Gratitude

Sometimes---there's a peace that finds you when you aren't even looking for it.  And you know it doesn't come from you----and you just know that someone's praying for you.  I'm thankful today for people who pray----and thankful to a God who answers those prayers.

Mortar the bricks

Build up the fences

Taller and stronger

Better defenses…

Curl up behind

The walls you have made

Hide and be hidden

Shrink into the shade.

Bury the weakness

Cold and hard

The work leaves me weary

And always on guard.

Heaviness pulls 

And twists what is true

Time tangles like string

Old fears come unglued.

Words become sharper

I close all the doors

From inside to out

Cacophony roars.

“Quiet” I tell it

It screams all the more

It tugs at my sleeves

It won’t be ignored.

The deeper I hide it

The louder it yells

I close my eyes but my ears

Feel the swell.

Doors swing open

Walls come down

Careless, unkind,

What’s been chained comes unbound.

Hurtful, malicious

What lived inside me

Is out and it’s visible

Who can see?

Questions arise

What’s right and what matters?

Actions, reactions

The mind shifts and scatters

Concedes there is nothing

That I can change

Only reorganize

Rename, rearrange.  

And others are running

From what I untethered

A storm off its leash

The worst kind of weather.

Frantically chasing

What I can’t collect

Or even remember

But only suspect.

Yet something is happening

I can’t quite see

Some kindness forgives

Picks up behind me.

The same people hurt

By what lived inside me

Strangely, they gather my mess

My debris.

Fear shoves me to darkness

But friends reflect light

Shame mutes my entreaties

But friends’ prayers unite.

My walls are all gone

My fences are torn

Still—I can wonder

Is that cause to mourn?

A heart that is guarded

By an ungiving wall

Is just atrophied muscle

---No real heart at all.

I can’t mend my fences

They’re beyond repair

But maybe it’s meant

That they shouldn’t be there.

Thoughts for the New Year

In 2018, my daily prayer is going to be:  "Show me how to be a godly woman.  Give me the strength to obey you, to serve you, to serve my family, to serve others."  I struggle with staying in the Bible the way that I should---I read small bits at a time.  Sometimes I go long stretches without reading it at all other than at church on Sunday morning.   I tend to do better with some kind of devotional that only gives me small chunks of the Bible with a lot of explanation tacked on.  I think there's a place for that---and sometimes I just need a lot of explanation to really understand what I'm reading----but as time goes on I've become more convicted that I need to devote more time to actually reading and praying through the Bible.   I want God's voice to be the first one I hear in the morning and the last before I go to sleep at night.  And I want to learn how to be obedient to Him in all things.

God has been good to me.  Through every doubt, through every hardship,  through infertility, through the challenges of adoption, general parenthood, teaching---- through joy, through loss---God has shown up.  God has been there.  In personal, loving, ways that display His kindness and His goodness.

Psalm 16:2  I say to the LORD, “You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.”

I have read this in the Bible---but I also know this to be true from my own experiences.  I went through a period in my life when I ran as far as I could from God.  I was actively trying to mold Him into something I could easily accept---and if I was not able to do that---if He couldn't be what I thought He should be----then I really didn't want anything to do with Him.  And He showed up.  And showed me kindness, grace.  When you hit a place in your mind where there is obviously nothing good in you---where every thought seems to be resentful and hateful towards yourself and even towards others---and then something Good touches you, stands by your bedside and holds your hand and calls you Beloved--you know that Goodness didn't come from inside you---it came from something outside of you.  

James 1:17 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

And you realize that the God who made the universe has given everything He could ever give---sacrificed and suffered on your behalf-- in order to reconcile with you--a sinner--a person in active rebellion from His love.  There is no greater love story. There is no greater rest.  There is no greater peace.  There is nothing more humbling.  There is nothing more beautiful. And there is no true happiness outside of this knowledge and acceptance of the gift extended to you. 

