Prompted By Work

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Today’s post is Part of a 31 Day writing series where I will choose moments from my life and let them be my writing prompt for the day.  I am in office manager mode today getting ready for piano students to show up this afternoon.  I decided to write about our work reality and how God is providing. Click the image for the complete series.




Today is a work day for me and I say that very loosely. Very. Loosely.    I may have mentioned that Mr. Piano recently started a Piano Studio. I am the Office Manager. Pretty much volunteer, but still things have to be organized.

We finally decided in August, after several months of waffling back and forth,  to open our doors beginning in September.  We put an add in the local paper and started a Facebook page.  You can go there and like it if you wish.


It was a slow start with one student, and then a couple weeks ago, we added five more almost all at once.  That was encouraging. Five weeks in and we have six students.  Now, we just need to keep adding. The goal is to eventually have enough students that we can find a studio space separate from our home.  We trust God to provide the students we need and who need us.

We are loving our students and getting to know them.  They have supportive parents which is a blessing.  And they are a bright group.  We are thankful that God is blessing our home business and we are excited to see how he continues to provide.

If you have been reading my blog for awhile, or if you know us, then you know that my husband graduated with his DMA in piano in 2013. When he went back to school, it was to fulfill a dream and also with the goal of pursuing teaching at a University. He has been applying for positions since 2012.  Every door that looked like it might open was abruptly slammed shut.  He also applied for several Minister of Music Positions (this is what he did before going back to school).  Again, every door that looked like it might open was slammed shut.



It is hard not to take a slammed door personal, even when you are doing your best to trust that God has a plan for you that is better than what you can imagine.   It is hard to let go of the dream and trust that God may have other plans or a different timeline. It is hard to wrap your head around the fact that a professional musician can find paid work in a small town.  Paid being the key word.  It is easy to find plenty of volunteer positions.  And volunteering is great and necessary and we want to continue giving back, but if you want to pay your bills you also need a source of income.

All that I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

We realized we we had been putting God in a box, and we finally had to acknowledge that he is the man with the plan.  It is not our decision.  He knows what is best for us now and in the future.  We knew this of course in theory, but still the doubts were looming large. So, we put our faith into action and believed that God would provide work for a professional musician in a small town if we would make ourselves willing and available. It is going to be exciting to see how he provides.

In addition to teaching Mr. Piano also gives concerts in churches (he has openings) and plays for weddings, funerals and other events.  He does music accompaniment at a University in a neighboring town; this winter he will be accompanying the theater department as they perform Cabaret.  He has also been substitute teaching.  His plate is getting full.  It’s piecemeal work that fluctuates rather than a job with certainty but he is using his gifts and we are thankful.

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I have changed the way I pray about the future.  Instead of praying for God to open up a certain type of door for my husband, I have been praying for him to send us the work he has for us to do.  I have been asking him to provide our needs the way he sees fit.  I have been trusting that if our savings runs out before our income catches up that he will still provide all our needs.  He always has.  Why would he stop now.

Today is a day that I wear my office hat and hope that the furnace guy is done soon and I have time to mop the floor before the first student arrives.

Working in Grace,





Prompted By Musical Tables

Today’s post is Part of a 31 Day writing series where I choose moments from my life and let them be my writing prompt for the day. Today, due to the furnace guy being here, things were topsy turvy; well, ok, they have been for awhile now.  In the ensuing scramble to move stuff out of his way, a table came into play, that may find a new home as my worktable.  All the thoughts swirling around prompted me to write a rather long discourse on the history of my various tables.  I apologize in advance if it bores you to tears, but I feel so much better having mentally let go of the disquietude about my tables. This is rather late in the day, but since it is not yet midnight, it is day 7.  For the complete series click the image below.

promptedtowritebanner.2I just finished cleaning fuzz off the top of a table.  Yes, you heard correctly.   Fuzz. From the top of a table.  This table was a yard sale purchase about four years ago. We were in the middle of a remodel and had not yet moved into the little house as we have come to call it.  It was Court Day weekend and the neighbor across the street was getting rid of some of her junk nice things and I immediately spied this table.  I wrangled it from her for twenty bucks.


