I continue to read through old journals in my quest to write “my story.” I am in the midst of my tour journals, which have actually been really fun to read. There are so many stories and details that I wrote down that I had completely forgotten. I keep laughing out loud at some of my stories about the kids, and I keep e-mailing my tour buddy so she can get a laugh out of them too. I told her this morning that it was weird to read through these journals. It’s like reading a novel where you already know the ending but have forgotten all the details.

I am currently approaching the part in the journal where I am asked to leave my first choir and go help start another choir. I remember that heart wrenching decision. I so did not want to leave my current children. The thought of walking away from them tore my heart out. But as I prayed through it, I realized how leaving was exactly what God wanted me to do. I was in the midst of a really awkward situation on my first choir that was not getting any better, despite any efforts on my part. It was taking a lot out of me. Even though I did not want to leave my kids, I was desperate for relief from the pressure of this situation.

Looking back, I am so glad I did go, because I was so abundantly blessed on my 2nd choir. I fell in love with this group of kids too, and had an amazing team of adults to work with. I was able to blossom and be so much more productive on this team. I came out of my shy little shell that I had been forced into on my last choir. I did my job as music supervisor so much more effectively. I am looking forward to reading through all the memories of this choir.

But before I can get there, I have to read through the pages of lamenting and crying I did over leaving my first choir. I have to relive the pain of walking away with tears streaming down my face and sobs wracking my body as some sweet stranger drove me to the airport. (She really was so sweet. I was crying so hard I couldn’t get a word out, and she just hugged me and told me she had only been with the kids for two days and had totally fallen for them. She said she couldn’t imagine leaving them after spending 15 months with them. She handed me a tissue box as we loaded luggage into her car.) That was a tough time. My stomach’s almost knotting up knowing I have to read through this.

What’s funny is that pages before, I wrote about reading Jeremiah 18:1-6.

¹ This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: ² “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” ³ So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. ⁴ But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.

⁵ Then the word of the LORD came to me. ⁶ He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the LORD. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.

A couple of years before that, I had gone to a special guest ministry at my church where a potter created a pot before all of us. He spun it on the wheel and created this beautiful creation. Then he crushed it. And made a new one, even better than the first. In my journal, I reflect back on this, and comment how I felt like that clay. Like God was smashing me and turning me into something more beautiful.

Little did I know how right I was.