dusty

The bow slid crookedly across the strings creating a tone that was less than desirable. It was obvious that the beginning violinist had not mastered his ability to play his instrument, and the look on his face communicated his disapproval. I stood there watching as he attempted to play the scale I had just taught him. As his teacher, my thoughts would normally have been centered around how I could instruct him to hold his hand correctly, or pull the bow straighter in order to create a purer tone… but in this moment, something caught my attention. It seemed to me that he was trapped in his inabilities. I thought about reminding him that the process of learning to play violin is a long one. He wasn’t going to master it overnight. I felt the need to communicate the fact that the place he found himself in was exactly where he should be. He was learning. He was trying. That’s all I could ask him to do. Recognizing the reality that he was in the beginning of a long journey could quiet his feelings of frustration and also create contentment (and even joy) in the moment. The steps could become more important than the arrival.
And then, before I let the words exit my mouth, I stopped to let their truth sink into my own heart.



“For he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. Psalm 103:14