Dying Dreams and Renewed Hope

I pulled out my piano teaching supplies for the first time in almost three years and I cried. It was like seeing an old friend as I remembered all the games and activities I used to do with my students and the many books I had collected.

Seeing students light up as they finally grasped a concept, the joy of playing duets together, the silly quotes I collected from young students, and the pride of watching a student conquer another piano level brought much happiness to my life. I taught for seven years and had 30 students I unexpectedly had to leave due to a sudden out-of-state move. The memories of leaving all those students, and the many tears that flowed (both on my part and theirs) are painful.

But the most difficult reality was, because of chronic illness, I became unable to teach again.

Piano was a huge part of my life. I played for close to 20 years and loved teaching. But chronic pain and fatigue significantly impacted my ability to play, as my pain would escalate. I pretty much stopped playing, only pulling it out for particular needs and in very limited capacities. Since then, I’ve often wondered if I would ever teach or really play again.

I had to give up the dream of piano, while at the same time trying to remain hopeful that I would play again. Honestly, it wasn’t a pretty process. I angrily blamed God for a while, questioning why He would take away a gift I had, why He would give me a passion for something and then not enable me to use it. It seemed like the only thing God had done for me was let dream after dream die.

Yet in the midst of my frustrations something came out that I was internally fighting for: entitlement. It is difficult to lose things you love; you will wrestle with it no matter who you are! But I clung to bitterness, thinking I deserved those things and that it was wrong of God to keep them from me.

Unfortunately, it didn’t solve my problem. Clinging to things that were gone only served to make me more frustrated and angry. Yes, it’s ok to wrestle. Yes, it’s good to lament. But we have to take those wrestlings and laments to the Father who knows and understands us fully and cares for us intimately, instead of letting it push us away from Him.

Piano was not the only dream that died over the last few years, but it was a huge one. I’ve been afraid to hope for many things because I’ve felt so discouraged and disappointed by my losses.

If you’re in that season where all your dreams are dying, I empathize with you. It is tremendously hard. But God didn’t allow those things to be taken away because He’s angry with you. He loves you. And in His love, He longs for your holiness. It’s an uncomfortable grace for sure, but a beautiful one. God uses the fire to refine the ugly areas of our hearts and purify us. As we learn to cling to Him in our losses, we can find life and hope, even in the death of a dream. 

And what's amazing is that, in turn, we actually become more useful in the Kingdom. Because we are more gentle, more loving, more patient, more forgiving, more gracious after God has done deep work our hearts. You may think your limitations are only a hindrance, but you may find that the greatest, most impactful ministry flows out of those weaknesses. Don't despise it. God is a redeeming God.

Since I'm finally addressing the root cause of my health issues, chronic Lyme disease and several other infections, I'm hopeful that things will gradually begin to improve, even though it's still up-and-down. So by God’s grace (not my own doing), I began to teach again this week for the first time in three years. I’m fearful because of my weaknesses. Playing the piano still increases my pain, so I don't sit down and play hardly at all. There are days that fatigue and brain fog are hard to push through. Because of my limitations, my teaching will not be exactly the same. There’s also quite an emotional and mental battle with the piano due to losing it for a season.

But I’m going to try. I cannot let my fear keep me from life. I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I may only have 3 students instead of 30, but I will be faithful in doing what I can. And I know God will give me the grace I need for each day.