Anna Gilmer

I play in the orchestra at my church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. We have the standard “Stand Up and Greet Someone Around You” time, where all the people who came in late can sneak in and get a seat without being Judged. Our band director and piano player is an incredible musician, and outstanding arranger. He wrote a short, 1-minute interlude piece to play during that time. It started out just the rhythm section, and recently he wrote parts for every individual member of the orchestra. 

For one member of the band, the chart printed wrong. He insisted that since her part was different than any other, he would go up and redo it so that she could play along. Instead of accepting this answer, she kept insisting that she could just play what the person next to her was playing. They went back and forth for a few minutes, him trying to make her comprehend that her part was different than the others, therefore they couldn’t play the same one. But she wanted so bad to play that moment, she was willing to give up the part that was written individually for her, and play someone elses part.

How often do we do that with God? It seems all of your friend’s dreams are coming true. They are married, have children, are doing exactly what they want to do in life. And you have no clue what we want to do. Nothing is working for you. You’re working a dead end job, with no higher education, a relationship that’s going no where, and nothing seems to be working out for you.

So you settle. You pursue that relationship that won’t go anywhere. You continue to work the dead end job because you are afraid of putting yourself out there. You’re reading someone else’s sheet, while the chart God wrote for you is in the copy room, or maybe sitting on the stand in front of you. You have this beautiful life that he has written just for you. All you have to do is ask him what he wants you to play.

I pride myself on being a perfectly unorganized person. If you need proof, just look in my room. I know where everything is, whether it’s in the closet or on the floor. Organization isn’t a priority for me. As far as I recognize. But I’ve noticed something lately. I find myself being unintentionally organized.

Take this blog, for example. Writing a blog is fairly new to me, at least one thats regularly updated and such. But I already, subconsiously or not, have a pattern in my posts. The titles are always started with a “doing” verb. “Coping, Being, Dealing”. I open with a story, a real life example of the point I’m trying to prove. The body of the story is just venting or more examples of what I mean. The part where I try to make a point. and the closing paragraphs are where I try to give the reader something to leave with. A moral, or a heart moment. Usually the part of the post where I’m most vulnerable. Where I put the most out there. I’ve just unintentionally organized this blog.

I volunteer at a hospital every Wednesday afternoon. I sit at a desk for four hours and let the families in and out of a secure area where the babies are born and kept. I’ve realized subtle patterns in what I do there. Every week can be different. But I always use the restroom before I go in the secure area, Then almost exactly two hours into my four hour shift I go downstairs, grab a coke or a water (depending on how healthy I feel that week) use the restroom again, and go back up and finish my last two hours. Then I come down, grab the pizza that comes out every week at 4:15, eat it, then go home. Every week. I’ve just unintentionally organized every Wednesday of my life.

Possibly the reason I try to stay away from organization, is I don’t want to lose the spontanaity of life. Maybe I have this inbred fear that if I plan, or organize, or make everything black and white, the life won’t be near as exciting or wonderful as I always try so hard to make it.

This wasn’t a very momentus post. I am not feeling very “heart-felt” today. I just wanted to write a quick (not very quick, most people probably stopped reading about 5 sentences in) post about how sometimes, organization isn’t always a bad thing, and the expected isn’t always harmful. But too much of a good thing can become a bad thing if we aren’t careful. Bam. That is all.

I have this concept, that I unofficially named the “Boy Scout Complex.” It’s probably best illustrated using a story: I’m in the Civil Air Patrol. For the sake of not running on and on, the best simple explanation I can give is that it’s the Auxiliary of the Air Force that does Search and Rescue missions, and trains cadets to become members of the Armed Forces later in life. We wear the USAF Uniforms, and have the basic structure of the military. 

A few weeks ago we were asked to help do a flag raising ceremony, for their recently erected flag pole. So we showed up bright and early in our Class A’s, feeling proud of the looks we were getting. We looked professional, and were proud of it. All of a sudden I see this White cover get out of the car and stand up: A Marine Staff Sergeant was there to help us raise the flag. It went from “legit, legit, boy scout”. Bam. Boy Scout Complex. That feeling you get when you think you’re cool, until someone way cooler, or more popular, or “better” than you shows up.

pa·tron·ize/ˈpātrəˌnīz/

1. Treat with an apparent kindness that betrays a feeling of superiority.

For somewhat my whole life I’ve really wanted to become a doctor. I watched the surgery channel on TV when I was 3, and used a mirror to watch the doctor put stitches in my head when I was four. It also runs in the family, with 2 sisters-in-law in Medical School, and at least 4 medical professionals in my mothers immediate family. It seems like it’s the natural course for me to take. I’ve spent hours and hours on the internet researching schools, specialties, and employment opportunities. It was my plan, it was what I was ready to do with my life. There’s just one problem: I am horrible at biology. Now, we’re not talking “I want A’s, but I get B’s, I must be terrible.” We’re talking, I just dropped the class. In high school. It doesn’t make sense, and I fear it probably never will. 

But there is one thing that is painfully clear to me. Every human being is born with the desire to be successful. I wanted to be a doctor, and I put so much time and effort into making that dream a reality, and now it seems like it’s all slipping away and falling apart at the seams. Does that mean I failed? No. Does it mean God is trying to point me in a different direction? I think so.

What scares me even more, I’m already coming to terms with the fact that this might not where I’m meant to be. It was such a strong passion, and now I’ve already moved on. Was it real to begin with? My God is the God who gives and takes away. I’m beginning to wonder if he removed the dream as if to say “You’re my child. That’s not where I want you. I want you to be so passionate about the life I have for you, you won’t even remember why you wanted to do all those other things that weren’t for me.”

I have a world of opportunities laid out at my feet, in this very moment. My future is in God’s hands, whether I pursue the medical field or not. My life is his, whether I become a doctor, lawyer, or soldier. 2012 is going to be a year for new opportunities, new horizons, and new dreams. And I know that as I take it on with full strength, my God is holding my hand and guiding my path with every step, and for that I am eternally grateful.