How It All Started

The Main Deck (the Drum Room is on the left)

It all started in a little room inside an old building on an island not far from the shores of Long Beach, CA.  It was the end of Summer 2006 and I had just up and moved from my third story apartment in Wheaton, Illinois, to a Christian camp on Catalina, where they said they could use some help in the kitchen and where the Pacific Ocean was our front yard.  That little room, later to be known by all who lived on our crevice of the island as 'the drum room', had windows half the size of the walls and a view to explain why. And best of all, inside the window walls there was a shiny red drum set.  This place, Campus by the Sea, was my home for one amazing year and the drum room was where I learned to play.

View from the Drum Room

Not long into my stay at Campus by the Sea, I meandered into the drum room with a couple friends one day. Even though I couldn't play the drums at all, not even a little bit, I liked being there.  We had some guitars in the room and in general there was a very musical feel to it.  And, like I said, the view wasn't too shabby either.  So we fiddled around a little until one of my friends asked me if I wanted to learn a beat.  Um, yes please.  He showed his wife and I a basic quarter note drum beat and it looked so simple, so straight forward, so easy!  Then I sat on the stool and tried it for myself and for the life of me, I could not figure out how to get my hands, legs, and feet to do different things all at the same time.  I was convinced it was impossible.

The Shiny Red Drum Set 

As a last resort, I tried going through the motions in slow motion.  I literally forced my limbs to move at the will of the messages my brain sent them, at the speed of molasses.  This seemed to do the trick.  Soon, my brain and limbs had found their groove (for the pun-lovers).  I could move to make a beat without having to think about it.  Thus ended the peace and quiet of Campus by the Sea.  Technically, I lived in a cottage at the top of the canyon.  But the drum room was my true home. I'd be there after work, before dinner, after dinner, on my days off. In the winter, I was there with frozen fingers, strumming and writing and, with earphones plugged in to my boombox, playing some song on the drums that was light years beyond my skill level.  It didn't matter. It was music. I was playing music.  The reality of that was, to me, more unbelievable than the view.

Photographic Evidence

It's been six years since that first day in the drum room. With the exception of about a year and a half of drumlessness (sad!), I've played regularly since then.  For the past few years, I've played with the worship band at church. There's a verse in Ephesians that talks about God being able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we can ask or think. Well, it's true. My drum story is proof.  I don't know why He did it, but He gave me a gift.  It's a gift I will never ever take for granted.  And this gift He gave me, it's something I can give back to Him.  It's a reciprocal delight.
 

The Story of the Health Class

Here's another story of how God came through for me.

Currently, I'm a couple semesters away from becoming an English teacher.  How I arrived at this point in the first place is a story for another post, but let's just say this adventure was never ever part of my five-year plan, ten-year plan, entire-life plan, etc.  But I'm here nonetheless and, crazy as it sounds hearing myself say (type) this, I'm happy.  So here's my story.

Because of God's amazing provision in the form of the temp job I landed this summer, I'm able to pay for this semester out of pocket via an installment plan.  One of the classes I'm required to take to get my teaching credential is a health class.  The kind school of ed person I talked to at CBU suggested I try to take the class at a community college to save a little money.  Within about 24 hours of registration opening, I signed up for the 8 week, on-line class. Made it onto the waiting list at a local community college.  I felt a little nervous, but hopeful I'd get a spot.

Fast forward a few weeks, I logged onto the community college website to check my waitlist status as I had done so many times before and found out I was no longer registered for the class.  Turns out the automated system had called up my number on a Saturday and I had 24 hours to respond or I'd lose my spot.  I found out on Monday.  My spot was gone.  The next 30-45 minutes rushed by in a whirlwind of panicked emails, a desperate phone call, re-registering for the class, and finally landing back on the waiting list, this time at spot number 19.  The bottom line: I would either have to come up with roughly $1500 to take the class at CBU or hope to take the class in the spring and push back my student teaching, the final step in my credential journey, until next Fall.

Throughout the ordeal, I really desired a different perspective than my typical go-to perspective (fear and worry) for times like these.  I remembered the verse that says "My God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus" (Phil. 4:19).  It just felt like such a loss, though.  I know it was only a class and life would go on if I had to end up postponing my student teaching, but still, I felt sad.  Really sad.

At the same time, I feel like God showed me something extremely valuable during my time of crisis.  When I first made the decision to start down this road to becoming a teacher, I knew I was taking a huge risk.  I hadn't seen any writing on the wall.  I hadn't heard God's still small voice or a voice behind me saying "This is the way, walk in it" (Isa. 30:21).  Sometimes God leads us that way, but sometimes He doesn't.  For me, it was more a matter of setting out all the pieces to the puzzle, the ones I could see, and laying them before Him, choosing His way above all else, and finally, moving forward in my decision.  Since then, I've seen Him provide in such wonderful ways and I've been so encouraged by the time I've spent in classrooms.  It seems like it's where I fit.  But still, every once in a while I wonder if I made the right choice, if God is pleased with me heading down this road, if He will take care of me for the long haul. It wasn't until I came to the end of my rope, that Monday of the Lost Waitlist Position, that I realized I'm not alone in this thing.  He has led me here.  He has taken care of me "all along the way I went until I reached this place" (Deut. 1:31).  And He won't stop now.  That's the truth that brought comfort in my crisis.  It was my need of Him that allowed me to see Him where He has been along--beside me.

But the story doesn't end there.  I came home from work the next day, still struggling with the disappointment of the situation but determined to resign myself to God's faithfulness however it would look, and I found an email in my inbox from the community college health class professor.  I'd emailed her the day before in a panic and got an immediate automated out of office reply saying, in as kind a way as possible, you're out of luck.  This email was different.  She said she understood my predicament, that it happens a lot, and if I didn't mind signing up for a different section of the class that began the day before, she had an add code for me that I could use to register even though the class was full.  I could hardly believe it. Immediately, I whipped out my debit card and grabbed my spot in the class while I had the chance.  When I looked online, the waitlist for that section was just as long, if not longer, than for the other section.  There is no explanation for her generosity and graciousness apart from the hand of God at work in that situation.  He could have provided in a number of ways and I believe that whatever way He chose to provide would have been what's best for me.   But I'm so grateful that He chose to provide in this way. And even more, I'm so grateful that He will continue to walk with me along this road.