Saturday, February 28, 2015

Favors a Challenge

The blog challenge, a contest to blog each day for the month of February, comes to a close tonight.  My capacity to accomplish work never ceases to amaze me, and I'm grateful for the push of the blog challenge to build my capacity of what I can achieve in the realm of blogging.

We had a wonderful party at Sky Zone today, with many, many children; 47.  Thirty families, celebrating 7 years with our Naomi.  Several bubbles of our community came together: school friends, work friends, church friends, neighbor friends.  My sister and brother-in-law even came down with my nieces.   Nora is one of those brilliants who can pull creativity out of thin air, move an army, and whip party favors into shape.  She can do many more things, and is an amazing mother, to boot. 


So, as my final post for the blog challenge, here is the poem that Nora and I wrote, with help from  the peanut gallery (our husbands).  The poem accompanied the favors for the party (which were clearly disjointed until Nora's intervention and plenty of laughs this morning). 

Naomi really wanted to give every kid a sewing kit.  In my effort to not crush her vision, the family basket was an eclectic mix: sewing kit, spatula, whisk, notepad, pencil, eraser, adorable basket with balloon (to simulate a hot air balloon, since the party was at Sky Zone), and this poem.


Bon Voyage, February!

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Black Clouds and Pandemics

Being on-call is like a pandemic in our house.  There is a heated moment when you get to the middle or near-end of a strategy game, especially a game we have, which is actually called Pandemic.  In this game, the world is simulated as having a pandemic outbreak of a disease, and the players are the health team trying to stop the pandemic and find cures. 

We don't have an outbreak of disease in our actual household, thank goodness, we have an outbreak of the beeper going off throughout the night when Mike is on-call. Call days are clearly marked on our calendar.  "CALL" is exactly what I write on the top of each day Mike is on call; I dread it, he dreads it.  But it is a day set aside, part of the gig, and patients do not wait until the glossy hours of 9-5 to get sick, so someone has to be available.  We both know this full well, but this does not go without taking a toll on the household.

As a wife, it is almost impossible to relax until the call has been taken, the husband has recovered, and is awake and fully functional after the whiplash of getting back to daytime has worn off, and after the rehashing of the "black cloud." "Black cloud" is a big buzz word.  Apparently, Mike and his friend Brendon have black clouds that hover over their nights where they are on call, and that is where everyone gets really sick, just for them.  These two special doctors who are victimized by the black cloud, and their very gray skies leak right into the household. 

Brendon's wife and I don't believe in the "black cloud;"  even bringing up the "black cloud" in discussion is not helpful.  They are convinced, at least they say, that they are just going back through the last few calls they had, and "are on a bad streak" or "it only happens to them." As the war stories light up over double dates, I figure, at least they each have someone to bond with about this treacherous thing.

I'm not getting into whether a black cloud exists over these doctors or not.  I think many people believe this phenomenon, many who have thought to themselves:
  • I can't do anything right
  • This always happens to me
  • What is wrong with me that this keeps happening?
  • I must be doing something wrong!
  • Why me?
I will offer some plans and play-outs that may relieve these questions:
  • The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps. Prov 16:9
  • O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
    You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
        you discern my thoughts from afar.
    You search out my path and my lying down
        and are acquainted with all my ways.
    Even before a word is on my tongue,
        behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
    You hem me in, behind and before,
        and lay your hand upon me.
    Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
        it is high; I cannot attain it. Psalm 139:1-6
  •  For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11
  • 31 For who is God, but the Lord?
        And who is a rock, except our God?—
    32 the God who equipped me with strength
        and made my way blameless.
    33 He made my feet like the feet of a deer
        and set me secure on the heights.
    34 He trains my hands for war,
        so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. Psalm 18:31-34
 
What are your own personal black clouds or household pandemics? 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Glorious Gray Hair

There should be a mandate that we speak with people with gray hair frequently, with depth, quality time, and purpose. Of course, I waited until I was 100 miles away from parents and grandparents to ponder what wisdom was said from our family members and friends who have gray hair, and now we are 200 miles away. Please know, I do not intend to say "gray hair" with any kind of degradation, but rather as a compliment, and a position of esteem, knowing that my baselines are: 
Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life. Prov 16:31  
The glory of young men is their strength, but the splendor of old men is their gray hair. Prov 20:29

In a culture where we try to cover up the gray hairs by getting our hair dyed, shaving heads,  putting in highlights, and ripping out the darn crooked coarse strands when they pop up during a quarter-life crisis, there has to be something said for the life learned and the wisdom of experience that comes through the grays. We are also in a culture where we prize self-sufficiency and independence, so much that we have allowed our enabled-self to think we have no need for access wisdom or counsel, so why listen to them? We are fine on our own.  I got this.  I have my friends.  I'm good.

