Unfinished

There was a day this week that I just crashed. So I opened up my violin case and practiced recently. Really practiced. I put in time that I haven't for quite a while. There is a particular piece of music I received while still in high school. The piece is a hymn from the children's songbook. If you're LDS you'll recognize it: "Love is Spoke Here." Seems easy enough, right? Not really. Let me explain. This song has two melodies that are sung at the same time. Sometimes the boys will sing one strain and the girls will sing another. The musical term escapes me, it's not a round, but it's similar to that idea. This particular arrangement of the song is a beast because it has the violinist playing both parts of the song at  the same time. But that is also where the beauty lies!

I remember spending time trying to learn this piece as a teenager. I even took it to my teacher and asked for help on those tricky double stops. (I HATE double stops.) My instructor, recognizing the insane nature of the piece, attempted to make a few modifications to the arrangement in order to make it more manageable. However, these changes would have destroyed the original melodies, which are recognizable to those of us who grew up with the song. It wasn't very long after this violin lesson that I put the piece aside, and only causally looked at it from time to time.

However, I thought it might be nice to have at least one new church arrangement perfected, and ready to perform. So I pulled out the piece again and spent time going through those particular measures over and over. I had determination. I told myself that I wouldn't give up this time. I thought, if I just plow through these eight or so measures today, then I can come back tomorrow and perfect the other eight or so measures then. When evening fell, I was certainly better than when I had started on those eight measures, but they weren't perfect yet.

I must have lost steam since I haven't picked up the instrument since Tuesday. But Courtney! Don't give up! Change is possible.

There are so many half started projects that I want to finish. Many of these projects are dear to me. (I have little collection of family history books that I've been dreaming of self publishing. I published one last Christmas, but the others are just sitting as lonely files on my desktop. I want to sew, garden, hold Family Home Evening, etc.) However, I'm realizing that I don't have as many hours in a day as I thought! I was so sure that by working part time, I would knock each of these goals off my list. But I'm struck with the reality that change takes time and prioritization! Yet I want perfection now! I think one of the biggest threats to real change is giving up too soon. Loosing vision. I tell myself that an afternoon of practice wasn't successful and move on to something else, instead of sticking with the challenge day after day. 

I've been thinking about Abrahamic tests. Abraham is a hero of mine. I ache to have the kind of moral conviction that Abraham had. But as I ask myself whether or not I would truly be able to "give up" a family member, if asked, I question and doubt whether or not I would be able to actually follow through. I hope I would. Logically I can tell myself that God never asks anything of us that isn't for our growth and ultimate good. Logically, I can claim that if I had clear enough communication regarding the matter, I might be able to comply. But at the same time, thinking of living life without Cameron makes me shudder.  And truthfully, I don't know how obedient I would really be.

I had put this thought aside for some time, (it's too depressing to think about falling short :) but the other day, a thought came to mind. Abraham wasn't asked to sacrifice Isaac as a 26 year old. I can't remember his exact age, but I'm thinking he was nearly 100 years old when he was asked, and prepared to obey. His lifetime of faith, obedience, and communication with the divine likely built up to that moment. I believe God is patient with us.

I hope this doesn't come off as an excuse. Of course, we shouldn't procrastinate change. But for some reason, I felt some peace in realizing that, perhaps, 26 is still young. Yes, I'm unfinished, but stay on the path! Don't lose sight!