A New Song...

I started playing the violin the last day of second grade.  I asked my mom if I could take lessons sometime in the fall of that academic year, which was two years before instruments started in our school district, and she said that if I was still interested in June, she would sign me up. I think that she hoped I would forget, being the easily distracted 7-year-old that I was. Well, I didn’t forget. She picked me up from my last day as a second grader and we drove to a local music store where I met the owner and violin teacher. She was patient for the next 11 years, guiding me as I fumbled through etudes and destroyed concertos. 

My violin days faded away in college and were only briefly revisited in the years following. By the time I had graduated, the black case was collecting dust under my bed and would come out about once a year. I’d play a few songs whose notes are still ingrained in my brain today, put it back into case and think to myself, “hmmmm...it’d be fun to play in a symphony again one day.”

I’d also notice how much it hurt the tips of my fingers to play this instrument that used to be so familiar. With orchestra everyday, theoretically practicing every evening and visiting my private teacher once a week, I had unintentionally developed little callouses...and didn’t even know that they were there until it was very apparent that they were not. My fingers had become numb to the metal strings sliding firmly below them, dancing up and down the finger board to create music. I didn’t feel it anymore. 

Growing up in the church, my heart sometimes felt that way about Christmas and Easter. The familiar truths become background noise that was unnoticeable amidst the chaos of holidays, the lists of things to do and all the other shiny distractions. I was tempted to glaze over the passages read about Jesus’ birth and my heart not pierced as his resurrection was preached, until I realized that my focus had shifted and it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. It wasn't new and exciting and different. It may be life-changing information that I took very seriously, but it wasn’t something on which I was consciously focusing, like breathing oxygen, which was an unfortunate situation. 

This December as I mailed only a small handful of Christmas cards to scattered friends and family across the country, I found myself writing words of prayers for friends that I often pray for myself: My God surprise you with His great love and incredibly joy in new and different ways.

As we are welcoming another Christmas season and will then be looking forward to focusing on Jesus’ life and resurrection, may our hearts and minds notice and focus on this story, whether it be the first time we’ve truly heard and understood the significance of this seriously ridiculously loving God and what He did for us.