I have a friend. She's been in a dusty closet for several months now...

Cecelia.

Her name is Cecelia.She doesn't talk--not really. I mean, unless you know how to understand the language of music, then you can say that she talks a lot.She's named for the patroness of music, St. Cecilia, who also happens to be my patron saint (Cecilia is my middle name) and of whom I have a relic medal--one of the few I think even exist. There are many reasons why I have a devotion to St. Cecilia, but music wasn't always one of them.
Her story is truly a remarkable one:

It is believed that St. Cecilia was born in the 2nd or 3d century A.D., although the dates of her birth and martyrdom are unknown. A religious romance telling the love story of Saint Cecilia and Valerian appeared in Greece during the 4th century A.D., and there is a biography of St Cecilia dating from the 5th century A.D. She is purported to have been the daughter of a wealthy Roman family, a Christian from birth, who was promised in marriage to a pagan named Valerian. Cecilia, however, had vowed her virginity to God, and wore sackcloth, fasted and prayed in hopes of keeping this promise. Saint Cecilia disclosed her wishes to her husband on their wedding night. She told Valerian that an angel watched over her to guard her purity. He wanted to see the angel, so St. Cecilia sent him to Pope Urban(223-230). Accounts of how and when Valerian saw the angel vary, but one states that he was baptized by the Pope, and, upon his return to Saint Cecilia, they were both given heavenly crowns by an angel. Another version recounts that Tibertius, Valerian's brother, sees the crowns and he too is converted.

Saint Cecilia

This isn't some sentimental blog post about how I'm a natural born musician and music is my passion and I spend so many hours a day mastering a new song that I wrote. This isn't even a blog post about me being really good at music, because I'm not. Quite frankly, I fail at music. I rarely practice and I'm better at composing things than reading notes for songs that already exist. I have little patience for sharps and flats on the piano and most of the time I just play ignoring them, thus messing up the song, and I have no idea what level I am at the piano even though supposedly I've been 'playing' for a few years now and should be at least okay at it.
But tonight...
Cecelia the guitar was a present for my 16th birthday. I'm not really sure why I wanted a guitar because back then I couldn't imagine the thrill of plucking a string and feeling the sound vibrate inside of you. I guess...well, I don't know. I just wanted a guitar. So that's what I got. 
And I've used her on and off to play a few songs I like, mostly Taylor Swift (there was a time that I'd mastered the intro to White Horse but I'm sure I've forgotten it by now. It was a very tentative mastery and right after that is when I had to leave Cecelia to go to Peru.) I tried to learn Miranda Lambert but that was a little too hard. My teacher was youtube, and I had nobody to really assess how I learned and what progress I made, or tell me how I had to improve.
We left to Peru on February because of my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. I had to put Cecelia away. Even though I was never really big on playing music, I felt my heart recoil into itself as I eased her into the guitar case and whispered, "Just for now. See you soon." And I put her in the closet, where she's waited about four months for me to come back.
I've been here for a month but while settling in, had little time to play music. Tonight's when I finally felt done with waiting. I've got a cough, some kind of allergic asthma that I hope will go away when the summer's over. The Band Perry, my new favorites to listen to, made me want to sing. I listened to their beautiful song, Walk Me Down The Middle, and wished so badly that I could sing along. But every time I open my mouth to make a sound, I cough. I can't sing. I needed to make music tonight, though, needed it as badly as I normally have to write.
I could have used the piano, but then I remembered that I still had a friend waiting for me in the closet. So I got Cecelia out.
You know how sometimes you wish there was a soundtrack to your life? Well, as I eased Cecelia out of the guitar case, hearing the sounds of the strings vibrating as they collided with the plastic that confined her for so long, I promise you there was music playing. A soundtrack. And it's something that I could never imagine--the anticipation, the satisfaction, the immense joy that I was getting her out again. I was seeing her again. She wasn't angry, either. She was ready to play music, just like me.
The guitar is probably out of tune--I was never too good at tuning her. I sat down and played, anyway. I played with the capo, putting it on different frets and just plucking strings. Then, when the capo was on the third fret, I plucked out something that almost sounded like a song. And it was pretty. Like I said, the guitar is probably out of tune, but I was actually playing something that sounded like a song and a pretty one. I played the tune over and over.
Since I've no idea how to record guitar notes on sheet music, my only way to not lose the song was recording it. I got out my iPhone and used the Voice Memo app. I set it on a table nearby and talked to the phone and played and wrote a song.
I could share that thing I recorded on here but since the guitar is probably out of tune...I dunno. I'll consider it.
GOD is doing it. He's making me feel like I can do anything. I can write a song. I can run a blog. I can write a book and get it to the top 5 and eventually publish it. I can change opinions with my stories. I can be a good friend and someone that others will look up to, regardless of my weaknesses. I can make a difference.
And I can do anything. I know it. He wants me to say it.
I'm probably not going to start a band or write an album that will top the charts (maybe. Just because I'm not planning on it doesn't mean GOD isn't. I've learned better than to try and map my own life.) But I have art, I have Truth, and even though my hands hurt--even though I hate bedtime because of sleeping with the wrist braces on, and sometimes I can't open a can of soda, and sometimes I wonder if I can truly carry out all these things I'm planning for myself if I can't even write a book as fast as I used to--He keeps sending me things that He wants written.
He wants me to write things.He wants me to say things.He wants me to play the guitar and piano even though I don't follow the rules and I'm bad at it.So I will, and I'll learn to just trust in the LORD because He wouldn't be sending me these things if He didn't know what He was doing. And He's not going to harm me. And everything that happens to me is for my own good.
I need to shut up, stop whining, and just trust.
You know? Lately He's been revealing to me a lot on the subject of love. Not romantic love, but the love we have in our nature. I'll be sharing this as I go. It's liberating.
He has plans for me, even though I can't see them, and I don't believe I can do much with hands that are already hurting after just a blog post. Even though I need sharpening every time I make a difference in this world, because I'm just a really blunt tool. Even though I tend to be narrow-minded and paranoid and way too shy.
Kari Jobe is one of the people who inspire me most. Today on Facebook, she said in a status update:
Sometimes the key to trusting is to just trust.
I want to be like Kari Jobe with my writing. Her album is a blessing and for a long time I listened to it as a lullaby before bed. It was like falling asleep to a prayer. I've yet to find music as beautiful as hers, and I just want her to release a new album already. I want to meet her. I want to ask her so many questions. I want to hear her perform My Beloved live.
Listen to her album. Follow her on Facebook. She deserves more attention, and everyone should feel the blessing of her music.
How do I be like her with writing? How do I use writing in such a gorgeous way to glorify a GOD so beautiful? All my plots I come up with--even the 'religious' ones--fail. They're like matches that are put out by a gust of wind.
I'll just trust. That's what I'll do. If I leave my gifts to GOD, He'll help me.
But prayers would be appreciated. It's easier to say I'll trust, than it is to actually do it...because I'm still human.
Thanks, my friends. ♥