The other day I heard a song on the radio and my old dream of playing the guitar surfaced. Senior year of high school, you could catch me rocking an air guitar in just about any public place. I even own an instrument, but who has time for new hobbies?
Recently I accompanied a high school girl I know at her cello competition. Once upon a time, orchestra [I played the cello] was one of my favorite things to be involved in. Once upon a more recent time, I entertained thoughts of graduate school in accompaniment work. I know how my skills have atrophied.
A few weeks ago, I glanced down at the cross on my ankle and thought, "I would totally get another tattoo," knowing full well that when I got the first one (for my 25th birthday), I swore up and down that it would be my only one. Not two days later, all relaxed in our pedicure chairs, my mom randomly remarks, "I think you should get another tattoo." I don't think we put a line in the budget for that . . .
Just last night, Isaac and I got to talking about my life the summer before we met: single, living on my own in a 1-bedroom apartment, teaching 50 piano students a week. I was making more than enough money to make ends meet, I wasn't responsible for anyone except me and my little dog Jasper, I had a job I loved, I was losing weight for no apparent reason. Apparently I started to sound a bit nostalgic, because he cocked an eyebrow at me and asked, "are you sure you're happier now?"
Tough question for the past month. I never know why these old dreams surface, why life as it was can suddenly seem so much better than life as it is. I could easily blame sleepless nights or demanding children or the monotony of domesticity, but I don't think they're to blame. I am happier now -- or, at the very very least, equally happy in different ways. As I said a while back -- and it still surprises me to say it -- my heart is full. I am head-over-heels in love with my boys, all three of them, and I wouldn't trade now for then for the world.
So what is with the nostalgia, then?
I suspect that, two Sundays ago, church was designed specifically for me and this struggle. [Actually, it was a sheep-heavy theme, as we headed into a week of Psalm-23-based vacation Bible school, but that's beside the point.] I kept hearing -- well, the truths I needed to hear:
~The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not desire anything . . . (Psalm 23)
~Lord I would place my hand in Thine . . . content whatever lot I see . . . (He Leadeth Me)
~Hast thou not seen how all thy longings have been granted in what He ordaineth? (Praise to the Lord, the Almighty)
That last one, that's my favorite line out of any hymn, ever. It hits me every time. Every single longing: they're all met according to God's sovereignty. To be discontent -- to long for things past -- is to display ingratitude for the blessings of the present. And check out these blessings:
How could I possibly want anything else??
Recently I accompanied a high school girl I know at her cello competition. Once upon a time, orchestra [I played the cello] was one of my favorite things to be involved in. Once upon a more recent time, I entertained thoughts of graduate school in accompaniment work. I know how my skills have atrophied.
A few weeks ago, I glanced down at the cross on my ankle and thought, "I would totally get another tattoo," knowing full well that when I got the first one (for my 25th birthday), I swore up and down that it would be my only one. Not two days later, all relaxed in our pedicure chairs, my mom randomly remarks, "I think you should get another tattoo." I don't think we put a line in the budget for that . . .
Just last night, Isaac and I got to talking about my life the summer before we met: single, living on my own in a 1-bedroom apartment, teaching 50 piano students a week. I was making more than enough money to make ends meet, I wasn't responsible for anyone except me and my little dog Jasper, I had a job I loved, I was losing weight for no apparent reason. Apparently I started to sound a bit nostalgic, because he cocked an eyebrow at me and asked, "are you sure you're happier now?"
Tough question for the past month. I never know why these old dreams surface, why life as it was can suddenly seem so much better than life as it is. I could easily blame sleepless nights or demanding children or the monotony of domesticity, but I don't think they're to blame. I am happier now -- or, at the very very least, equally happy in different ways. As I said a while back -- and it still surprises me to say it -- my heart is full. I am head-over-heels in love with my boys, all three of them, and I wouldn't trade now for then for the world.
So what is with the nostalgia, then?
I suspect that, two Sundays ago, church was designed specifically for me and this struggle. [Actually, it was a sheep-heavy theme, as we headed into a week of Psalm-23-based vacation Bible school, but that's beside the point.] I kept hearing -- well, the truths I needed to hear:
~The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not desire anything . . . (Psalm 23)
~Lord I would place my hand in Thine . . . content whatever lot I see . . . (He Leadeth Me)
~Hast thou not seen how all thy longings have been granted in what He ordaineth? (Praise to the Lord, the Almighty)
That last one, that's my favorite line out of any hymn, ever. It hits me every time. Every single longing: they're all met according to God's sovereignty. To be discontent -- to long for things past -- is to display ingratitude for the blessings of the present. And check out these blessings:
How could I possibly want anything else??
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