reporting to class

I traversed the halls of the local music college this afternoon, hugging a pile of music while jogging from a rehearsal to a lesson. Students carrying various instruments hustled past me, their rubber soles squeaking loudly on the freshly waxed floors. Bulletin boards were lined with new rehearsal schedules and announcements of upcoming concerts. Professors cheerily greeted me back, as today was the first day of classes since December. A general feeling of goodwill toward mankind pervaded me as a new semester commenced.
Each semester since we moved to the North Country, I weigh afresh the ballast of working outside of the home. My situation is ideal: I say yes to the projects that appeal to me and decline the ones that are demanding without being rewarding. I like the students and the atmosphere. Some of the professors have become good friends; I enjoy their camaraderie. There is usually a nice mix of music on my plate: some pieces are old favorites, others are new challenges. The extra money is definitely a plus. But every minute of commitment takes me away from hearth and home, where my true calling lies. I feel the tug whenever I glance at the industrial clock on the wall, a tug that has been familiar since the babes were in arms. (They are far past that stage, as most of you know.) But when the clock strikes four (or two or six, whatever the case may be) I still make like a bee to the hive.
The gifts and abilities that have been entrusted to me need to sift down into their rightful places, and their places change as the seasons change. At times, the pursuits to which I am called seem better entrusted to someone more qualified! During which times I inform God,"You know what I am really good at? Playing the piano. Can't I do that instead?" Other moments, I seem to coast on wheels down Easy Street. These seasons are welcome, but they can breed an independence in me that isn't healthy. Carrying on without heavenly assistance is a dangerous venture.
Whenever I am brave enough to ask God to stretch me, He always does. I am better for it; more suited for the things He sees down the road. He asks me to lay aside my reliance on natural gifts and talents. He invites me practice reaching heavenward.
No need to check the roster. That class is offered every semester.