Envy has been rearing its ugly head in my life for a long time, and somehow I’ve only lately named it so. It isn’t any good. My life is my own, and I’ve no reason to think what comes to another ought to be mine. Really, it simply comes down to trust. Do I trust the story my Lord is writing in my life? Do I trust that what He wishes me to have, I shall have? Do I trust that what I have been given is good? I’m not sure that I do trust, but O! I pray that I will learn to.
I bought an old piano recently. I paid for it with time and muscle and friendship and a nervous drive home behind the pickup truck in rush hour. If I’d not had the friends I do, I couldn’t have got the thing into the bed, much less into my living room. I have good friends. I ought to be more thankful than I am for such friends.
The piano appears to have been made in 1930. It’s an old Hamilton, which was a division of Baldwin, and its rich red mahogany burns like fire in the rays of the setting sun that find their way into our living room every evening. It needs tuning and some love in other areas too, but for all its age and neglect, it really sounds beautiful. I’ve missed the sound of a real piano in my home. This one doesn’t sound quite like the ebony black baby grand that my mom sits at most days, but it reminds me of her anyway. She pushed me to take lessons when I was little, and though I often begrudged it then, these days I wish I had stuck it out and been diligent about practicing. I guess I’ll just have to start up again now.
For so long my hobbies have kept me in front of a computer monitor. Photography and writing are two of my earliest loves, but earlier than that is my love for movement. To run and play and climb trees, to take things apart with my hands, and put them back together. In the last couple of years I’ve rediscovered these old loves, and these days I’m more likely to want to tinker on my old truck or cut a leather collar for a coffee decanter than edit photos. Obviously, I’ve not been spending too much time writing. But I don’t regret it.
Life is better when it’s lived in the real world. I recommend trying it. Step away from the computer or smartphone or tablet, take your shoes off, maybe even your shirt, and sit outside in the sun while you eat dinner. Lay down on the driveway and look up at the stars. My roommate and I did that last night, and for all the lack of sleep, I would do it again. Because the stars remind me that there are bigger things in the world than my ego, or any paycheck I’ll ever receive. There are better things by far beyond me. Yet, somehow … the Greatest of all is within me.
Happy Friday, beloved.