Throughout the year of 2017---I began to be convicted about the way that I was using food as a way to make myself feel better--and even the way I was using my extra weight as a kind of  strange protection.  I would eat too much or sit too long---and God would whisper---you don't really have to do this.  I'm right here.  You can't fill the void you're trying to fill with anything but Me anyhow...I would sit under preaching at church about idols---about turning to things other than God for things that only God can give. I watched my health decline.  I took more medicine to control blood pressure and type 2 diabetes.  I listened to the doctors warn me that my extra weight--which I had learned to lean more and more on for protection---was killing me.  I knew I needed to change.  But I've tried to change before---I have changed before---superficially--- with short term weight loss.   I would always turn back to food eventually.  And turn back to the weight.  I was afraid to try. For a long time, I was afraid to even pray for God to help me turn away from this sin---because I feared that it was so much a part of me---that I could never really let it go.  

Less scary than actually starting the process of loosening the control of food/inactivity on my life---was praying about it.  And sometime in 2017---I did start praying.  At first, just during the church services when I would feel convicted about the idols I was maintaining in spite of the love God had shown me.  Then I started walking sometimes at night.  I'd bring my Kindle with me, walk slowly, and read my Bible.  And pray.  And ask God to help turn me away from excess---and turn me more towards Him.  I would read my Bible and the explanations that went with it---and there were times I was just struck with the wonder--- that I have been set free--I don't have to be enslaved to food or greed or anything else.  I'm free --I'm accepted completely because of the love and sacrifice of  my savior--- Christ Jesus, I'm loved, completely.  I'm no less loved because I'm overweight----but I don't have to be overweight---and I can change.  I can break free from this---not of my own strength---but through the strength of the God who loves me.  I listened to a sermon once by Tim Keller---where he talked about these moments where sometimes you feel as though God has just lifted you up on His shoulders.  He compared it to the feeling a child has who has been lifted up into his father's arms feels----the child is no more or less loved by his father whether he's in his father's arms or not---but the child feels the father's love more acutely when he is in the father's arms.  We are no more or less loved by God regardless of our feelings---but there were times that it just felt as if I'd been lifted into my heavenly Father's arms.  It was sweet---and it restored my soul in a way I hadn't thought possible.  

So around August---I started the work.  Counting the calories---keeping them below the number allotted in order to lose weight.   Walking 3x a week for 20 minutes....walking every day.....walking further and longer because it became joyful---and because I looked forward to it. I often read my Bible as I walked.  I prayed.  I asked others to pray for me.  Many of my friends and peers encouraged me.  I started running---just a little---just to see if I could.  Began the c25k program----and somehow---against all of my expectations--- that became joyful as well.  Running and asking God to carry me one step further today than I went yesterday felt like a new kind of worship---a new kind of relationship building activity between me and God.  I ran past the Christmas lights in my neighborhood,  I ran under the hawk swooping over my favorite trail, over the imprints of the leaves on my path, and on the bridges over water that sparkled as the sun reflected off of it.  And there was a deep peace in this---one that I cannot adequately describe---one that I am so grateful for.  I started a little strength training a couple days a week because I wanted to be strong enough to run further.   And I started swimming laps at the local gym----because I can't run every day without risking injury----and that too---just pushing slowly across the water---asking for the strength for one more stroke---one more lap---it is a kind of healing---a kind of replenishing.  

The calorie counting, the exercise---it's good and it's helpful---and it had to be done in order for me to change.  I've lost 56 pounds---and my dr dropped one of my blood pressure medicines with plans to drop more.  I am not finished--I need to lose another 40 pounds or so.  But I am not obsessed with the number on the scale--or the size of my pants--or how quickly I can take this weight off.  Not anymore. The important change was the one that came before----the one that came through God reaching out to me----through prayer and dependence, through practicing faith that God really can turn me away from a sin that I have long been enslaved to.

  There is a danger here of turning even exercise or calorie counting into an idol---there is a danger here of falling into the thought pattern:  I did this on my own.  So I write this in part to tell myself---remember.  Remember who gave you this gift.  All good things---come from above.  And this season in my life of feeling good and healthy and loved----it's a blessing.  And it isn't anything I did---it is something that was given to me.  There will be other seasons---there will be seasons of sickness---or sadness--or loss.  There may be seasons when the weight comes back.  Whatever happens---I'm still loved by God.  I may falter---He will not.  My love for Him may waver---His love for me will be steadfast.  And this is what I want to remember always---and I want to live my life out of the infinite wellspring of His loving kindness.  

So what I'm praying for myself this year is this:  "Teach me to be a Godly woman.  And create in me a spirit of gratitude and service."

