Kyra Moon

This morning, I woke up to the news that the Logan Tabernacle would be closed in 2021 for renovation. When I drove past it yesterday I suddenly remembered that if not for the pandemic I would have performed there that very day. But instead, my tabernacle performance would have to be put off til next year. Or, as the article reminded me, in a few years after the renovation is done. When it comes to music, I can take rejection and missed opportunities pretty hard. I feel like life is so crazy with young kids that I have to choose my endeavors very carefully. So once I put effort into something I get pretty emotionally invested in it. At least, that's how I have been. But after reading Big Magic I wonder if I should approach things differently. After all, what's the point in creating and performing if most of it makes me sad? There's already plenty of suffering the world and I don't need to add more suffering by feeling upset about being underappreciated. No, as the poet J

When I was in high school, I invited friends to go sledding at a nearby hill. We had a great time for an hour or so and then came in for hot cocoa and rolls. One of my friends realized he needed to get home really soon so he ran out to his car, only to discover he no longer had his keys. They were somewhere in the snow. The sun was beginning to set and the snow was beginning to fall. But what could we do except look for the keys? As I walked through my backyard back up to the hill, I prayed, "Please help us find his keys. Please help us find his keys." Then I had a funny thought. "Oh, and it doesn't have to be me who finds them." Up til that moment, I had wanted to be the one to find the keys and be the hero somehow. But when I added that phrase to my prayer, it finally occurred to me was that the keys were found, not that I  was the one to find them. While the rest of the group headed to the hill to hunt, my friend and I veered off to a different section. There