My life is full of play. I work as a professional cellist in Pittsburgh, Pa., and my job is to play all day. But the day quickly shifts from playing Bach and Brahms to playing with blocks and bubbles. It’s a drastic transition at times. My play as a musician can be highly meticulous. My play as a mother can be messy, emotional, and silly.

I balance my days as a cellist, a private lesson teacher, and a mom who cares for two incredible daughters. I change the proverbial hats a lot—cellist, teacher, mother. It can feel dizzying. As I wear one, I often consider what I’m missing in the other category of my life. As my children are young, any time I’m away from them feels like a sacrifice. But I’m so grateful that the Lord has equipped and enabled me to have a career in classical music.

I’ve spent countless hours refining my craft. I attended Carnegie Mellon University, earning a bachelor of fine arts in cello performance. I’ve worked my way into orchestras, theater companies, and chamber ensembles. It is enriching work. But striking a balance among all these amazing jobs is a challenge.

Every Child Can

Much of the cello playing I do in a week is in private cello lessons in my home studio. I have a heart for working with students and helping them develop their own love of music. We use instrument learning as a means to aid their growth in diligence, grit, patience, organization, and creativity. I teach using the Suzuki Method, which teaches that “Every Child Can.” My job as their teacher is to make it engaging for their age and stage as well as for how they individually learn.

I have worked with hundreds of cellists over the past 12 years in my studio and previous work in a school. I have the privilege of working alongside families to help their children grow. I have taught some of my current students for 10+ years. That is a long time in the life of a child. I get to watch them develop into outstanding young people, and it’s an honor to be a prominent character in their upbringing.

One of my most extraordinary students is a young boy with limb differences who was adopted from a country on the other side of the world by a single mom. He was born with a left arm that stopped just below the elbow joint and a right hand that had two digits. We worked with the robotics departments at two local universities and a team of prosthetists to create a device that would hold a bow for him. We ordered a cello that was set up in reverse so that he could use his two fingers to play on the fingerboard and bow with his left arm, opposite of a typical setup. This child, even as an eight-year-old, was the most grateful and dedicated student. He loved to make sound. He loved to problem solve. He loved to write his own music. He is graduating high school this year and is still playing his cello.

My first cello teacher told me on our last lesson together that she hoped I would always have music in my life. That is my sincere wish for all those I work with. I think it will be true of this boy. He is a testament to that Suzuki philosophy that every child can. He is an inspiration to me, and I am honored that I was able to help him find a way to enjoy music making. It is hard to step away from my responsibilities at home to teach. But helping students like this one love music is a gratifying payoff.

Bright Stage Lights, Dark Field

I have some colleagues who would never consider stepping back from the pursuit of the best music career for parenthood. There is a culture in the classical music world that honors music as its god. Many have the attitude that if you live for anything else other than elevating the music to the highest possible level, you are not worthy of being there. If you come to rehearsal any less than perfectly prepared, you’re knocking their experience of closeness to their god. You might not be rehired. There is always someone else waiting in the wings who can take your place. I’ve felt judged by colleagues who can’t understand that I have a priority of God and my family above music.

Despite these attitudes, I am trying hard to keep my foot in the door and balance my time at home and my time working. I feel inimitable satisfaction as I play in an ensemble and work with others to cultivate beauty. Music is a very good gift from the Lord. We share these moving experiences together onstage, working to make art. But as I play to honor God, they may be playing for themselves alone. I want to earn their respect as a fellow musician, so I strive toward excellence. This earned respect sometimes gives me an opportunity to show grace, mercy, kindness, and love that they don’t receive from other colleagues. I don’t chastise my stand partner for playing a wrong note. Something so small often stands out in the landscape of pride, criticism, envy, and judgment.

If you’ve never attended a live performance of an orchestra or some other ensemble, go. Even if you think you don’t like classical music, go and watch the people. Watch their passion. Observe their stamina. Consider the years it took for them to play like that. Watch the interplay between players as they communicate without words. As you are listening, pray for them. There are likely unbelievers on that stage who think they are actively experiencing the greatest joy there is to know.

Motherhood

I love playing the cello, but I’m doing it less these days. It is extremely hard to say no to playing opportunities as I prioritize time at home with my one- and two-year-old daughters. My fear is that once I start saying no, they move on to someone else who says yes, and never call me again. I struggle with feeling like I’m giving up the career I fought so hard for. I used to teach about 25 private students and play 3 or 4 different concert programs per month with various professional ensembles. Now I teach about 15 students and play maybe one concert a month, some months without any performing. It’s a huge change.

But the Lord has good plans for me. He gave me two incredibly precious gifts in my children. Raising them in church community has made it possible to work and play outside the home. We have incredible support from many folks in our church who selflessly and regularly babysit a few hours a week so I can teach. We have friends who have extended playdates with our girls so I can go to a midday rehearsal. What a gift to be surrounded by loving people who model Christ to our children.

The balance of working both in and out of the home is hard. I sometimes sacrifice family dinners and bedtime stories. On the other hand, I sacrifice playing opportunities and the chance to fill my cup in that specifically gratifying way. Days are long and exhausting. The work at home is constant and demands all of me. From the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep, there is a task to complete, a young one to comfort, something to clean, cook, or prep. It’s an enormous job that often goes without recognition. Raising children requires a particular kind of patience, and the Lord is still growing me in that area.

In trying to manage it all, the enemy loves to tell me I’m a failure. But my heart soars when I see my children smile and toddle over yelling, “Mama.” It is an immense joy to be present with them every day. I don’t want to miss this sweet and precious time.

I rest in gratitude that all of these responsibilities are gifts. I am blessed with the gift of children. I am blessed with the good gift of playing music. I am blessed that I get to help other people learn to enjoy it, too. Even when it feels sacrificial, it is helpful to turn the posture of my heart back toward thankfulness. I’m looking forward to a time when my children are ready to play instruments for themselves. I can’t wait until we can play music together—a collision of these good gifts from the Lord.