Thanks be to God for the blessings He has given me.  And happy new year.  

Homesickness

   Sometimes I look at the pastimes that I enjoy the most---and I wonder why these hobbies are so soothing to me---why do they feed my soul?  Many of the hobbies that I enjoy most are not things that I do particularly well---there's just something inherently satisfying about them.  Playing music--particularly hymns or praise songs--- on the guitar and the ukulele make me feel like finally, my mind is still---and I can think without the frantic pace that always seems to drive me outside of myself throughout a normal day.  When I play a song---when I listen to the words---I feel like myself again---the self that knows it is nothing without Christ---the self that knows that it is planted like a tree near the water----that there is a never-ending spring of joy to drink from---and to be satisfied---to be thankful in Christ alone.  Still---my heart is prone to wander even in these times---and while I am content on one level----somewhere far beyond the level I can most readily identify---I know that I have not yet been made complete---and that the joy I experience in singing songs to glorify God is a shadow of a greater joy---to come....  And when I stand on the brink of that perspective---I find myself profoundly homesick.

When I pick up the needles and knit---connect loop with loop----bringing order out of tangled string ....again---I wonder if this compulsion to try and create beauty out of little knots of a wooden stick is a deeper homesickness---a memory---if you could call it a memory---of a time when we were charged with looking after our home...tending a garden---bringing forth order from the wild growth.  Unfortunately, I've never had the compulsion to tend an actual garden----but I do wonder----does the satisfaction I feel with watching tiny loops on a stick connecting with other loops until something sensible or something beautiful start to emerge---Is that a symptom of a deeper homesickness??

When I spend inordinate amounts of time fiddling with water chemistry on the fish tanks----trying to make everything line up just perfect----so that the fish are happy and healthy---and tame enough to eat from our hands....does it all point to a time when nature was at peace with man-----when all was at peace----and am I trying to reclaim some measure of that peace when I attempt to tame an animal.....when I take satisfaction in the animal's well being......is it all homesickness, I wonder?

There are some mornings when I feel like I am planted in a  deeper Reality than I am normally aware of......The tile feels more vibrantly cold on my bare feet----the coffee tastes richer---and the silence of the sleeping house feels inhabited....inhabited by a Personal God who deigns to not only rescue me out of my outright rebellion and save me from myself---and from hell---but who goes even further---to form a relationship with me---where I am known completely and loved completely simultaneously.   Who is this God who loves us so intimately?  So unconditionally?  Who chases after us when we run from him?  Who binds wandering hearts that would be lost if they really did get away from the One they're trying to escape form......The older I get---the more I can say---God is good.....There is no good apart from Him.....and I think CS Lewis was right when he talked about the profound homesickness we feel at times for a world that is not like this one---the desire to be reunited with our Love---and to be set back in our true Home.....

Voices find me in the night

They allege and they accuse

I hunker down and hide myself

For I have no excuse.

I have failed a million times

And what is seen is but a part

Of all the darkness I have nourished

Down deep within my heart.

I have been a shadow

Shackled in a dusty cell

One foot bound to this world

And the other bound to hell.

And though my feet are bound

God invites me Come

And makes a way--becomes the way

Till I can't help but run...

But I have always been a runner

From everything that's Good

I cannot measure up

To straight edges as I should.

Laws are written on my heart

Etched unmistakably

I know I should be perfect

Yet---I cannot be.

So I bury myself deep

Beneath feigned complacencies

Guard my heart with walls of stone

Till the muscle atrophies....

And still God reaches deep

Beneath the folds of all my sin

"The debt you cannot pay

--I have paid---now child---come in."

There is something green within me

I did not plant it there

For I was only darkness

Swallowing more darkness from everywhere.

But something green is changing

Though its growth is slow and small

It bends, uncurls, and lengthens

It pushes on the wall...

Like a shell surrounds a seedling

In the ground---before it wakes

Until the green becomes too large

And the shell begins to break...

Breaking isn't safe

Being broken--that is pain

And yet the green grows larger

And a strange joy can't be contained.

The darkness still remains

But its home is cramped by all the green

It is outraged at the cracks

Where the shell is straining at the seams....

