It's a New Year!

 Hello and afternoon to all my beautiful friends!
I know I'm kinda late jumping on the New Year's bandwagon, but regardless of that it's about time that I make a new post about what's been going on and what will be happening in the future, and honestly, what not a better topic to write about than my New Year's resolutions?
I know, I know... resolutions (and everything else in life) take commitment and persistence, however, I really believe I can keep the ball rolling on this one and try to post a little more frequently than I did last year. What makes this idea appealing is the possibility of presenting new content and posts, which I've been stewing on for quite sometime now.
Last year in summary was both crazy and awesome! New dog, two new jobs, new friends, old friends, new experiences, orchestra, and much, much more. It really ended up being a year of New Beginnings for me, and I look forward to 2019 with curiosity and excitement.
So what do I plan on posting about this year?
Mainly, my music.
So many people have encouraged me to blog, teach, podcast, or host what I know about music, what I'm learning, and what improvements I need to make to further explore music and my own musicianship, but honestly up until now, I've never felt qualified to do these things and rightfully so; I've never officially had a student (although I'd taught two children for a limited time), I had never played in an orchestra (til this year), I struggled with limited repertoire to play, my sightreading and music theory was very limited and of course, I was way too inexperienced to teach... all good reasons, right?
Despite these setbacks, on the other hand, I had literally taught myself how to play the guitar and violin without flawed technique, I developed a sensitive ear for music and could play by ear before reading a single note, my teacher of last year brought me up three years in violin technique, I pushed through the tediousness of vibrato exercises, shifting exercises, finger exercises, scales, calloused fingers, harmonics (on both violin and guitar), right hand guitar technique, and the initial but very uncomfortable 4 years of not having a violin shoulder rest. I even pushed through my limits of thinking I was too old to play the violin and too uncoordinated for the guitar but demolished both lies, my sightreading is exceptionally well and I'm actually thriving (not surviving) in an orchestral environment, and the list goes on.
Just writing these few examples opens my eyes to see that I do have a lot to offer, which drives me to this conclusion: the perfect time for me to share all I know will never come. I'll be learning til the day I die, so what's the point in waiting when I can share what I'm learning now?
There is so much to cover and discover, learn and share! I don't have to wait until I have my doctorate's in music, become a certified teacher, be a member of an excellent orchestra or whiz through Paganini to share what I know, there is plenty to share, here and now. There are so many topics to cover, questions to ask! But I want to take you on this journey with me and give you the opportunity to witness my growth as a person and a musician, but this goes both ways!
What are you learning? What are your questions? Where do you find inspiration and where is your call? But most importantly, what is holding you back from pursuing your hopes and dreams? I want to be apart of your lives as much as I want you to be a part of mine, only together can we find a solution to face our limitations and conquer our fears!
So, to A New Year and a new journey, to new ideas and new beliefs, to new relationships and friendships, to new solutions and new aspects, and to the ever renewing love of Messiah and the Father. Let's make this year amazing, let's learn about music together! 

I Am Capable

What to write? I ask myself. My fingers tap impatiently on the keyboard, type a word or two, erase them, then try again. I stare at the screen intently, my mind sorting out the subjects I should write, yet nothing comes to mind.

This small case of writer's block is trivial, for there is more than plenty to write about. My musical progress, Spanish studies; I could even write about writing itself.
But perhaps what hinders me are my doubts in expressing my inner critical thinking, my musical struggles and victories, and mainly, just allowing myself to write what is in me.
The fear of not writing good enough has crippled me in my blogging journey. But it doesn't stop there. The fear of lacking true musicianship, the fear of rejection, and the fear of not measuring up to my expectations have all played a part these last few months, but not anymore.
Last year, I conquered some of my greatest fears. This year, I come to conquer even more.
There are stories that need to be told, music that needs to be heard, art that needs to be seen and felt with the heart. Yahweh gave me my talents for a reason, and I needn't hide them away because I feel amateur in many of them. Yahweh gave me a desire to meet lots of people, but I shouldn't bury that desire for the fear of past experiences repeating. This is a new day, with new people and He assuring me day by day  it's well worth the risk.
We all start somewhere and this is where I'm starting.
To kick the habit of negative thinking, this week I'm gonna call it quits and proclaim in the face of all my fears that I AM CAPABLE.
It's tough breaking old thought patterns, but definitely not impossible. After all, incorporating good thoughts never hurt anyone. Why not dwell on the things that nourish our souls? Driving us to a better future?
This week, Tomorrow, Today... I AM CAPABLE. And what's makes this even better, is that you are too. We are all capable, and we all possess the drive to succeed in anything we set are mind to. We are more than conquers, and we are fearfully and wonderfully made. I am capable, you are capable. We all are.

"Finally brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy- mediate on these things." Philip. 4:8

Have a wonderful feast everyone,
I love you all and pray for you earnestly, stay strong and keep me in your prayers.
-Abbie

Poetry: Reflections from The Rooftoppers

Hello everyone!

Here is a recent poem I wrote based on the novel, 'The Rooftoppers' by Katherine Rundell. For fellow cello lovers, musicians, or just readers in general, it's a fun read with an amazing voice and a keen sense of imagination.You should check it out! Thanks!

above the sleeping city,
atop the rooftops where
a girl looks for her mother
as her cello plays somewhere.

her heart is pounding faster,
her feet can scarce keep pace
the dreams of her existence
were to come now face to face.

perhaps this was the moment,
her body quaked and shivered.
she'd finally meet the woman
who released her to the river.

