Bianco

Four years ago I walked into the library to scour the sale table in search of some book with great illustrations to be used in a collage piece.  In the midst of this search, I found records selling for 50 cents, so cheap!  I looked through the unfamiliar, awkwardly-sized things, not really sure why.  There was something romantic about them that was speaking into my heart.  I wanted one, but it all seemed rather outdated and pointless really, since I had no way of listening to it.  The left half of my brain won out and I chose this little gem:

I bought my books and record and continued on my merry way.  The record was always around, it sat gathering dust on a shelf in my room, moved under a few piles of papers, lived amidst school books and old handouts.  I would run across it every so often only to brush off the dust and admire the cover.  I guess the mystery was a little alluring to me, I didn't know what it sounded like, and perhaps there was a chance I would never know, but I kept it just the same.  A little over a year ago I visited my sister, surprised to find that she had bought a record player at a garage sale. SCORE! As soon as I had the chance, I brought my beloved little record over to her condo to hear, after three years of waiting and wondering, what it would sing to me.

It was beautiful.  I've always had a special place in my heart for the harp, there's something delicately beautiful in its sound that makes my eyes misty and my heart swell with emotion.

From that point, I was on a mission to find a record player... within my budget.  Craigslist searches commenced. I learned a lot about record players in a very short amount of time, most of which I don't really remember, but there was a point where I theoretically knew how to change a needle and make my own matt.  After telling my dad about my quest, he surprised me by buying me a brand new record player for my birthday! I was one happy kiddo, for now I could listen to Bianco's Harp and Orchestra whenever I wanted.  

Since then I have collected a variety of LPs from rummage sales, resale shops, record stores, and my grandmother's old record collection which I found while cleaning out the basement, but I always come back to listen to Bianco.  He taught me a lesson in patience and reward that I will never forget.  

A New Season

It's really been an interesting week. I've put in a ton of hours working on little sleep and almost died in the heat yesterday.  I have a list of phone calls to make that's a mile long, my poor puppy is sick as, well, a dog, I've been in and out of strange moods that I'm unsure how to deal with, and I have had a complaining problem that I can't seem to shake...

Despite that, somehow, good things came out of this week.  Good, encouraging things.  The kind of things that make me think that I'm on the right track, I'm in God's will... and nothing can be sweeter than that.

On the drive home tonight, God gave me a sense of joy and fullness that I haven't felt in so very long.  I could feel his presence so strongly, it was as though he was giving me a giant hug and assuring me that I'm headed in the right direction and everything really IS going to turn out all right.  I drove forever. He showed me a glimpse of the beauty, grace, and freedom He's leading me to, while reminding me to learn from the past, but at the same time, to put behind those former things.

This is a new season.

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."  Isaiah 43:18 

Ehk.

Today: 

For the first time in a while I am completely disappointed in myself.  I don't know why I let silly and stupid excuses get in the way of me putting 100% into something I'm working on.  As I listened to myself making excuses for my subpar work, I began to realize that I was using double standards and what an awful realization that was.  I've always been one to believe that there truly are no excuses for most things.  I've never been sympathetic to people who give excuses: my face may be saying "I understand..." but in my head I'm thinking "really? you couldn't try any harder? What you mean is you didn't WANT to try any harder..."  And perhaps that is a bit unforgiving and harsh, but I feel as though it's correct.  I guess most of the time I hold myself to these standards, but not all of the time, and when I don't I really feel like crap.  This, coupled with a strange night yesterday in which I was completely guilty of not following an impression God strongly put on my heart, is really bringing me down.

Surely things will look up again soon.