And I could say I'm lost

In conflicting parts of me

And yet somehow, I know I'm found

And I know who I'm to be

Though there are times I close my eyes

Close my heart and fall to slumber

The weight of joy from deep within

Pushes outward and I crumble.

I have a heart that's broken

A million times it's been made new

But each new fracture leaves a space

For new tendrils to creep through.

There is something green within me

I didn't plant it there

The one who made me placed it

Tended it with care

Something green within me--

That wakes me when ignored

For it knows its home's a garden

And that it shall be restored.  

Testimony

When I was a child, I was taught to believe in Jesus.  I was taught that God loved me so much that He sent His one and only begotten son to die for my sins that I might be reconciled to Him.  I was taught that because I believed in Jesus, when I died I would go to heaven.  I can remember vaguely----believing this so strongly that I wondered why anyone would fear death.  I can remember not fearing death as a child.  Looking back on this time, it's hard for me to say whether I was really a Christian at this time or not........because I don't think I understood fully at this time what Christ had done......or who I really was..... but then----there are times now I wonder whether salvation really is something that happens all at once-----or if it is something that grows gradually over time.... or maybe it is true that salvation is just the beginning----and as one's faith grows---and one's walk with God grows gradually closer---one experiences the salvation that always was---in a new and deeper way.  I don't pretend to understand these things....

As I grew older, I started to question things.  Verses in the Bible like "I am the potter and you are the clay.....does the clay question the potter as to how it is made..."---disturbed me.  I forged friendships with people who were different than me----many people who identified as gay or homosexual----and I loved these friends with my whole heart.  Hearing some people (it's important to note that this attitude did not come from the leadership of any particular church, but just from some people who also identified as Christians) within the church laughingly discuss how anyone who was gay/homosexual would end up in hell----hardened my heart towards church....and even towards Christianity.  I started to pull back.  I remember having a dream where it felt as if I were climbing up a ladder----all night long----climbing strenuously and with much effort---I reached the top and there was God....I asked Him if I could come into heaven----and He said no.  I woke up petrified.

Quietly, I walked away from the church during my college years.  I still professed Christianity----but I had no relationship with God....I only occasionally prayed or read the Bible or went to church----and then only because I had a deeply rooted fear of hell----I wondered about predestination----and often wondered if I were predestined for hell---because I couldn't uproot the questions from my heart.  

I became a music teacher.  I fell in love---got married.  Stu and I went to church together---a very gentle Lutheran church that had a lot of music and ritual----the rituals were soothing to me.  And I began searching for God----I read a lot of books about Christianity---I prayed---asking God to help me come into relationship with Him.  I can specifically remember asking God not to give up on me.  I journaled about the questions I had......I tried as best I could to deal with them... Time passed.  We wanted to have a child......found that we couldn't conceive a biological child.  Went to a lot of doctors---had a lot of tests---took different medicines that made me crazy and drained our financial resources.  I cried in a lot of closets.  And I got angry at God.

At the beginning of one school year---I climbed on top of a chair (which you aren't supposed to do by the way)---to staple music symbols along the strip of cork above my chalkboard.  I lost my balance---and fell down.  Pain.   My friend Karen heard me yell and came to check on me---I remember my ears ringing with the pain....and I felt I couldn't even think over the pain.....I remember Karen driving me around and getting me to the hospital. The first time the Doctor spoke with me, before X-rays and such---I remember him looking at me with a baffled expression on his face (I was crying---because well---pain)  "I suppose you aren't familiar with this kind of pain.....never played sports and sprained an ankle or anything?"  I didn't answer---felt ashamed.  Later, after x rays---I remember the Doctor casually telling me---"Well---it's really bad.  You've broken a your tibia and your fibia----and all the tendons around your ankle have been completely torn up too.  You're going to need surgery."  I could still barely comprehend anything over the pain----I hesitate to say too much about it because I feel certain that there are people who have been through so much worse-----but at the same time, I remember that each minute was an eternity----and that I did not know how to cope with this pain that never lessened.  And still in the back of my mind, I was thinking---Great----this'll really help me get pregnant.


