Life after the music
When I was 16 years old, one of my best friends was a guy named Matt. We met in our small-town youth group that same year but were long-lost brothers. We did all of the things that 16-year-old bros do together: hike, commiserate about girl problems, work out, and talk about what we want to be when we grow up. Most folks in our town knew Matt and me for one thing, in particular: we were the music guys.
If there was a guitar around, one of us would be playing it. We lead the singing together for our church youth group and quickly settled into our roles: Matt shredded the lead lines, and I sang and played rhythm guitar.
I remember one night in particular when our church was hosting an overnight youth lock-in. One of the key elements of the night was a 45-minute music set that Matt and I were putting together. We knew we'd have at least 50 kids showing up that night, so we sprung for new guitar strings and everything. Multiple rehearsals with our band. We found a buddy to videotape the whole thing. It. was. on.
Recently, I stumbled across the DVD of that concert in a box in my apartment. We sounded as underwhelming as you might imagine.
For better or worse, both of us have mostly hung up our guitars these days. Matt joined the Air Force and does search and rescue for a living. My career has taken me into pastoral work and higher education. We don't really keep up with each other anymore.
In a lot of ways, I can still hear the music, though. Some days I miss it. It's a back burner hobby for me. I'll fill-in at my church here and there. I can play a few chords in front of a few people and feel better about myself for a bit. Like the degree in music I ended up getting was worth it, or that those first few post-college years of leading music teams for churches was a call and not me chasing after that same ego-buzz my 16-year-old self was after. I'm not so certain about that these days.
I have learned one thing in my journey. It's ok to let go of seemingly vital parts of who you once were. That one thing that defined you in your last season doesn't have to for this one.
It's ok to turn a page.
The next one is blank, and you get to decide what you write down.