The Rest of My Symphony

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On a recent date night, my guy and I shared the stories of losing our parents. (Yes, I know – not exactly a cheery topic for courtship repartee. That’s one of the things about dating at this age. You’ve got several decades of life experiences to catch each other up on: the good, the sad, the hilarious, the embarrassing . . .)

So yeah, we talked about people dying. And then the next morning, I woke up to one of my favorite weekly emails in my inbox – “The Word Before Work” by Jordan Raynor. I love this guy. He writes about having a spiritual perspective on our work, and this particular email was talking about . . . well, about dying.

In short, sin has ensured that nobody will ever finish the work they envision completing in their lifetime. . . We will all die with unfinished symphonies. Our to-do lists will never be completed. There will always be a gap between what we can imagine accomplishing in this life and what we can actually get done.

Unfinished symphonies . . . what a lovely expression to describe such a frustrating situation. A completed to-do list is a great joy in my life. The idea of dying with things undone makes me twitch.

My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the age of 57, I believe. I’m quite sure there was work he felt called to do that didn’t get done. I know there were conversations we never had that I have longed for, lessons I probably could have learned from him.

Mom left us suddenly at 77 years old. I don’t know what work God had left for her at that point, but I had a four-year-old and a three-day-old on the day she went home to Jesus. I certainly wanted her back here on earth to grandmother my girls.

Unfinished symphonies. At least they looked unfinished to me.

I’m 53, y’all. That sounded darn old at one point in my life, but not today. I’ve got plenty of work left on my to-do list. I suspect there’s a few more plays left in me somewhere . . . maybe even an actual book. Classes to teach. Shows to direct. Books to read. Conversations to enjoy. Hugs and kisses to bestow. Love to give. I mean, I got plans.

But if I’m honest, the stuff I’m most pleased to have spent my time and energy on so far were not plans I had on my agenda thirty years ago. Who’da thought I’d have lived the life I’ve lived? I mean, homeschooling? What?!?? That was the craziest thing I’d ever heard of in 1992.

And writing? Not a chance. It took one snide comment from a high school boyfriend to shut down for years any ambitions I had in that department.

Writing plays? Plays that actually get produced on stage? That are published by a real publisher? That people pay to put on and pay to come see?? Never in my WILDEST dreams.

I’m not composing this symphony, folks. And it’s a good thing, because if I were, I sure wouldn’t have written the movements I’ve already lived – and most of them have been melodic and beautiful. So, I’m not worried about planning the movements still to come or even about the piece ending in the middle of a phrase. I honestly can’t wait to see what God’s got coming for me. His ideas are always better than mine. I stink at writing music anyway.

(I know . . . famous last words . . . )

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