Created to be more.
Created to do more. Created to
feel more, created to feel less. Existing. These
thoughts roll around and around in my mind like a child having nightmares while they
sleep. Anxious, restless, angry even. I don’t know why. Something in me wants to come out, something
in my heart wants to explode. I’m
unhappy. I’m happy. I am tired.
I feel no rest. I want to feel
secure with who I am. With what I
am. But I am not. I am not.
Complaining. No, not complaining. Tired of being below where I want to be. Tired of striving for things, stuff, people,
arenas, processes totally not worth the effort. Wanting
more but getting less. Less of what I
want. And what do I want? Fully, I don’t know. Partially, it’s a different place, a
different experience, maybe live on a different planet with different people or
maybe just a different country, seeing different people. I have everything I need physically. My clothing is much. My food is much, too much. My shelter is much. My work is much. My effort is much. My family is much. Much of my time and it should be.
So what is it...? Is
it wanting to do more or just something else?
Something for others. Something for
me or for both at the same time? I’ve
tasted something recently that fills part of my heart that caring for my family does
not. Is that bad? Am I bad?
I feel bad for saying that, for feeling that. It is a huge restlessness for me just to take
care of my family. That’s a horrible
thought, but for me it is true. It’s
honesty. I should want to just care for
my family. Shouldn’t I? Be available, cook those dinners, help out with
every need and desire. Shop, teach, clean,
wipe that pile of barf up one more time, be a good example, being a bad one and
then trying to do better. Oh, I’m
exhausted. I’m tired of it. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I am.
And I think too much. That's always been one of my problems. I wish I could turn it off. I’ve tried. Oh, just do it, won’t you?! I can’t. I’ve tried thinking happy thoughts, thinking positive thoughts, praying, blocking out how I feel. I’m tired of feeling like just an ignored cog in someone’s wheel or not even a cog, just feeling like a nobody when I know that just can't be true. And maybe it’s just a feeling. I wish I could turn those off, too. I am always trying to be for others, do for others and for my family without much of a take away for self. I don’t want to quit altogether, but I do want more. More of what I want. Not all of what I want, but just some more, even a little more. There is a place for self in all of our lives. There should be a place for self for me. I want a tiny space that is all mine. Just a tiny one. I’ve been having this conversation with myself for years. I want something that fulfills me in a way that other things cannot and will not. I have now tasted something and I’m hungry for more. More.
And I think too much. That's always been one of my problems. I wish I could turn it off. I’ve tried. Oh, just do it, won’t you?! I can’t. I’ve tried thinking happy thoughts, thinking positive thoughts, praying, blocking out how I feel. I’m tired of feeling like just an ignored cog in someone’s wheel or not even a cog, just feeling like a nobody when I know that just can't be true. And maybe it’s just a feeling. I wish I could turn those off, too. I am always trying to be for others, do for others and for my family without much of a take away for self. I don’t want to quit altogether, but I do want more. More of what I want. Not all of what I want, but just some more, even a little more. There is a place for self in all of our lives. There should be a place for self for me. I want a tiny space that is all mine. Just a tiny one. I’ve been having this conversation with myself for years. I want something that fulfills me in a way that other things cannot and will not. I have now tasted something and I’m hungry for more. More.
So I began teaching music classes at church, something small. Then I began teaching the kids at church songs and eventually led the church children
in song this Christmas and I will say that has filled a space in my heart that makes me
rejoice greatly. And I felt worth something, I felt productive. I felt helpful. I felt useful. It may seem stupid to think that this made me feel the way I should feel every day at home. This experience brought such joy to my heart and I can't explain it fully.
We learned a couple of choir songs that were a little difficult, coupled with three easier songs and they did it. With much work, effort and practice, they did it. And the biggest joy to my heart was to see the faithful neighborhood kids come and sing. Every. Single. Week. The most rewarding aspect of all of this practice for me was really this. *This.