~Abigail

My Reflections: In the Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day

Life has been busy lately, but I don't think I've enjoyed all its diversity up until now! I can feel myself changing as a new sense of confidence takes on, a new love for learning, and a strange inner thrill to seek adventure and chase the lions in my path. But yet... I also feel trapped; a contrast of doubts bid me to stay confined to what I know, what's safe and sound. But without risks, where would there be adventure? 

These coming months of preparation for the future keep me intrigued and hesitant, but I am determined to pursue what is laid before me... though everything within me screams against it, I will attain my goals, because I'm a lion chaser. 

Tattered: A Short Story Based on True Events

Transformation.

The word frightened me. Never in my whole life had I been so consumed with uncertainty, I was afraid. What would happen to me? What would I become?
I was practically handed over without any emotional attachment, my previous owner gave suggestions on how these strangers could use me.
My white Egyptian cotton surface would be hurled into a mop bucket, polishing and buffing floors. I sorely was dismayed. All because I was tattered in an unseen corner... I was imperfect and useless now, was this my destiny?
I had been so glorious! I had once glowed beneath the winter white comforter in the home of a prominent doctor, but now since I had been tattered, my integrity had been broken, I was ready to except my fate. I deserved nothing better, nothing beautiful could come out of this...
Yet despite my flaws, the strangers were insistent on bringing me home where I could be transformed by a young unknown artisan who could turn me into something interesting...  however even in this, I remained hesitant.
After I had been brought home and thoroughly washed by the seamstress, she laid me out on the dining room table and folded me up neatly, setting me aside in a basket for the day.
The next evening, the girl gingerly lifted me from the confinement and spread me across the wooden surface once again. I didn't know what she had in mind, but somehow I was beginning to trust her.
Her touch was tender and caring. She smoothed me down as she measured me inch by inch, marking me with a pencil lightly and etching out unreadable notes on my pure white surface. I was nervous, but I was okay, everything would be fine... but the horrifying truth lay before me in the grasp of the artisan...

Scissors.

Cold, lifeless stainless steel scissors, blades that could slash me into pieces until I became lint... I watched awestruck as pieces of fabric fell from the table... would anything be left of me?
Moments later I had been divided into 2 sections, with a remainder of another smaller segment, what was the plan? What could she make of 3 pieces of fabric? After I had been cut, she had set me aside a few days to gather some supplies. This is where my story unfolds.
Evening to evening I was pinned, stitched, and re-stitched again. She would sew, then take out, contemplate and take out some more. As days turned into weeks, our bonds were strengthening and a trust was beginning to develop between us. She knew my material, and I knew her guiding hands.
Day by day the fog of her strategy was becoming clear, and the mystery of her genius was beginning to be solved, it was going to be more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. A simple bed sheet seemed trivial compared to the workmanship of her design... I was to become a garment.
There was nothing truly elegant about my cut out, after all I was practically just a three piece gown, but the artisan had transformed me into something beautiful, a flowy elegant work of art!  She swelled with satisfaction, making me feel special and appreciated. My destiny was fulfilled, this was who I would be.
I was taken aback the evening when she took me upstairs into the sewing room, was there something wrong? Was I not yet completed? I would soon discover what she had in mind.

I found myself being stretched tightly across a wooden hoop, securing me down firmly. With my material sprawled atop a coffee table, the artisan sorted through a myriad of colorful floss; greens, pinks, blues, and others were neatly strung beside other coordinating threads.  I was immediately intrigued.
Fetching a small tin container that rattled with small metal objects inside, she afterwards drew me to herself and revealed a thin, sharp, metallic needle from the case; the eye staring at me coldly. Threading some floss through the needle, she licked her lips and positioned me closer to her so she could see the fine lines she had traced on my surface. I braced myself accordingly.
The needle pierced my smooth white material, the pain of knowing how many tiny holes would cover me made me cringe. But immediately following it a silky smooth floss replaced the hole with a colorful string, vibrant and alive. None would ever know that the colorful threads that swirled around me were swallowed within small pricks freckled across pure cotton. The artisan's design was more brilliant than I had ever imagined. And as the weeks passed by and our friendship grew, I was becoming more lovely than ever.
I was being transformed into a masterpiece.

And now here I am... completed. Wrapped closely around my artisan. She wears me about with pride and satisfaction. She has transformed me into the garment I am today. And if I had never ripped in the corner of the seam, I wouldn't have been here at all.
I have met various materials; wool, linen, (even cotton as myself), who come from various places, who had functioned as different things before being brought into the house of the seamstress. They fear the transformation process, claiming that their immediate state is the best there is... and if tattered, they would come to nothing. When they see me they are amazed, claiming me as the most prominent of what the artisan has made. I smile sadly, knowing that they too can be transformed into something astounding.

When I was a bed sheet, I had a happy life. I was pure white, flawless, protected underneath the comforter. I was owned by a doctor with beautiful home. What more could I ever want?
But when I was ripped and brought to house of my maker, I became something much more than a bed sheet. I am now radiant with color, I am wrapped around my maker throughout the day and stopped by crowds to examine her labor. I can feel her heart against me and her hands brush across my surface as they swing on each side. I am no longer hidden beneath a comforter, but outside in the sun! My life is an adventure, colorful and unique.

Just because your tattered, doesn't mean it's over for you.
Just take it from me.