a normal weekly routine since I was eight, and practicing was expected: a half hour on each instrument per day.

By high school, music was all-consuming. Competitive sports were not an option primarily because of the huge time commitment of music (and my lack of coordination...). Chamber music rehearsals beginning at 7 am, orchestra, independent study music, staying at school until sometimes 7 pm, fiddling the evening away.

My freshman year of college I was at my peak. I practiced close to two hours a day on the violin, and intended on minoring in music. I was playing in the Symphony of the Lakes, taking violin lessons, and beginning to understand the finer craft of violin. But I missed fiddling. I missed the friendships and the joy of performing pieces written in my memory, rather than etched on a page.

Halfway through the year, I found out Grace's music program was shutting down. In a way I was relieved; I was getting burnt out, and I was tired of continuing my two hours-a-day practice. I wanted to be with people, not stuck in a practice room. I knew I was no virtuoso, and so I decided to stop taking lessons, and to stop practicing.

For three years I took a hiatus from violin. I still occasionally played. But instead of two hours a day it was more like two hours a week (orchestra rehearsal). And that quickly dropped to two hours a month. If that.

Occasionally I would hear some amazing music, and everything in me would desire to be at that level again. But when I would unlatch my violin from its prison, it no longer sang. It sounded dull, squeaky, and annoying. So I practiced even less.

But the power of music would not allow me to keep away forever.

This year I was hired into a school that loves music. A school that desires to build that musicality in students from a young age. To challenge students through the arts, and to expose them to the world of music.

My passion for education, especially music education has exploded as I see the power it has in the lives of these kids I teach.

I got to host a fiddle band at my school... a fiddle band made up of the "kids" I fiddled with in high school. The students at my school were enthralled. And my love for music, the fiddle, and my desire for all kids to experience music in depth simply swelled. This was the kick-off for the start of my own fiddle club where beginning fiddlers can begin to experiment with this genre of music, and hopefully fall in love with it.

But today, my heart is full because a struggling little fourth grade boy held his half size violin high. He mastered a correct bow hold. He grinned and said, "violin is the best part of school." He hates reading. He hates math. He hates writing. And he won't behave. But music ties it all together. And he will do all of those for the sake of the music. Music is his behavior plan.

Trust

"Do you trust Me?" You ask.

You ask in the quiet, You ask aloud.

Amidst the raging storm You ask, and in the calm afterwards.

"Yes." I say.

Then take it back. Forever I am taking it back.

But You continue to ask.

"I've failed too much. You can't still be here. You can't still trust me?" I say in reply.

"But don't you get it? It's not about whether I trust you. It's Do you trust Me?"

"Even though I've failed You hundreds of times, even though I've hurt you even more... You still ask?"

My whole life. My whole existence has proved I don't. Not because You've failed me. But because it is impossible that You're still here... extending grace, loving more, asking me to trust again.

"Who are you, Lord?"

I am the One you can ALWAYS trust. From Alpha to Omega, I am here. Never will I leave you or forsake you. Never can you displease me enough. Never can you reject me enough. You are my beloved and you are Mine.

In search of Home

Christmas break was a delicious time spent at Home. Michigan-Home where I grew up and lived out most of my life. I love being in that cozy house, the padded floors, the steep stairs. I love being with my family... always playing games, eating tons of Hungarian sweets, and having meaningful, deep conversations.

But over and over I had to guard myself from calling Warsaw "home." Whenever my tongue would slip, there was an awkward silence, a glance around the room. Then everyone would kind of chime in... "you mean... Indiana..." By the end, it kind of became a joke, and even my mom accidentally called Warsaw "home."

I know I've had a fair number of posts about this concept of Home, but it's probably because it is one that is frequently on my mind. I frequently refer to different places as Home, and happen to irritate or hurt people who don't see it the same way.

In some ways, it's like introducing one best friend to another best friend. They both share my heart equally, but they play very different roles (which begs the question.... do I really have a best friend? So we move on.) So it is with Home.

I have experienced much frustration at trying to define these things. I've always thought that one day when I have my own home and my own family, that's when home will be Home. But let's face it. It won't be. It will carry the name. But Michigan-Home will still be part of my heart. So will Hungary-Home, Indiana-Home, Switzerland-Home and all other Homes in between.

Today I happened across a verse that talked about God blessing and protecting the sojourner (Ps. 146:9). Above it, I had scrawled a cross reference to Hebrews 11:13-16. So I flipped forward searching eagerly for more about these wanderers. This comes in the middle of what we call "The Hall of Faith" where the author of Hebrews lists off heroes of the Bible and how their faith saved them... not because they never messed up, but because their hearts believed the Lord and His promises, and Grace was given to them.

These words spoke truth to my wander-filled heart: "These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.... they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city."

I love this.

Because these people, these Heroes: Abel, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob... they didn't cling too tightly to their homes. In fact, when God told them to GO, they did... without hesitation. They didn't even know WHERE they were going! They just went. And God didn't just give them a place to go, He gave them an eternal home.

Because they were content to wander, to be ready to move when God told them to move, because they desired a heavenly country more than storing up places on earth, the Lord, God of the Universe, wasn't ashamed to be their God. Wow.

I haven't moved nearly as much as some people. But my heart attaches to homes. My heart wants a Home. While I like the idea of short-term wanderings and getting lost, my heart longs for permanence.

How good it is to know that there is permanence, even for the wanderer, if He wanders for the Lord!