They gave me morphine through an IV.  I was to spend the night at the hospital and have surgery the next morning.  The morphine didn't touch the pain----it was like a raging fire that did not lessen----never diminished---always burned.  We questioned the nurse about why the medicine was not helping.  She told me coldly, "You're a big girl.  All of that weight falling on that little ankle---of course it's going to hurt."  Shame.  Pain continues.  I did not handle it with grace. I screamed and cried---I acted downright ugly.  My mom was with me---at one point she wanted to pray for me.  At this point, I think I could say that my anger at God had reached its climax----I didn't understand Him----even as I had searched---my questions remained without answers, without relief----I was angry that I couldn't get pregnant like anyone else---I was angry that I was in pain----and I saw this injury as one more hurdle I'd have to jump through in order to have a child---and I was angry about that too.  I told my mom---I don't think I can listen to a prayer right now.  Maybe before---I had fooled myself into thinking that really---somewhere deep inside myself---I was in good relationship with God----you know---we were working on it------but this time of stress and what could probably be labeled as a moderate amount of adversity if looked at relatively in comparison to what some people go through-----it drew back the curtain----and showed me that I didn't even want to deal with God.  The night dragged.  I watched the clock----I didn't know time could go so slowly.   I constantly seethed with an unruly anger.  Wee hours of the morning---mom was sleeping---she never left even though I was foul and must have been just awful to be around.  And then without warning---every hair on the back of my neck raised-----there was nothing but the quiet whir of machines...occasional footsteps in the hallway....and the pain that just had a hold of me.  And yet suddenly I was just really scared---not of my injury---but of the something *other* that seemed to be in the room.  I never heard anything audibly---or saw anything---there was no grand sign or anything like that.  But I remember being petrified and knowing that God was there--(I know He's always there, I just think sometimes our awareness is heightened) the conversation that happened after that was no less Real just because it didn't happen out loud----I consider it to be one of the most Real conversations I've ever had.  Please keep in mind that I was empty of anything good----filled only with anger for pretty much everyone----including God---who I did believe in---but had been struggling to believe He was Good.....I can't emphasize enough the fact that there was nothing good in me.....nothing.  I was incapable of high or noble feelings.......I was empty.  And suddenly I'm hearing internally this voice (voice is the wrong word--- but it will suffice) that is both authoritative and compassionate at the same time----telling me---"Stop this.  You're going to be ok.  You are blessed.  Look at your family and how much they love you.  I'm here---and I love you.  What more could you need?"  I can't describe this experience adequately----I can say it was as if someone sat on the bed beside me and held my hand----I can say it was as if someone kindly smoothed my brow....I can say I was both scared to death and simultaneously felt loved completely---from someone who saw me---down to the bottom---all the ugly parts of myself that I try very hard to keep hidden---exposed to this someone----and still...feeling loved beyond measure.  I remember crying silent tears---no longer from the pain---which did not stop-----but from this closeness--this intimacy with a Good God----who deigned to draw near to me even as I did nothing but run away from Him.  This moment.....this made me realize----of course I'm never going to understand this God----what God draws near to someone who's done nothing but run from Him?  What God shows kindness to someone who's done *nothing* to deserve it....His ways are infinitely higher than my own.....and though I believe we are given minds and that we should use them......in the end I don't think every question has to be answered in order to accept the truth that God is Good---and He loves us all the time.  Questions are ok----God can handle our questions---that doesn't necessarily mean He will answer them.....and the journey into looking for answers can lead us to places that are far better than the answers themselves....

I had surgery the next morning----I was still in a lot of pain when they took me to prep me for surgery---and I was still crying.  The nurse was confused by my tears----"Are you scared of the surgery?"---she asked kindly.  "No," I answered honestly.  "I'm just in quite a lot of pain."  She seemed surprised---checked my IV.  "This has infiltrated" she told me matter-of-factly.  She put the IV in the other arm and within moments the pain subsided.  They put a plate and some screws in my ankle----and I spent the day in the hospital----went home that night.

Pain was a near constant companion for months after this.  I had nerve damage---and while the pain meds helped with other kinds of pain----the nerve pain---a creepy crawling fiery kind of feeling---was unfazed by the meds they gave me.  I couldn't sleep.  I found that doing something with my hands distracted me from the nerve pain----which was worse at night it seemed.  I started latch hooking----as I had done when I was a kid.....found that it helped.  Then, my good friend Karen who teaches art at my school--- taught me to knit.  I struggled as I learned---but found that while I was quietly cursing over my yarn and needles---I didn't focus so much on the pain in my ankle and foot....and after a while I stopped struggling----and began enjoying the simple pleasures to be found in clicking needles, and the transformation of tiny loops on a stick into something sensible---at times beautiful....

