A Little Poetry, Expressing to the Lord

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Too many thoughts and yearnings I’ll not have time for.

When will I have time for?

I want to write, to compose, to explore.

To read, to be me, to find more.

Yet the monotony of school takes it away,

All the time and energy I have in a day.

“I’m trapped!”

My yearning to express and create are buried.

Instead, I am left with a lengthy must-do list hurried.

Since when did I dislike this so much?

Homework, studying, even practicing.

I find myself…procrastinating?

But I don’t have time for writing fiction in “free” time,

For to find time would mean more “me” time.

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Will I not have opportunity to do what I want?

Will I be in the workplace just as distraught?

“Do what you love,” I’m encouraged, but that is the thing.

I love to write, to create, make music, and serve the King.

How am I ever to do all that?

Will I have to give it all up?

What if…I hear, and I lower my head.

Maybe surrendering is what I’ll do instead.

So I lay it all down, ready to do anything.

I feel God’s smile, and to him I start to sing.

I have forgotten my faith.

I have lost all patience.

When?

When will I know?

There are so many questions I have unanswered.

Oh ye of little faith.

A plea emerges from the depths of me, and I wrestle, for I have no answer.

Why do you wrestle with yourself? Why do you have to be the one with the answer?

But, Lord, I’m in turmoil!

An ascending d minor seventh chord plays a lonesome scale.

But I’m right here, I will never leave you or forsake you.

Why can’t I see you?

Are you looking? 

I pause and the haunting melody stops abruptly.

I take the plea in my hands, one that I don’t even understand, and hand it to him.

Keep on living. Don’t stop all to wait.  Trust my timing. 

I do not understand what is in the depths of me.

But God created me.

He knows me better than I do.

Let me near.

And so I shall.

Written 1-20-13, Anna Olson

What?

“I don’t know if I want to teach.”  After some pretty awesome discussions with various friends and sisters in the US at the moment, I have been a blade of grass in the wind: yes…no….yes…no.  Last night after talking things out with the lovely Janae, I was more back to the “yes” part again.  And I began to reason why.  Writing my philosophy of music education paper has been helping in these thoughts, as well.  This morning, I put all my thoughts on paper in a momologue:

 

To teach, or not to teach, that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to go crazy

The slings and arrows of endless music

Or to take arms against a sea of sporadic energy, attitudes, and moods

And by opposing avoid them.  To teach, to be a little crazy—

Yay more—and by crazy to say become the true music nerd I was born (always)

The headache, and the thousand natural shocks

That being a teacher in the public schools are heir to.  ‘Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be undesired.  To teach, to be too busy—

To be too busy, perhaps to bring on a physical catastrophe; nay, there’s my fear.

For in that catastrophe there is an unpredictable aspect

What would happen before and during recovery;

This is my hesitation.  There’s the faith

That I can’t find when it comes to these things.

For what problems are too big for my God?

None exists, for he is bigger than it all.

The pangs of fear, the doubt’s grasp,

The lack of confidence, and the hesitancy

That loom in the thought of being in a public school.

Who but my God could drown these out,

And fill instead with peace and confidence,

With grace?  Who but my God could carry me

Through any trials that come my way.

But that love of something there instead,

The music and students who explore it.

How could I abandon these and relinquish

To one that may not teach as well or

Give the opportunities I might provide?

This opposing thought puzzles the will,

And makes me lean the other way again.

I may not be the best at everything my classmates here are,

But I have different qualities that will be the best where I am.

I know not where I may be or what I’ll teach

But if the call comes through and I hear it, I’ll go.

With this regard the currents of doubt turn away

And lose themselves is my passion for the music.  – Soft you now,

The fair melodies and rhythms!  —  Future employers, in thy interviews

Be all my passions visible.