Since I was little I have always loved music. I love the feeling music rises inside me. I have never been very particular. I like so many kinds of music. If you were to look through my very limited CD collection, you would probably think it belonged to several people. You can skip through to see classical, jazz, 80's rock, 90's rock, even some 70's in there, show tunes, christian, country, folk, and of course some hair bands. I always dreamed of playing music. As a young child, I tried several times. I first tried claranet in 4th grade. Sadly the band instructor asked me to stop. I then tried guitar, but struggled to even learn one song. In college, I again tried my hand at music. I took an Intro to Music class. My professor was a lovely lady who was so kind in telling me I had no rhythm. But she helped me to get through the class because she saw the love I had for the music. She even recommended I take World Music the following semester. I devoured this course, as it not only spoke to me through the music but the history and culture. If you have ever heard me sing, you know American Idol was never in my future. But that has never kept me from singing! I was a dancer, though, and some how I managed to excel at this. I never counted the beats as it did not make sense to me. So I came up with ways to memorize where the steps went to the sound of the music.
I always hoped one of my children would want to play an instrument. When Brooke asked to play piano, I might have squealed and jumped up and down a bit. I love to sit in her room and listen to her practice. She is so determined about it, and even the simplest songs make me smile. I am so proud of her and thankful I have music gracing the insides of our home. It gives warmth even from little 7 year old fingers. I was over the moon about her piano recital. See I am not a sports fan. I have learned to find joy in watching Aidan play. I am also amazed by what athletes can do, but long games have never been exciting to me. When Aidan gave up Irish dance and we found out Brooke could not dance, my heart sank a little. I grew up dancing and doing gymnastics. For me it was a part of daily life. Dance gave me joy and I so wanted Brooke to find something that would do the same for her.
Today I woke up in awful pain. These weather changes cause huge issues in my body. I try to put on the "I am fine face" but time is showing I am not. I can barely walk most days, and Hubby has picked up almost all of the household chores. Even the simplest things like lifting a cup, or writing a note is very painful. The pain meds do not work well, and I am not able to see the pain specialist until March. A trip out means at least one or two days down in bed. And when I say a trip out I mean the grocery. So I knew this morning even getting out of bed would be a struggle. I laid there trying to figure out what to do. I called Brooke in and told her I could not make it to the recital. Before I could even tell her I was proud of her big crocodile tears streamed down her face. My heart broke. I wiped those tears and pulled her into the bed next to me. We laid for a minute crying. Then I prayed....prayed for strength to just get to this recital. I knew going would mean I would have to be completely humbled. My hair had not been washed in days. I could not risk a shower or bath because they exhaust me. I had to pull the hair up and pray no one noticed. My clothes looked like I slept in them, and I knew I would have to use the cane. And once again my mama and papa would have to come to my rescue and drive us.
I try to be ok with my illness, to make light of a very bad situation. I try most days to find the silver lining. But sometimes I just get angry. Angry at all these illnesses taking time from my kids. Angry my kids suffer. Angry my hubby can't have hobbies and a life. Angry we will always be in medical debt. Angry that I am 36 and have to use a cane, and even with it walk very slow. Then someone prays for us...someone loves on us...someone reminds me life is still full of hope. I pushed aside pride and anger to be blessed by my daughter. She played beautiful...and no one cared her mama had ugly hair and a cane. To blessed even more her teacher's family showered us with love, and tells me I look beautiful. May seem silly but to quote a friend of mine...I was a "hot mess". Sitting there listening to all those kids play beautiful Christmas music was wonderful. To hear a 14 year old sing music which literally made me cry was a little Christmas gift. For me music is beauty and life. Many crave words, or art. For me music can make me feel closer to heaven than anything else. Once again my sweet bug helped me be hopeful. She held my hand, smiled, kissed me, and shared her heart.