The ankle healed---I went back to school after an extended time away.....continued infertility treatments----continued mourning when they didn't work....continued crying in closets----but the sadness was no longer a lonely silence....God drew exceptionally close to me in a time of weakness.  I began to learn that Christianity really offered a relationship with God....something both terrifying and unimaginably beautiful.....Sometimes I'd be driving in the car alone----and yet----it was as if Someone was sitting in the seat beside me----laughing with me over absurdities---grieving with me over losses.....comforting me....encouraging me....convicting me.....   These times of intimacy with God were not every day occurrences.....but I held each instance closely to my heart----treasured them....it seemed to be such an impossible thing----a completely unwarranted Gift----a Gift whose worth could never be earned....or even understood in completion.  What value can you assign to a relationship with a perfectly loving, just, holy, humble---God???  What value can you assign to a friendship with such a perfect God while you are completely aware that you yourself are completely imperfect???  Add on top of that the fact that you know you spent a large portion of your time running away from that perfect God.....only to have Him come steadfastly after you....pursue you...fold you into His arms with a never giving up love.....the love you've always craved....the love you've always tried to earn---the love you knew deep down that you would never be able to earn......offered freely.....offered sacrificially.

When we began to follow the call God quietly whispered into our lives towards adoption----we made a book for prospective birth mothers to look through.  After meeting with C---Miriam's biological mother----one of the things C said that drew her to us as prospective adoptive parents for Miriam---was the fact that I knitted---she liked the idea that I would make things for the baby---and she herself enjoyed crochet---and she liked that we had that bridge of commonality between us.....When we finally brought Miriam home---I spent many nights marveling at the fact that in my weakest moments---in the times I had been questioning God the most----even then He'd been weaving together something beautiful out of all the mess.  Connecting the dots into a picture that I couldn't have seen at the time....but a picture of a family---that I am so grateful for now.

As I live in my faith----I realize that this is what God has always done.  Come down to us---when we could never climb up to Him.....it can never be me climbing the ladder of salvation up to God----it always had to be God coming down to me..this is the God who left heaven----a place I can only imagine but can understand is infinitely better than this world---a place where there are no tears....no sadness...no cruelty...where love is perfect and unblemished and unwavering....God leaves this heaven to come down to us---and to dwell in our world---that is continually breaking under the strain of sin.....The God who created the universe becomes a baby boy, born in a stable.  The God who is in all time and in all things.....becomes small---becomes man.....and sacrifices everything for love of us..... for God and sinners reconciled.   God dies for all of us---but death cannot hold Him in the grave because He has no sin......And on Easter we celebrate---He is risen.  He is risen indeed.  Happy Easter.

