Sometimes my walk with God reminds me of music.
I know how to play 3 instruments; the alto sax, the clarinet, and the recorder.
(As far as skill goes, it's not exactly in that order.)
In grade 4, like the majority of students of my generation and general location, I got to
embark on the arduous and toilsome task of leaning an instrument.
For the young students in BES, it was the recorder.
Sometimes I'd wonder if my little plastic recorder could even be classified as an instrument.
I definitely wouldn't call the sound that came out of it 90% of the time "music"; just noise.
Yet every day, we'd march into music class and practice until the pads of our fingers were
imprinted with the shape of the little holes, and every night I would practice until the awful noise
coming out of it wasn't half as awful.
In hindsight. I would like to apologize to my mother, father, brother AND dog for invoking that torture on them.
(I also extend the remorse of my music teacher, Ms.McLeod. Really, it was her fault, rather than mine.)
When I moved up to middle school, we got to choose REAL instruments with which to inflict pain. My newest weapon of choice being the clarinet. Now, after you discover the secret of playing the clarinet without it tickling your tongue, it's pretty much smooth sailing from there. The rest is learning the notes and making The Face. The Face is pretty much what it all depends on. Strong chops. You learn pretty early on that if you don't get a proper hold on The Face, the noise that escapes is rather recorder-esque in nature.
I suppose it's like that for most instruments, there's always those one or two things that determine what comes out. In grade six, the majority of the fruit we reaped in band class were bum notes. I again extend my deepest sympathies to my parents, and even more so, my then-sixteen year old brother, for having to sit through some of those concerts (Mostly my brother; dragged there by force).
However, as the months and years wore on, the noise escaping my instrument seemed to improve for the most part. By highschool, the concerts were actually pretty enjoyable. I suppose practice at my house was a tad less nerve-racking, as well. Overtime "Hot cross buns" became "La Belle and Le Capitaine".
Regrettably, there was a year or so when I just wasn't interested in practice at all, and I fell behind quite a bit. I wasn't nearly as bad as when I had started out, but it seemed a lot worse, because I was making a lot more mistakes than my peers.
I loved the times in band class when I wouldn't be playing, and I got to sit and listen to the symphony surrounding me. Every once and awhile, there may have been a bum note, but in the grand scheme of things, it was true beauty.
See, I kind of view my walk with God like that. Maybe when you first start out, or maybe half way through like me, the music you make with God isn't at its best. Maybe it seems like all you're making is mistakes, if you compare yourself to those around you. However, if you work at it, if you practice each day and you focus on making that beautiful music again, it gets easier.... you start to make a few less mistakes, and in time, you're part of a brilliant orchestra. It's not always perfect, we all hit a bum note sometimes, even the most incredible musicians have their bad days.... but in the long run, the music can be breathtaking.
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