I love to glean from those with gray hair and I (generally) treasure their words.  With 5 words they can say what my 30 year old friends say with 100.   With a few words they can silence a negative thought, calm a situation, and perspective comes quickly.  Although they may sleep more, their fewer hours awake are more productive than my "busy" multiplied hours.  They can read through a situation and thin-slice it, maybe because they lived the amount of time of my life two or three times over.  

How can we impress on the next generation the wisdom stored up in these great minds?  Shall we just tuck the minds away in homes or assisted living and have them "taken care of?" I would give up a lot to have our children be around gray haired people with consistency, especially their great grandparents.   I'm sure it would enhance their lives greatly.   

Have you been caught up in yourself and your own age group to a point where you belittle or tune out the older generations? I would encourage you to listen, ask questions, and seek perspective.  

Perhaps it will help you grow a few of your own little gray darlings.  Now, without vanity speaking, is that what you would want?  

I'm pretty sure I do.  Come on little grays, the tweezers are ready.  Is that vanity speaking? ;-)



Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Moon Face

Welcome to my world.  My face has rounded out rather widely over the last week.  I only took one week off of going to the gym, because of a rapid heart rate and palpitations.  Then lovely side effect of the prednisone moon face has appeared. Chipmunk cheeks, oompa loompa, I'm sure you get the picture. 

I guess it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.  My friend Meghan asked me how I was feeling as David and I rushed in late for gymnastics class.  "Good! Yup, back to my old self of cramming lots of activities in and being late!"  I'm very grateful I'm able to function and take care of things and then some. Let's hope this continuea as I taper down the prednisone.  I know the moon face is a cosmetic thing, and hopefully temporary, but definitely better than not being able to talk and swallow. I know it would be better to stay off of "white" carbohydrates, and was that a slice of pizza I had today?  Yup. 

Just Begin: Well, back to a good routine this week; This was my second day out of four scheduled at the gym.  Kim, one of my trainers, was excellent in reminding me to look ahead and not back.  This is true.  As over-thinking and moon-facing leads to vanity, hopefully this medicine regimen will lead to continued stable health.   I was able to complete my entire routine, including split squats, single arm bench presses, the right amount of band assisted chin ups, and more.

Hoping to keep this up.  Let's look ahead and stop dwelling on the moon face.

Monday, February 23, 2015

A Musical Child's Foundation

David's cello teacher is fantastic.  Barb encompasses many ways I would like to be as a teacher.  One of her best attributes is her ability to analyze how her teaching has worked, how to critically evaluate the results of her method, and how to design and execute a plan to best educate any child as a musician.  Not only that, but she is great with David. He started to read bass clef music today after a few months of flash cards.  Traditional music teachers often argue that Suzuki students cannot read music. Since I started 400+ instrumental music students in this traditional way and I am now intrigued with these different strategies.   

Bottom line without a lot of depth: As parents, we should be playing music for our children all the time.  Classical in the background and Suzuki CDs for their instrument as a habit.  The more they listen, the more they feel and internalize.  Then, whatever level they are playing at, they are able to feel the music and have vision for the end result because they have already internalized it.  Just as we have internalized our native language, we have been hearing it executed accurately since birth, and once we began to talk, we already know what our speaking voice should sound like.  

What do I do in our home?
I usually have WRTI on in the background.  It is a good station because the news comes on every hour, classical music is played 6am-6pm and jazz from 6pm on.  Just as the day's hectic parts wind down to dinner, jazz kicks up the atmosphere to a fun level.  I believe I started this habit when Naomi was a baby.  I doubt that any child with experiences like this will grow to be tone-deaf adults.  David has been listening to the viola Suzuki CD for two years before starting cello (because we listened when Naomi started), and has an incredible sense of pitch and can sing through all of book 1 with silly antics and crazy voices.  Naomi learned to sing in tune within a year of playing viola.

We have a very basic morning routine. Kids: Wake up, get dressed, and play an instrument. Their little brains get moving from the get go and they have ownership over their independence.  The worst is waking up and not knowing what you are supposed to do next, so this just gives a little plan and gets their brains moving.  Not to mention, live music and applause in the morning brightens up the whole house.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Director's Note for a Birthday

When Naomi was born, I was in production of Beauty and the Beast with Marple Newotwn High School.  This was one of my favorite jobs.  I was directing a high school musical and this was my first go at it! When I found out I was pregnant and the show opened a week after my due date, I was even more excited.  Yeah, sounds a bit crazy, but I loved the many aspects of directing a musical and was up for the challenge.  I was fascinated watching the vision of the scenery come to construction, the notes in the score become the characters' thoughts in sound, the lighting and sound cues transform the house into a new world, the moments of "aha!" when students understood their character enough to draw the audience in, and the Disney-cry moments when it really all came together.  We took Naomi to the show when she was a few days old, against medical advice but with plenty of drugs.  I could not tolerate not being there and at least catching a glimpse of what it could all look like.  It was excellent. Standing ovation. Full house. Energy and life. 