The Hardest Thing About Teaching Music

The hardest thing about teaching music---is that if you are constructing a suitably challenging piece of music---which might include interesting vocal contours, orchestrations that both complement and contrast with the rhythms/melodies of the basic song itself, and movement that accurately reflects the mood of the piece----the students you are teaching cannot imagine this piece of music in its completed form.  And since teaching often means breaking down complex ideas/motives into their most basic components---you can't begin by teaching them everything at once---you have to give the piece to them in parts.  One week--learn just the melody---or perhaps only part of the melody if it is particularly challenging.  One week---learn the orchestration---in bits and pieces---one ostinati at a time.  Be sure a part can be performed in isolation, before attempting to layer in the next part---and while each subsequent part might be performed easily in isolation---when performed together--simultaneously---one finds the challenge greatly magnified.  And still another week---work on creating movement to reflect the music. Ask the students how should it reflect the music??  Should it reflect its tempo---so that fast movements accompany a briskly paced tune---and slower, more lethargic movements accompany a more quiet, wandering tune?  Should the movement reflect the contour of the melody----Using higher space when the melody is high---and lower space the melody is low?  Should the movement capture both these aspects at the same time---or focus on some other intrinsic part of the music entirely.  Should the movement try to capture some other--harder to name---elusive spirit of the music---some piece of the music that cannot quite be analyzed---that is more a feeling than a word??  And how---how can we really reflect what we can barely describe in words---or is it because we can't describe it in words---that we must do so in some other fashion.....The hardest part about teaching music is that what we are working towards in the class is so much more than the sum of its parts.   And all of the above processes described briefly above----they are hard work---rewarding, yes---but the reward is one of delayed gratification.  You can't really enjoy the fruits of your labor---until the labor is complete---when you spend a half hour meticulously refining repetitive rhythms on your instruments---being sure that all performers perform at the same tempo---with ears inclined towards balance---and a million other things to make everything line up just so---so that you can have a rewarding performance....it's hard work---and students can't always imagine towards what.....That comes later---when all is put together----and even then---the end product really depends on the efforts and skill of the class who have been working on it.  A conscientious class who has been steadfast and persevered through difficulties--that has used the weeks of practice to refine their talents and to strengthen their weaknesses----that has worked in good faith---even though they couldn't imagine the end product---if they work carefully on the building blocks---they can create something that is nothing short of magical.  And once they do---and if they feel that magic that happens----they are more likely to do more good work---to create more beautiful moments that we can enjoy together, as a class---in this brief little time we have with them in our little grey classroom that finds its colors in the music that fills it....  Of course, if there is a class who can't get past the idea of---this is all I see this week---so this is all there must be.  A rhythm or two performed in isolation from the entirety of the piece---is no magical thing.  And yet--they must be performed in isolation before they can be performed in the context of the entire piece if students are to have any hope of performing them accurately---in their most rewarding fashion.  And a class without faith that there is something beautiful to be made out of all of these rather insignificant looking building blocks strewn haphazardly about---a class like that can be difficult because their performance will not hold the same magic---and they will feel that their efforts (even if they were feeble efforts) were in vain.  And it will be more difficult to convince them to work harder the next time for something more substantial and meaningful.  Because until they step out on faith---that the music will be more than the sum of its parts----they won't be able to experience anything but the parts---they'll never be able to put them together and enjoy the true sum---the heart of the piece.  And that's my challenge---finding ways to build the faith....to encourage students to imagine what a song will feel like when all of its components weave in and out of each other.....to imagine the magic.....to realize that the work is worth it...

As I'm reflecting on these things---it makes me hope that I can serve God as I'm teaching---even in a public school setting.  I hope that, through His grace, I can teach just a little about faith.  Because being a person who has faith----who can believe in something one can't understand right away----well that's something we all need.  To accept a Good God in a world of uncertainty, violence, and fear---we need faith.  To work hard quietly---when things aren't going well---and seem to have no hope of going well---to not throw one's hands up and say--Why bother??---we need faith.  To accomplish anything at all that lies outside the realm of the familiar and routine---we need faith.

Remember the man in the Bible who said:  "Lord I believe---but help my unbelief"  Sometimes I feel overly optimistic for hoping that I can "teach" faith---because on so many occasions in my own life---faith has been something given to me when I wasn't looking for it---even when I was foolish enough to be running away from it.  Faith itself---was not something I could manufacture for myself---God had to step in and "help my unbelief."  And surely if I cannot manufacture it for myself---I cannot manufacture it for anyone else.

Still---I like to think that faith itself---it's a part of the Real world----not the surface one that the darkness would like us to remain tangled in.  And though I can do nothing on my own---I am not on my own---and all I can hope is to somehow reflect back a tiny bit of the light that God has shown me---I know that's what God hopes for me anyways (perhaps he would prefer it not to be "tiny"--but the idea is the same) And so maybe He lovingly provides me an opportunity to do that---in a small way.  And just as I have to teach in a logical sequence from simple to complex---one piece at a time---then glue them deftly together----maybe faith can be taught-- or given if you prefer---in a similar fashion.  Maybe having the chance to teach students to be people who can believe in more than what they can see----maybe that plants the seed for them to be people who can accept a Good God who looks to redeem a world that is anything but Good.

Perhaps it's ridiculous to look for the lines God connects throughout our lives----I'm certain they are too numerous to count---too subtle to even see at times---and too beautiful to comprehend at this time.  Still---maybe that's part of growing the faith---thinking about ways that a Good God can work Good from me---even though at many times---I am anything but Good.  And the only good thing in me---is Him.