We learned a couple of choir songs that were a little difficult, coupled with three easier songs and they did it. With much work, effort and practice, they did it. And the biggest joy to my heart was to see the faithful neighborhood kids come and sing. Every. Single. Week. The most rewarding aspect of all of this practice for me was really this. *This.
No parents to bring them to church, to practice in some cases. And maybe no one to be there when they get home or at the Christmas program they were working so hard on. Maybe not as bad as that, but so much is said in their faces. Those unspoken words. The non-verbal communication. My desire to draw more words, more interaction out of them, but not achieving it breaks my heart.
Some of those children with holes in t-shirts with stains on them and
almost a hallow look in their eyes. They
sang. Engaging them verbally, attempting to reach down into their souls as I see them in passing or on the playground at church...my attempts have been feeble at best, but in song those hallow eyes grew large with interest. They opened their little mouths in such a
way I’ve never seen. They recited a
poem, sang a solo and in a choir with us together.
Black, white, poor, better off, Latino. They sang. They were together. They did it together without fighting, without fear, without the world’s racial clash. There was no greater gift to me in my heart this Christmas tide with all the news you wish you could ignore, but can’t and shouldn’t. So much sadness in this world and hate, bitterness and rage.
The times they came up to me spontaneously at church and burst into song, proud to know the songs that I had taught them or asked for the words to bring home so they could practice more. We connected in a way I never could achieve in passing before. They were so elusive. Some were bored, too, in the beginning, but even the bored ones pulled through and did it.
I’ve led kids in song before but not much, sadly. This. This. It was something magical for me. I want to do it again and again, but I know that is unreasonable. Unreasonable. Or maybe not. I see myself having an after school and Summer program for all the kids in the church neighborhood who have nothing to do but get into trouble. Singing, learning music, everything about music, instead of wasting time or being ignored or getting into loads of trouble or simply a place and time to escape from reality. Something to build these children up, their families up, provide a kind of family and build this tired, distressed community up. Up. My heart is big and I want more. More for these kids and a fulfillment in my soul I can't receive elsewhere. I'm tired of closing my eyes, heart and soul away from the part of the world I can and want to help in my own way.
Black, white, poor, better off, Latino. They sang. They were together. They did it together without fighting, without fear, without the world’s racial clash. There was no greater gift to me in my heart this Christmas tide with all the news you wish you could ignore, but can’t and shouldn’t. So much sadness in this world and hate, bitterness and rage.
The times they came up to me spontaneously at church and burst into song, proud to know the songs that I had taught them or asked for the words to bring home so they could practice more. We connected in a way I never could achieve in passing before. They were so elusive. Some were bored, too, in the beginning, but even the bored ones pulled through and did it.
I’ve led kids in song before but not much, sadly. This. This. It was something magical for me. I want to do it again and again, but I know that is unreasonable. Unreasonable. Or maybe not. I see myself having an after school and Summer program for all the kids in the church neighborhood who have nothing to do but get into trouble. Singing, learning music, everything about music, instead of wasting time or being ignored or getting into loads of trouble or simply a place and time to escape from reality. Something to build these children up, their families up, provide a kind of family and build this tired, distressed community up. Up. My heart is big and I want more. More for these kids and a fulfillment in my soul I can't receive elsewhere. I'm tired of closing my eyes, heart and soul away from the part of the world I can and want to help in my own way.
This is my restlessness, and I see that it has been satisfied, relieved in a way by these moments with these kids.
But I do.
I realize that this restlessness is also my consolation prize. It keeps me from a place of mediocrity and disparity. It will and it has. That is what I see now. I see it. I do. A light bulb...it’s on and it’s blinking bright on this very frustrating day. I am human and I didn’t see it at first glance, but now I do. I do. I see.
But I do.
I realize that this restlessness is also my consolation prize. It keeps me from a place of mediocrity and disparity. It will and it has. That is what I see now. I see it. I do. A light bulb...it’s on and it’s blinking bright on this very frustrating day. I am human and I didn’t see it at first glance, but now I do. I do. I see.
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