find something

My band teacher my sophomore year in high school was Art Young. 
He was good.  So good, in fact, he actually caused himself to have a stress breakdown
and he had to quit teaching band.

He cared about us too much.  Perhaps that was simultaneously his triumph and his downfall.


Regrettably, I don't remember much about what he taught me about music.  I'm sure it's all there somewhere, in the layers of my musical knowledge that blurs together over the years.  
What I do remember, though, is something I hope to remember my whole life.


As we were learning any new piece, once we had somewhat mastered the technicalities of the music, Mr. Young would always stop us in the middle of class, we'd lay down our instruments, and he'd look at us with his clear gray eyes and he would tell us that now it was time to 
"find something to love...and then love it."  
Simple as that.

And yet it changed our music in ways that endless rehearsals would never be able to.

Although I no longer have specific crescendos, particular chords, or a gentle fine to love,
I've kind of adopted this saying as my motto.

Find something to love and then love it.

Tonight as I was scraping the crusted rice out of the pot, tripping over alphabet fridge magnets strewn across the tile, digging dried wallpaper bits out from under my fingernails, and changing the days fifth sixth dirty diaper, all while Kent is downtown having dinner with the prospective interns for USAA, 
I stopped for a minute,
and I knew that this is my life, and I can find more than plenty of things to love about it.

I love the quiet afternoons on the patio, blowing bubbles (even for the fourth time that day).  
I love sitting on the couch at 4:30, eating goldfish crackers, watching Elmo's World, and cuddling with what has to be the most adorable little boy that ever lived.
I love watching the house slowly fill with the morning sun while we eat cheerios for breakfast.
I love seeing Nicholas's crazy smile as he head-bobs to the radio in the car.
I love being healthy and able to take care of my little family.
I love morning walks and stopping at the park so that Nicholas can practice walking on and off of the little ledge between the cement and the playground bark.
I love how sometimes he is so proud of himself as he practices that he claps so hard he falls over.
I love it when all three of us are home, together, and we just play and play with our baby boy.  We laugh, we laugh a lot.

So while my life isn't perfect, and won't ever be,
at least I know I'll always have that something, whatever it is, to love.