Michele Minehart

words & yoga

Month: October 2012 (page 1 of 3)

Flute Soup

I realize I’ve been a bit silent as of late. Truth be told, I’ve been putting my creative energies into other things, though I do hope to rebalance in the near future. This comes on the heels of a time of reflection and decision making, all of which challenged me more than I anticipated. 

This week will be my last week at my current job. I know, my FB friends may whither away in despair without my regular “please don’t be that idiot” resume posts. But I’ve decided that my season with my employer has passed, though it has been a wonderful 5 years. This job has been very, very good to me (and my family, which as grown exponentially since I began there), which made it even more difficult to leave. 
I could do this job for a long, long time. The tasks I’m assigned each week fall within my skill set. I’m paid (more than) a fair wage. I enjoy a level of flexibility and freedom that employees at most other companies only dream of. When I’m honest with myself, I sometimes feel like a spoiled brat for leaving. 
But the truth is, just because I can do this job doesn’t mean I should. Shane Hipps posted on FB not too long ago a quote, “You can use a flute to stir soup, but that’s not what it was made for. What we can do and what we were made for are not always the same.” 
Picture credit: WorshipHouse Media, thanks to a google search of “flute stirring soup.” 
It pretty much stopped me in my tracks and made me consider how I spend my time and energy, both so precious nowadays. It also brought to light that while the flute is stirring soup, it’s not making music. At best attempt, it’s simply blowing bubbles
As long as I continue to give myself to something I can do rather than that which I was made for, my music won’t be heard. And though my music might not be a symphony or concerto or even a one-hit wonder, it is what God needs sung. 
So I ask myself, as I so often do, “What does that look like?” And in the words of the Great David Crowder, I. Don’t. Know. For the moment, it’s picking up a bit of side work for a few businesses I appreciate, working tasks that I enjoy and that hopefully benefit the business. I feel 200% appreciation for those who agreed to let me hang on to their boat while I’m learning to swim in whatever business it is becoming. 
It’s a bit sad for me to close this season, yet exciting to enter a new one. I feel supported, excited and completely aware that I don’t know what’s coming. But I also welcome this new sense of peace amid the uncertainty that I am moving closer toward whatever song it is that God has asked me to play. 
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An annual cry

Thanks, Anna for the picture via FB

The first time I met Vanessa, Wayne introduced me as she was meeting with 3 senior ladies in the foyer of the church. It was the “grief support group.” Later, Vanessa told me that she realized these ladies were lonely and they just needed someone to listen and to bring them together. “I’ve been blessed with the gift of gab,” she’d say. 
So she just made it happen. She told them when they were meeting, picked out a book as the cover for their “purpose” and listened and laughed and I’m sure probably cried with them. She had a son in college, a very busy high school aged daughter and a full time job teaching. With a husband frequently on the road, she had housish duties as well. 
She was busy. But she knew these ladies needed something and though she had no reason to be amid a “grief support” setting, she did it anyway. 
Just a woman who loved God and loved people. She offered a willing ear and loving words. 
I hope to be more like that someday. 
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Happy place, sad day

Yesterday I was talking with a woman at a fall festival where they were giving out numerous fantastic door prizes for the raffle. I had secret dreams that the god of the raffle would bestow upon us the disney trip or the scuut bike. But when you enter your tickets just before the last 10 prizes, your chances aren’t nearly as good. 

This woman’s daughter apparently had been pining at the American Girl doll. However, the winner’s name didn’t match that of this woman’s daughter. “She’ll be heartbroken,” she told me. Ah, yes. The childlike state of wanting something so bad, right now. 
Moments later the daughter arrived in tears. 
“Aww,” I sympathized. “Perhaps something Santa would want to know?”
“Oh, she already has one,” the woman corrected. “It’s just that she sees it down there and, you know. She wants it.” 
This made me terribly, terribly sad. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of fear, perhaps because it revealed my own heart. But I’m sad. For this woman, but mostly for this little girl. 
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