Happy Tuesday, My Friend!
I wonder, has anyone else ever felt like they, for lack of a better way to say it, “missed their calling?” Perhaps you were meant to be a nurse, but the sight of blood made you cringe, leading you to become a pastry chef instead. Or you liked painting, so you became an art teacher, but you really were meant to be a librarian. I’m not sure if these examples make sense, but lately I’ve been feeling like I “missed the boat” a long time ago—and I wish I had gotten on when I should have.
Maybe I could chalk this up to having a midlife crisis (if I’m just in midlife now, I’ll live to be 128!), but I’ve been feeling like I’m living the “plan B” God had for me.
From the time I was a kid, I figured I’d study music in college. My older sister did, and she was fabulous at it! I followed in her footsteps by taking piano lessons, starting at age seven. I had all of her old piano books, and I could barely make out the notes through all the gold stars and exuberant comments from her teacher. Whatever instrument she picks up, she plays well. Want to know why? Because she loves music and actually wants to practice! To this day, she is involved in many different music groups. She teaches, she directs, she plays. And she knew she wanted to be a music teacher from a very young age.
And then there’s me. I was an OK piano player. I might have even been considered “good” in my tiny hometown, in my little school. I accompanied the choir on piano. I accompanied everybody when they played their solos once a year at a music event. I played a piano solo for our high school graduation. I knew I didn’t want to be a music teacher, like my sister, and I knew I wasn’t talented enough to become a performer, so I figured I would give this relatively new thing called “Music Therapy” a try. And so I became a music major in college.
That’s when I really found out just how average I was!
Wow! I found myself surrounded by excellent music students from all over Wisconsin and Minnesota. I never felt so fish-out-of-water-ish than that! I noticed right away that my fellow music majors, like my sister, wanted to practice! They wanted to be the best at their particular instrument.
I never felt that.
I practiced. I had to. But just enough not to be horrible. I had to take piano lessons and French horn lessons during my time at college. I knew that if I could get my French horn teacher talking about something, he’d go off on a tangent, and we wouldn’t actually get to my playing. I don’t really enjoy small talk, but if it meant my teacher wouldn’t find out I’d slacked off on practicing again, I could chat like a pro.
And yet, I stuck with that course of study and ended up being a RMT-BC (Registered Music Therapist-Board Certified). Fancy, huh?
I had some really great years being a music therapist; I won’t deny that. And after I had some kids, I stayed at home for a while. I eventually went back to work as a preschool music teacher and a piano teacher. Oh, how I enjoyed the kids! I also helped with children’s choirs in various churches I attended. Wonderful memories.
But.
But what if I had realized back then, when I hated practicing the piano, that I should have done something else? The classes I loved in high school were English classes—from grammar to spelling to reading to Shakespeare to British Literature. Now, those were the things I loved. Where would I be right now if I had followed that path? Would I have become an English teacher? A librarian? Or, dream of all dreams—a writer? I know it’s a futile search, because I can’t go back and change anything.
Like I said, I’ve been feeling lately like I missed the boat. Here I am, almost 65, and I’m just starting a writing “career.” I’ve practically been mad at my beautiful piano that sits in our front room, gathering dust. Why didn’t you tell me 48 years ago that I wasn’t that great? That I should study something else? She doesn’t answer, though—she just sits there looking beautiful and inviting me to play her anyway.
I’ve been on a purging spree in my house lately, and recently I came across a whole basketful of cards and photos from kids—my former piano students and kids that were in the choir I helped direct at my church. They were mostly handmade and decorated with squiggly music notes and backwards treble clefs. Their sentiments, written inside in little kids’ penmanship, made me stop in my tracks and brought tears to my eyes. I had one thought as I read them. One thought chased away the feelings of having taken the wrong path.
What if I had missed all this?
According to some of those kids, I was the best piano teacher ever. And the best choir director. But don’t they realize I’m really not that great? Don’t they know I probably should have been something else?
No. I don’t think they do.
If I had taken any other turns and ended up somewhere else, I would have missed all the time with those precious kids. And, boy, did we have some fun! I remember one day in choir, we moved all the chairs aside, lay on the floor, and sang. I have no idea why I did that, but it sure was fun.
Maybe I did miss a certain boat way back then. Perhaps I am on God’s plan B because I wasn’t listening to Him back then. Maybe I’m getting a very late start on writing, which should have been my plan A. Maybe I won’t have time to get good enough to write a bestseller, starting as late as I have. But even if all those years of “doing music” weren’t what I was meant to do, I sure have some wonderful memories that help me feel better about the path I took.
If you might feel like you’re on God’s plan B for your life, take heart. There’s beauty to be found, no matter what path you’re on. Detours can be lovely.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
Some love I found along the path.