Summer

Sometimes I feel like I'm missing the point of life.

Through worrying about bouncing rent cheques and whether I have enough to buy milk this week, I've been focusing way too much on money. And knowing I am now never going to live with my parents again, I've been focusing way too much on my social life to compensate for the loneliness and insecurity of that. I am living on my own this summer. I've technically been living on my own since first year, but it's a bit different when your groceries and rent are pre-paid for and your parents are still there to go to after the school year is done for summer.

Sometimes I think I'm just trying to pass the time. I've been doing a lot of excessive lying around and gawking at TV screens for hours on end. Part of it is that I'm only working part time, part of it is a thoroughly-needed recovery from third year university, but much of it is still just trying to pass the time. Just to fast forward. Just to coast life for a bit. Not have to live purposefully, but just. . .sleep, eat, and hang out with people. It's nice, and I do think I was overwhelmed in the school year, but at the same time I think I'm starting to border on wasting time, getting depressed, and forget my goals and purposes in life.

My greatest concerns in life right now are things like how I'm going to manage to pay for tuition and a wedding, whether my rent cheque is going to go through, and what my next meal will be. But the Lord keeps bringing me back to this passage: "For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:32-34)

I had my makeup voice jury the other day, which is a final exam for voice lessons. (I had to make it up six weeks later because I had the flu during exam week). It involves three memorized operatic-type songs (typically in foreign languages), a very small room, poker faces, mysterious pencil scribblings, and a handful of very intimidating music professors who really do not like to give out high grades. I had been practicing for two or three weeks prior, and in my practice everything went perfectly well. My phrasings were beautifully shaped and well supported, my German pronunciation was going well, and overall I thought I sounded great, and enjoyed expressing the songs. Things were pretty different the day of jury, though. As per usual, I started to get a horrible stomach ache several hours before, I felt light headed, and I didn't have the greatest night's sleep. But I kept up my positive self-talk, warmed up several hours before, and basically did whatever I could to make sure I was at my best, singing-wise. Finally the time came, 12:15pm. I walked into 125G, placed my music neatly for the accompanist, and stood in the curve of the piano. The jurors looked over the sheet music and began scribbling. Silence. The opening chord was given to me, I attempted to breathe, and failed. My rib cage clenched my lungs, my abdomen muscles clung to my diaphragm. . .The voice that ensued was not my own. It was my body going through the motions as best it could under crippling scrutiny. Complete with audible gasps, airy melodies, squeaks, far too many breaths, and virtually no expression. Especially not in the first two songs.

Psalm 117

Praise the LORD, all you nations;
extol him, all you peoples.

For great is his love toward us,
and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.
Praise the LORD.

I want this to be my life song. I could sing it so well all alone. For the first time in my life, when I go into a practice room I'm not nervous or wondering if anyone outside can hear me. When I walk into a practice room, I look around, feel the acoustics of the space, relish in the woods of the walls, as if they're delicious. And want nothing more than to fill the entire room with the sound of my voice. A rich, pure, sweet, radiant sound, something fresh and unique, something well-crafted, gorgeous, uplifting. I want to move people the way I was moved when I heard Maria Stader sing Mozart's "Laudate Dominum." I want people to taste the elegance and richness of my melody. I want people to lose themselves in the music the way I deliver it. I want to give something to the world. And I don't want to be crippled. I want to shine.

I've been thinking about what it means to seek first God's kingdom and his righteousness. And I think that it might have something to do with singing a new song, and being able to shine like stars in the universe. Tomorrow I'm teaching a Sunday school lesson on using your gifts and talents for God. And I think I need to teach that lesson to myself.