If you know my husband, you know that he is a great educator and a great music director. He has a certain sort of charisma that cannot be taught. And when he was a band director, he was completely invested in his work and it seemed both effortless and joyful. I knew better because as a music educator myself I know the process and I saw the work that he did. It was everything he knew and everything he thought he should be, to be in front of groups and create musical cultures. He was really, really good.
He doesn't do that anymore.
I've been trying to do what I did, before the move. Before cancer. And I may not be doing that anymore either.
The job that I was doing, while it exists for now, doesn't seem to be available to me. There's a connection I'm missing. I don't know the right people, even though I thought for sure that I did. I have to accept that there may not be a place for me as a teacher of orchestra or any other music, in a full-time professional capacity. Maybe I'm just not supposed to be in that spot right now.
Four years ago there were two children--the sick toddler and the raging infant. Now, there are three. The Boy, wise and wonderful warrior survivor; The Bear, the intense and energetic preschooler who was given a chance to be something other than a piece of luggage at doctor and other therapy appointments; and the toddler who is his own sweet person and yet, I get these glimpses of what The Boy might have been like had cancer not stolen toddlerhood from him.
But where I am is working for me. I have taken on part-time religious work, both teaching classes and singing for services, and I am expanding my capabilities in every direction through this work. I am so motivated and excited about it. The teaching is okay but the singing and prayer work for the kids is great fun. And singing for the main services is fulfilling personally and musically. The pianist/organist/music director is such a fine musician, and communication is so easy.
Considering my lukewarm attitude toward religion growing up, it is surprising that I have become so embedded in the culture of a temple.
I was meant to be where I am right now.