I put it in the kitchen where it immediately became a work table for the remodel crew. The top was somewhat tacky – bad paint job is my guess.  I didn’t really need the table, especially two years later when I officially moved into the little house with three other tables and promptly added two more.  Long story.  But, it has been a well-known fact in my family for quite some time now that my mom and I have a thing for tables. And chairs. Apparently.

This particular table was finally delegated to the laundry room where it had aspirations of being the folding table.  Ha! Wait for it, you know where this is going, don’t you?  Of course it became the pile table.  Anyway, back to the fuzz.  A couple years ago I purchased a  cheap, plastic, flannel backed (cringe) table cloth on a whim and used it for a while in my kitchen until I tired of it and decided to use it on the table in the laundry room.  Last week, in preparation for the furnace guy coming to work on our heat system, I cleared off the table and removed the cheap, plastic, flannel backed (cringe) table cloth.

This is where things get a little fuzzy.  Yes, the fuzz from the backing on that cheap, plastic, flannel backed (cringe) table cloth had stuck to the tacky finish on that junk table from my neighbor (I don’t have a picture).  I was imagining that it might need a sander taken to it and a fresh paint job.  Then, just today, I got a bright idea. I figured that a sudsy rag and a little elbow grease might just do the trick.  It did.  The table is now fuzz free, sitting in the middle of my bedroom (remember the furnace guy), blocking access to my husbands dresser, waiting to be moved.

Where, you ask? Back to the laundry room?  Oh no, that would be too easy.  I’m thinking by the kitchen window where it will become my new, old, work desk – without the cheap, plastic, flannel backed (cringe) table cloth.  I am trying to figure out all kinds of angles so that I don’t have to paint the tacky top. Stay tuned. My father seems to think that I am on a three week cycle of playing musical tables so, it is of course, possible, that I may decide to sell or take it to storage.


Speaking of, I recently took my big, long, holds lots of stuff, work table to storage because ever since we moved in the new piano, we have had one piece of furniture too many and every time we do a move around, there is always a piece of furniture table that seems to be floating in limbo waiting for a home.

Currently, we have my grandma’s table in the middle of the kitchen, sitting where the center Island table used to be.  The center Island table is by the window, where grandpa’s little desk used to be.  My grandpa’s little desk is now in the little, middle room with the blue ceiling, that was originally going to be my little French dining room. We also have a drop-leaf table, inherited from a family friend, sitting in the little, middle room with the blue ceiling, in the spot where my Grandma’s table used to be, before my husband’s new piano took that space. (you can breathe now)

My grandma’s table in the little, middle room with the blue ceiling -you can see the center Island table in the background. This was BP (before piano).

The piano and the middle room were not getting along for various reasons and much to my profound regret delight, I sacrificed my work room and my aforementioned work table (that has enough leaves to stretch out to 8 or 9 feet) for the greater good – my husband’s need for a piano studio so he could offer piano lessons.

table.3 001I was going to use the drop-leaf table as my new work table in the small, middle room with the blue ceiling.  I was ready to embrace the new space, but alas, the piano studio was apparently not big enough for an office as well, so I found myself, once again sharing a work table with Mr. Piano and then, there was an issue with the drop-leaf leg and one day I found myself working at my kitchen table, surrounded by my office crates, that have still not found a home since the recent studio organization.

Then, on top of that, today, I also found myself surrounded by crates from the utility room (remember the furnace guy) and well, it’s just a little crazy up in here what with tables that need homes and crates that need sorting.


Did I mention that there is also a sweet, little round table, inherited from the same family friend, sitting in the living room (I’ve seriously considered moving  my office in there)?  At one time, before we officially moved to the little house, the sweet, little round table sat (you guessed it) in the little, middle room with the blue ceiling. That room has a serious identity crisis.

The end.

Only, not really.  All of this, to say, that  I am having a crisis of space.   Will the tables shift yet again, so that I can have my own little corner to call my mine?  Stay tuned. The saga of the musical tables will continue. Once I get it all sorted.

Hoping your tables are filled with grace,