My director's note usually gleans from life-truths that are found within the script, and even today we listened to the score of Disney's Beauty and the Beast and Seussical the Musical.  All four of us enjoy singing along.  Mike takes on "If I Can't Love Her" with all heart and I can't help but sing along with Belle in her many glorious moments.  Amazing Mayzie and Amazing Gertrude are completely fun for me to sing, and I love especially "All for You." 

So, today on Naomi's 7th birthday, I will offer a director's note for a birthday: 

We teach her to find the beauty within herself and her others.  We teach her to work hard and lead her through routines that will set a foundation for her days. We encourage her ideas and creativity and remind her of her beautiful mind.  That she was created with exceptional gifts, unique only to her and to no one else in the universe.  Likewise, each of her friends and her brother, and each of them have gifts unique to themselves.  In light of that, comparing herself to her friends or brother is not necessary or helpful because she was not created or made in light of them, or with them in mind.  She was created uniquely, to fulfill the purposes that God has intended for her life. As she has Psalm 139 memorized, she can glean from the truths that she is fearfully and wonderfully made with a knowledge so high that it is unattainable. 

I would hope that from Mayzie she would learn to follow through on responsibilities and refrain from flaunting her tail.  From Gertrude, that she would be content in the way she was created and from the Cat in the Hat remind herself frequently, how lucky she is.  From Gaston, to turn away from arrogant men and that a hostile person produces strife.  From Lumiere and Cogsworth to be hospitable and timely.  From Mrs. Potts to love even the chips in the ones she cares for.  From Belle that she would not be deceived with appearances and look to the beauty in all those she encounters.  From Jojo, that she would know her dreams and follow them, having confidence in her ideas even when others do not. From Horton, how to protect and nurture, and stand up for what is right.  From the music and scores, how the soul can be touched on earth.  From directors and teachers, that following authority is a good thing.  From singing, that she can be released from earthly stresses.  From singing, that she would commune with God and know that she joins angel voices when she sings, for there is great singing and music in heaven.

Happy Birthday, Nomi!  Break a leg. We love you!

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Twenty-Something Dream Jobs

What's your dream job? I have asked this question many times among twenty-somethings, and love the responses.  Sometimes saddened by the lack of response, but when pushed just a tad usually twenty-somethings open up to perfect strangers about what their dream job is better than to their own parents.

We just got home from the American Heart Association Capital Area Heart Ball, raising money for research in heart and stroke care.  We sat around a table with doctors and bankers and enjoyed everyone's company and stories.   My radar went to the sad eyes of the banker parents of their twenty-something year old children, where two out of the four children are heading to California to "find their life." Not bad, just different from the college-job-live track, and it is obviously bothering the parents.  The college-job-live track is a hot topic in our household and breathes insight to flaws in mainstream American education.

But it is just funny to me, because I picked up a book in the library this week, "Should I Do What I Love? (or do what I do-so I can do what I love on the side)".  I haven't read it yet so I cannot defend or deny its integrity, but I was intrigued with the title and outline. I actually grabbed the book so I would know how to respond when the twenty-somethings tell me their dream job, perhaps lend a story or hand them a copy of the book if it turns out to be an inspiring read. To my surprise, chapters named "The Aspiring Gamer" and "The Aspiring Rock Star" hit our home!

One of the bankers said he just met Walter Scheib, executive chef from the Clinton administration.  That he basically worked as a cook and worked his way to executive chef, and Hilary Clinton found him at a resort and was so impressed with his work that she brought him to the white house.  Working your way up to the top on your own, along with the sacrifices held within the work, is a far thought from many American college students.  Sucked into a trap of needing to name and claim a major and get trained does not always come with gold-star job in the end.  So we went in and out of the typical stories of how after two degrees, someone goes to bartender school and makes more money than what the degrees trained for.  Nothing wrong with being a bartender, but you certainly don't need a college degree to do so!

I can say the conversations were very timely, and the best speaker was the heart attack survivor who gave his story after having a VF arrest while jogging with his 7 month old son.  Now his 7 year old son and family have their dad and husband back, and he is counting his days with gratefulness rather than his years in success.

What is your definition of success?  And what is your dream job? 

