The Spring of Hope

Araceli has come into her own these past few months.  She is now a calm, confident, organized, creative young woman who seems to have everything under control.  It hasn't always been an easy road, but Araceli is resilient and positive.  Her soul longs to be happy, even when her brain chemistry is saying no to that.  In spite of any emotional roller coaster Ari has to endure, her baseline is happy.  Joyful, even.  That's been her saving grace.

I feel like this is the Year of Araceli.  Things are happenin' for this kid, and it is thrilling to see the person she is becoming.  She was the world's most strong-willed toddler.  Now that iron will has been tempered into determination and ability.

This was Ari and me on our way to her first lesson with the new cello teacher.  His house is so far away, you guys.  I don't even want to admit how far it is.  Nevertheless, we were both full of anticipation at 5:25 in the morning when we embarked on this new adventure.  When my dad heard about this craziness, he said, "Now what was wrong with Mr. Marsden?" I know!  I told my dad we had to search far and wide to find a teacher that would make it worth it to switch.  It's just that Ari needed a shot in the arm.  She needed motivation to take her to the next level, and she could only get that through change.  The lesson was great.  Elliott has a similar teaching style to Mr. Marsden in some ways, so it was very comfortable.  Yet he also does group classes, recitals and pizza parties!  Yep, the Book 5 and above kids have a master class/recital/pizza party once a month.  Doesn't that sound fun!?  I mean, what parent doesn't want to hang out in Cottonwood Heights for 4 hours once a month? 

Not to mention the weekly lessons.  It's going to be so fun.

And then there were Nutcracker auditions.  More about that later, I'm sure.  Bottom line:  Everyone made it except Ari.  No matter what, it's painful when you're not chosen for something.  In fact, I had a friend of mine message me tonight, asking about something I posted a year ago.  She just needed to read it tonight.  Rejection is part of life, but it sure stings when you're going through it.  When we got the Nutcracker results, I was scrolling through the lists as Ari waited for me to spot her name.  I finally had to say, "Ari, I don't think you made it.  I'm so sorry."  The look on her face...I hate that any child ever has to feel like that.  

That night Ari said, "Mom, I'm just not built for ballet."  I told her the truth:  At some level, almost nobody is built for ballet.  Ballet eventually destroys even - or especially - the bodies that ARE made for it.  It's OK that dance doesn't define Ari. She still has every right to enjoy it.  

After the tears were shed, Ari put together a little note and treat for a couple of her friends who also didn't make it.  It's the best way to feel better, I think.  She also posted this lovely, heartbreaking Instagram picture.  Maybe you can read the caption.  It made me sad that Ari depicted herself blurry, in the background, admiring her sister.  At the same time, it made me proud that Ari could think to set aside her own disappointment to compliment Golda.

 Last spring, Ari auditioned for Jack Ashton's orchestras and got into the 2nd level group.  Their first rehearsal was the day after Nutcracker results.  If I was excited before, I was doubly excited about the timing, hoping orchestra would be a fun experience for Ari.

 It was!  The drive to Highland High was in the pouring rain, as if someone were just dumping buckets of water on our car.  I questioned the sanity of taking 3 hours out of our Mondays to drive but one child all the way to Salt Lake for orchestra.  But it's orchestra.  Nothing can deter me.  I'm like the Post Office.  "Neither snow nor rain nor dark of night..."  Never mind that the post office is operating at a loss.  We're going to orchestra no matter what!  (P.S. the Nutcracker part that Ari would have gotten would have rehearsed at the same time as orchestra.  Still, I would have loved an opportunity to work out that conflict!  But...silver linings.)

I know I'm supposed to be talking about Ari here, the actual member of the orchestra.  She liked it, her stand partner was a very cute boy, blah blah blah.  But ME!  I got to sit in the hallway for 90 minutes with all the Asian moms and dads, listening to the 1812 Overture (!!) and Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and that adorable favorite, the Saint Paul Suite.  I could not have felt more content, sitting on the linoleum floor in the high school hallway, peeking in at those standard black chairs, filled with young musicians.  I felt like I was home.

I almost think Ari felt the same way.  At one point in the Mozart, I thought, "Wow, they're really clipping along.  They sound really good for sightreading.  I hope Ari is keeping up."  I peered over the violin section to find her.  She looked up and mouthed the word, "Help!"  But guess what?  She was keeping up just fine.  Or at least she was doing an excellent job of faking, which we all know is the orchestra player's best tool.

Sometimes I think we're all faking it.  We're all just people doing our best, kinda not knowing if it's good enough, kinda thinking it's not.

But sometimes,

it is.