From a young age, I aspired to be an “accomplished woman” like the heroines of 19^th century European literature who managed to excel at many disparate talents and interests. I sought to be as well-rounded as humanly possible with as many activities as could fit in a day. I honestly didn’t care about perfection so much as being seen as highly capable at whatever I sought out to do.

In addition to a too lengthy list of hobbies and clubs and sports and organizations and educational pursuits, I joined the orchestra in fifth grade and played through high school. I was decently good enough at sight reading to only have to practice right before seating auditions so I could stay on the first stand. At the end of high school, I was presented with the opportunity to play in college with essentially what was a participation scholarship. Always one to maximize my tuition coverage, I hesitantly said yes—definitely not looking forward to weekly private lessons that would expose my flaws and weaknesses. I frequently cringe when I consider how little I practiced during those years either. I knew my individual efforts were not optimal and I had a nagging feeling that I was not optimizing my own potential, but I shuffled along well enough to continue contributing to the group effort of the orchestra.

After college, my violin was used by my younger sister, which didn’t bother me until it did. I realized in my late-20s that I missed the ability to play corporately. So, on a trip to Nashville in summer 2019, I somewhat spontaneously splurged on a lovely old instrument and outfitted myself properly with a nice bow, beautiful green velvet-lined case, fresh rosin and a sturdy new shoulder rest. At the time, the purchase felt self-indulgent, but I also sensed a bigger purpose in reclaiming the ability to make music for others to enjoy. I also craved the challenge of having to work for something that didn’t come super easily. That fall, I joined a local string ensemble to reacquaint myself with the violin—this time not just to be seen as accomplished, but to invest my time and efforts into something greater than me.

Fast forward to this summer when after a successful season playing again with the string ensemble, I was invited to be a back-fill player with the more prestigious local symphony orchestra. The music was far more difficult than anything I had played since college, and I spent hours practicing in preparation for a holiday weekend of concerts. I made no pretense that I was good enough to join the ranks of those professional musicians and feeling very nervous before the first performance, I humbly prayed that God would multiply my efforts for His glory to be experienced through music. Both concerts went very well, but I still had no ambition to be part of the symphony on a permanent basis. And yet, through a set of circumstances I’ll never understand, I ended up on the roster with the symphony this fall.

This fall, when I absolutely had too many plates spinning. This fall, when I was already feeling raw and vulnerable from promoting a book of my very personal poetry. It was this fall, that playing the violin helped me finally understand that my efforts in life are not really about me.

I don’t want to over-spiritualize playing an instrument, but I do feel like my spiritual health has been positively impacted by the sacrifice and humble surrender I’ve experienced by committing to practice. Working through difficult passages has taught me the value of perseverance. Practicing long movements has helped me develop endurance. Spending time working very specifically on my individual growth has opened my eyes (and ears) to how even if my part is not the most important, it does play an integral role in the collective performance.

Playing the violin has taught me to trust that I am in all the different seats/positions/jobs/roles because there’s purpose in my contributions, regardless of whether I deem myself deserving of the opportunity; that I’ve committed to giving my best efforts and and from there, I’m relying on God to multiply it all.

For as tired as I am heading into the final months of 2025, I’m also super proud of the ways I’ve contributed to beautiful things and super grateful to have been given so many opportunities this year to support other people in their dreams and goals too. It’s amazing how shifting my focus from my own part to how it fits within a greater symphony has not only energized my work but clarified its purpose. In the midst of a very busy year, that has made all the difference in helping me to not just numbly survive, but to actually enjoy the music of life.

Soli deo Gloria