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Liesl Schiavone reflects on the sadness of seeing certain dreams expire, while rejoicing in the reality of the gift of the present.


As usual, summer seems to be moving along faster than any of us hoped. One of the highlights of the summer thus far was a trip to my in-laws' in early July. We spent Independence Day at Chautauqua Institution, a beautiful community on Chautauqua Lake in southwestern New York State. The grounds are beautiful, and the 150-year tradition of education, creativity, and relaxation feels like an escape from the cultural norms of today’s world. 

We donned our red, white, and blue, enjoyed a picnic lunch while listening to the Community Band, and ended our day with a concert by the Chautauqua Pops Orchestra in their 4,000-seat open-air amphitheater. The concert featured a wonderful vocalist. Her resume was as impressive as her powerful voice and she and the maestro put on quite a show. She sang everything from Gershwin to Billy Joel and ended with all the patriotic favorites. Kids danced in the aisles and the audience joined in singing; it was a wonderful evening. 

Our family of eight, plus grandparents, perched ourselves in the first mezzanine on house right and hoped that the toddler and baby would allow us to enjoy the performance. When the vocalist began her first number, my 2-year-old excitedly turned to me and said, “Mommy! She sound like mommy!” 

My heart sank a little. As I sit there with my messy bun, tired arms, and a sore back from my bouncy 8-month-old, I could only imagine the thrill of being on that stage. This woman’s role that night was surely one of my biggest dreams. To sing my heart out in a big venue, backed by a live orchestra. "Who could ask for anything more?" 

 

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Wrestling with my dream and my calling

I remember wrestling with the pursuit of this dream a little in my high school years. I loved the stage — and if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was to sing my heart out. But I knew deep down I wasn’t being called to a life of spotlights and standing ovations. I was being called to a life of service. I knew I would continue singing, but I also knew that motherhood and family life was the loudest call on my heart. 

I pursued my degree in music education and have been blessed to keep steady and fulfilling work in that field. I’ve studied under wonderful teachers and honed my craft. I’ve developed a deep understanding of vocal pedagogy and have sought to pass that onto my students. I’ve served the church as cantor and then director of music ministry, and I’ve built a thriving domestic church in our little house by the bay with my husband and our six children. I’ve used my voice for lullabies and road trip sing-alongs, but also for Sunday Masses and to comfort grieving families as they bury their loved ones. 

We live in a world that shouts “follow your dreams” almost aggressively. The messaging is that if you don’t, you’re throwing your life away. A lack of ambition and grit will leave you empty and boring, resentful of the life you could have had. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is nothing boring about this life I live. And the ambition and grit required to raise kids who love Jesus and know their worth in this world is staggering, and it’s a job I’m honored to do, even on the days when I’m tired to my core. 

 

We're called to our vocation for the good of all

There is nothing wrong with chasing your dreams, but a world full of only people living big dreams would certainly be missing some essential components. Sure, this world needs performers and entertainers, but it also needs teachers and doctors, sanitation and office workers. We’re called to various vocations for the good of the whole of creation. As Saint Paul wrote, 

There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit is given for some benefit. To one is given through the Spirit the expression of wisdom; to another the expression of knowledge according to the same Spirit; to another faith by the same Spirit; to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit; to another mighty deeds; to another prophecy; to another discernment of spirits; to another varieties of tongues; to another interpretation of tongues. But one and the same Spirit produces all of these, distributing them individually to each person as he wishes. (1 Corinthians 12:4-11) 

 

I don’t think many little girls dream of growing up to be a funeral singer, but I can’t help but think that it was an integral part of God’s plan for me when He breathed life into me and gave me this gift. Maybe I won’t use this voice to entertain a crowd of 4,000, but I can use it to enhance the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass on Sundays, and to comfort a weary soul in their moments of grief. I may never get that standing ovation, but I can use this voice to help settle my little ones down to sleep. 

I’ve often commented to my husband that it’s strange that those who are close to me now don’t know me for what I used to be known for, that those I see on a regular basis have never really seen me perform. 

 

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My life isn’t glamorous. There are endless dishes to be done and laundry to be folded; there are lessons to teach and routines to establish. But loving these little people and watching them grow and discover and learn is a constant thrill and my cup overflows with joy and gratitude for the lives that have been entrusted to my care. It isn’t easy, but nothing worth doing really is. 

Surely, there’s a sadness that comes with seeing certain dreams expire (or pause), but there is also great satisfaction in knowing you are right where God wants you to be. 

Don’t let your unrealized dreams distract you from the work God is calling you to today. There may be room for both at some point, and there may not be. All we can do is embrace the loudest call on our hearts today and pray for the strength and courage to follow that call day after day. 

 

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Copyright 2024 Liesl Schiavone
Images: Canva