Pianissimo

2020 has drawn to a close. 

As I sat and wrote when thirty minutes was all that was left on the clock, I felt the letting go that comes with something coming to a close. The final few soft notes on a rather tempestuous piece of a year. In my piano books, my piano teacher, Ms. Blacklock, would have marked this section with a “PP” or pianissimo. Very soft. The last few seconds of an exhale before a deep inhale as the new year began. 

Within that one day, that one tick of the clock, that one breathe, there lived a range of feeling, not unlike the movement of emotion through a beautiful piano piece. 

I felt sorrow at something coming to a close. I was asking myself “Did I make the most of every moment? Did it reach its potential?” In years past when my self talk was significantly unhealthier, I would ask “Did I get it right? Perfect?”

I felt a sense of accomplishment. We made it through another year, and a tough year at that. We have so much to be proud of, so many blessings lining the rain clouds. I can celebrate the year that was. Because in it we saw God’s loving-kindness. 

There was also trepidation. Always trepidation. “What is coming next? What struggles and trials are around the corner? Will we make it?” Here is where the “What ifs” rule. The battle rages strong.

In the very same breathe, anticipation fights back, invigorated at the white page in front of us, the clean slate, the white empty pages of chapters waiting to be filled. I can celebrate the year coming. because I have faith we will see God’s loving-kindness.

And finally, and perhaps most surprisingly, there lives a healthy dose of indifference. Because tomorrow is just another day. And the next. And the next. And my calling hasn’t changed. My responsibilities haven’t changed. And all that was true today will be true tomorrow. In fact, a lot of what I am feeling hasn’t changed much from last New Years. At the start of 2020, I wrote the following:

“Why do I feel pressure? I think it’s because with New Years comes this narrative that I've picked up from culture and social media that tells me: "You have to come up with a thoughtful and creative resolution that will show that you mostly have life all together and just a few things you need to work on and you've just tied the last year up in a neat little bow and everything is laid out in order for the coming year so that everything goes smoothly and you've got to start the year perfectly or it will wreck the whole year. Oh, and don't forget to post about it on social media so that everyone can see and secretly judge whether or not its good enough." 

The growing, healthy, truth-speaking part of me is pushing back and saying: "Today is just another day. It is a day to wake up and once again thank God for His goodness and love. It is another day to just do the next right thing. Take that next step. Write a little more. Read a little more. Pray more. Love more. And if you don't get it right, tomorrow is a new day. There is grace and mercy for each day. And what you do in secret is more important than what you do in public. So keep going. It is about what you are beholding and who you are becoming."

Which brings me to my one resolution for this year. Are you ready for the transformational word? Just kidding. It’s honestly to just continue what I have been doing, to continue to be a woman who strives to walk in obedience; obedience to the Holy Spirit’s prompting, either for care of others or conviction of the heart, obedience to Jesus’s teachings and truth found in the Word, and obedience to the God who created me, in his image, for his glory. It is to be a willing instrument in the composition he is creating of my life. 

So as we close out one year and begin the next, pianissimo. An exhale, followed by an inhale. And then keep going. 

“To the Rising Sun” by Trygve Torjussen. This was by far my favourite piece to learn and play. While a lot of the pencil marks made by Ms. Blacklock were erased for the piano exam, a few still remain. I wasn’t the best student as I was too immature to value the art of practicing and consistency. But I am eternally grateful for the patience and the lessons I received from Ms. Blacklock each week for much of my adolescence. I’d like to think I am starting now to see the depth of the lessons I learned on the bench of her piano.