Post 29: Closing the Door

I love to play the piano.  I have taken lessons since I was six or seven, although they were intermittent (I’m just impressed my Mom was able to find me a teacher no matter where in the NWT we lived).  I do not own a piano, so I really don’t get to play that often.  But we have two at the school I’m currently working at—one in the staff room and one in the foyer.

I am not a great pianist.  I can sight read really well, but throughout the years of lessons I didn’t enjoy the technical aspects as much.  I may be anal about some things (like dishes and the state of my house and the arrangement of our bistro table on our front porch), but other things I am not so anal about.  Like practicing piano.

Playing piano was something I did purely for enjoyment.  It is a means of expressing myself.  My grade twelve year I was thrust into play for church and I continued to do so up until a few years ago.  I always attended churches that were somewhat desperate for musicians, so they were happy to have me.  In the last few years I have either been in a church for too short of a time to bother trying to join a worship team, or I haven’t wanted to because I can acknowledge that I am not that good technically.

Don’t get me wrong, I play with feeling.  And usually when I sit down and start chording it is because I need to express myself to God and words just aren’t cutting it.  I have had some people tell me that when I play the enjoyment and the expression is what comes through.  And it helps them to worship.

But the whole point of this is that I love to express myself through playing, but haven’t had much opportunity to.  This week I have been on our school pianos every morning.

Why?

Because I have needed to go to God and I am tired of going to Him with words and tears.

On Monday night I found out that my maternity leave position was not being continued.  They had decided to only schedule the teacher I was filling in for for the second semester when she will be back.

And that came as a bit of a blow.  It was rough because nothing had been communicated with me.  It was humbling (and who likes to be humbled).  And it just hurt.  I had really been hoping this would continue and was looking forward to working full-time.

So these last few mornings the piano has been my cry.

About a year ago I was in the midst of finishing off teaching and preparing to hop in my car and drive across the country to get married.  It was a terribly exciting time.

It was also a time of grieving.

I was preparing to leave behind family, friends, and an incredible job.  My students were more than my students—they were my kids.  I cared about how they were doing, and was honoured to me a mentor to some. 

We went through a period of time where I could have sworn that at every chapel service at my school we sang the song “Oceans.”  This song became my anthem.  I want to share the words with you.

Verse 1

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

Chorus
And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Verse 2
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

Chorus
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Bridge
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

Last Friday we sang this song in our morning assembly and it brought be back to that time.  Of course, last Friday I thought I would have a position next year.  This morning I found myself looking up the chords for the song and it was what I played.

Part of me can laugh.  Between a run-in with tenants, no Hawaii trip, a week where it seemed like nothing I tried with my students was working, the theft of our flower boxes (yes, we woke up Monday morning and someone had stolen our flower boxes off of our porch), and then the realization that I have no full-time work lined up for the fall makes me want to laugh.  Insanity?  Perhaps.

I bawled Monday night when I found out.  Ask my poor husband.  My sister and brother called me instantly to talk about it.  My parents were there for me the next morning, and my mother-in-law was there Tuesday night. 

But today there is peace.  Disappointment.  And hurt.  But peace doesn’t mean an absence of those things.

God has continually been faithful in my life.  He has rarely done things the way that I want them done, but His ideas always turn out better than mine.  Why would this time be any different?

I didn’t rage against Him.  I didn’t even ask Him why.  As we prayed Monday night, Jordan talked about God closing doors and opening others.  He reminded me that something will open up.  And I know that is true.  It might not be what I want right now, and it might be something completely different, but it will be good.

Because God is good.

That hasn’t changed just because things haven’t gone the way I want them to.