discontented

"I just hate this old purple one!" The seven year old reminded me as she once again tried to fit the "grown up" appearing shoulder rest on her tiny violin. "I can't wait to get a bigger violin!" Her words stomped around the living room three times and then back into my ears before i could think of what to say. "You'll have to be patient," I told her, "Some day very soon, you will be ready for a new violin." She proceeded to carry her sorry attitude to the music stand, and into each painful note of her scales. She slouched like she couldn't hold the violin up with the old shoulder rest. She sat down between songs like she couldn't stand under the intense desire for what was to come. And she wore a frown for the rest of the lesson, like she wouldn't smile until the new violin arrived.

I would have been frustrated. I would have thought, "It's been a long day, she's my last student, and i don't have the energy to deal with this attitude." I would have...if i hadn't identified with her so much.

I've been that little girl. My discontented and childish words have stomped around my heart more than a few times. And i've heard those hard words, "You'll have to be patient."

But, you know? The old purple one works just fine for today. And it doesn't make me slouch, or sit down, or frown...it doesn't even slip off my shoulder.