Priorities

I've been having a hard time with my kids lately. The past few weeks leading up to a performance when hubby was out of town, then came back only to suffer the symptoms of hand, foot, mouth disease, and two toddler viruses in a row, things were pretty tough. I have a two year who is giving me every kind of bedtime fuss and climbed into bed with us at 5am this morning(!) only to kick and wound me in every way possible, and a four year old that is totally emo. There are long stretches of time where she doesn't speak, but instead gives me complaining eyes, grunts, or pouty faces. Perplexing to say the least.

For a few months now, I've been really into my work on a whole new level. Having two concerts with different programs in a relatively short amount of time made me pretty obsessive about using every possible moment towards some end of preparation. Every moment that the kids were occupied I had to be doing something. It made me a bit high-strung - no wonder my Seattle trip turned out to feel mostly like a vacation! Yes, it's true - and what mother hasn't ever said this? My kids stress me out.

But here is where I had to check myself today. Our pastor today was preaching on sin, from Genesis 3, talking about the fall. He was talking about how the enemy is always tempting us to take something that God gives us that is good and twist it, mostly by convincing us to value that good thing above all else. When I think about guitar playing, there are so many things I love about it. I love moments when I have complete control over the sound in a room, where I can decide how to pace something, or change the color of a passage, or play it in a way that conveys an emotion that I've felt about a piece of music. I love the feeling of being able to shape sound by touching a string. And in my quest to discover more of what I want my sound to be, I think I've been in a place where my family responsibilities have become a bit of an annoyance and less of an enjoyment - and that makes me sad.

There must be a way in which I can pursue my work to the fullest, and be completely present for my husband and kids. But there's that ever escaping thing called time that I seem to be always chasing. For a season, I suppose this has been good for me - to go after my playing with ferocity and feel nearly greedy about having practice time. But today God revealed to me what an idol my career can be for me, that even the things I once found undesirable about being a performing artist are tempting, and serve as almost an escape from the mundaneness of my every day life. Because when I come home and am scraping old cheerios from the floor and doing three loads of laundry, I can't help but think about what a different place I was the last time I was on a stage.

I often get this post-concert depression type of thing, but I actually came away from this last concert feeling hungry for more. After I spent four days cleaning my house and not practicing, I'm ready to tackle learning music for a new recording project, taking a few new students, and editing some duo videos we shot a few weeks ago. It's thrilling to be excited about your work, but today I felt compelled to pray a simple prayer after hearing the sermon. That God would allow my heart to release its clutches from idolizing my career dreams and to put Him first, my dear hubby second, my kids third, and my career after that.

And as Paul hopped on a plane to NYC this afternoon, and after I taught a student while C took a good long nap and E played on the tablet, I spent the rest of my afternoon enjoying my kids - snacking with them, being engaged with them, even helping them discover something new. In the kids' book, Olivia, Olivia is reading a book about Maria Callas and dreams of being an opera singer. E asked about who she was, so I pulled up YouTube on my phone and we watched Maria Callas sing "O mio babbino caro" (E asking, "Why is she gray?" since the video was in black and white - ha!). The girls were enthralled, their eyes fixed on the screen in awe. And I was so deeply happy to be present with them.