Invisible Opportunities

In the mundane,
routine acts of daily life---

going to work, 
pumping gas into the car, 
trying to keep up 
with dishes and laundry---

I forgot that I am continuously
being presented with limitless opportunities:

to be more than I think I am,
to make a greater impact 
than I think I can. 

At times I only see
what appears
to be on the surface:

my job duties seem
to amount to
little more than
teaching scales and harmonies
that only a few students will ever use;
sharing my music
seems to be a meager contribution
that a mere handful of people might benefit from.
 
But then, I am reminded.
And not only reminded---but corrected.

A few weeks ago, I took a small group of students to a local retirement home to lead some music. I had carefully selected songs the residents enjoy and stayed after work to rehearse with those few dedicated students. Our performance was as bumbling as it was sincere, led by four girls in those awkward years of life and a teacher who had adamantly refused to ever participate in any type of public speaking---until being promoted less than a year ago and suddenly pushed far beyond all that felt comfortable.
 
Packing up my gear following our performance, I wondered---as I often do---how much our attempts mattered, if hauling heavy equipment into an assisted living facility so a few young girls could sing and play music really made any positive difference or was even worth the efforts.
 
Then, with a quick glance around, I asked, "Where did Emily go? And Annabelle? Have they already left?"

An adult voice answered, as he helped me roll up cables,"They went with Mrs. Hicks to her room." 

And there they were. Visiting one of the residents in her room. Chatting with her as she showed them old photographs and described how desperately she still missed her husband, who had left this earth many years before. Two girls recognizing, on their own, that performing a few songs was only part of the opportunities they could offer that day.

"She's lonely," they softly explained to me later.

And I realized that those two barely-teenaged girls had instinctively grasped the truth I sometimes forget:

Every moment offers more opportunity---deeper opportunity---than what appears on the surface.

Once again, I am corrected.