Friday, February 20, 2015

Water Strength Supplied

I washed my face this morning with a warm comfortable stream of water as the bustle of the morning buzzed on, and my phone distracted me with plans of the day and weekend.  It's so good to be back in the swing of life, talking, eating, going out with friends, and managing the household.  Albeit brief so far, I'll take it, this feels like a vacation from Myasthenia Gravis.  Let's hope this continues.
 
I'm on a medical plan to taper down the prednisone, so tomorrow I will be down to 20 mg daily.  I'm pretty excited about this, and hoping that as the artificial sense of energy I have had from the 40mg and 30 mg dosages will not pull me into lethargy.  I hope many other things, like that talking and swallowing continue to go well and that I can keep up parenting and living well, in whatever form it takes over the next season.  As I focus on each new day, the Myasthenia Gravis I am fighting takes a little more of a back-seat and I get a little more out of my days.  

As I start to get more of life back, I need to be careful not to hunger for more activities and projects.  Am I living less of a life because I set out in September with a completely different trajectory than I am executing now?  Absolutely not.  Did I live less of a life in December and January when I could barely talk and swallow, just trying to exist and understand how to treat the disease properly, with glimmers of hope to get better? Am I living more now that I am accomplishing more? Absolutely not.

The days of not talking meant more listening, more contemplating, more bonding with family and friends who came along side of me.  More connections made and a growing awareness of who prays and the Lord who sustains.  It is a first hand account of 2 Corinthians 12:10, For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.


After I washed my face this morning, the water was shut off.  I immediately thought our pipes froze since we are in the heat of an arctic air mass hovering over our area.   Thank goodness we know our neighbors well, because within 20 minutes I was able to find out that a water-main break effected our neighborhood.  Our master plumber came arrived within 10 minutes to check on the scene and our fantastic cleaning crew was here and joyfully made due without water.  I used a few buckets to scoop up some snow to use for cleaning and went on with the days plans. 

By this evening, the water is brown.  It is working but it is brown.  High pressure and brown.  Habitually, I spin on the faucet, fully expectant of fresh clean water to flow, but as I turn on my faucets and have activities flowing through our calendar and social outings peppering our days, I pray my contentment exist as I am ready for action, not necessarily in action. 

Let's not settle for high-pressure-brown-water days as a surrogate for the fantastic learning and strength that comes in times of weakness.    


Thursday, February 19, 2015

Ornate Dark Chocolate with Raspberries

The amount of adjectives accompanying my raspberry dark chocolate bar is astounding. Organic, fair traded, sustainably sourced, supports the protection of endangered species, non-GMO, and a few other engaging descriptions. I'm glad I left the wrapper downstairs to limit my eating to a fraction of the perfectly-made thing, and limit my thinking as to how righteous I am to buy such a perfectly-cultivated strip of decadence. As the three squares rest along my wine glass, I grab the computer and hear my dear little David.  Okay, this will have to wait, he is sick and I need to tend to him. 

The illusion and delusion that I am doing something perfectly or righteously gets me every time. I know a bit of scripture and a bit of doctrine, a bit of common sense and a bit of wisdom, and am content to pray within my days and moments to learn more in due time. I'm deceived into seeing perfection by looking at wrappers and descriptions, status posts and pins, and usually fascinated with the ability to scroll on, and on, and on. 

I really like having all of this information at my thumb-tips but try to limit it at the same time because I become disengaged from the people around me once I get really sucked in.  My own mother asked me a question three times, and I was so engrossed in an unrelated status update from a group on Facebook, that I ignored her! Ugh! How could I be so engrossed in a little piece of technology showing me what perfect strangers are up to and ignore my own mother?

And yet, I continue.  My eyes glue to the screens, wanting more and fascinated with more icons and pics and wonderful ideas.  Inspirational writings from really great people right within my access.  I could not possibly be lonely with all this information.  How could I possibly be less than perfect with all of this information?

Naomi asked at breakfast the other day, in a rather upset voice, "Why does the sun keep moving!?"  Breakfast was taking so long, that the beams of sun followed her a quarter ways around the table, and the sun was in her eyes, so she kept moving around the table. "Maybe the sun keeps moving because the world revolves around it, and it doesn't revolve around you," I replied. Just the words I needed for myself.  Maybe I'm less than perfect because the world does not revolve around me. Aha!

As we press on with excellence, "Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you." Prov 4:25 Let's glance to the left and right and glean encouragement and inspiration, but press on looking directly forward.  Ideally, "looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." Heb 12:2

Kids get sick and we have to put off the wine and fine chocolate.  And although our wrappers are screaming perfection, within the imperfect execution of our tending to our families, our faith is being authored and perfected.  I'm glad the sun keeps moving under His jurisdiction. 

Must be part of His perfect plan.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Just Begin

Today I bought a dress for our black tie event this weekend and buzzed around town shopping.  This week feels like a true doctor's wife week.  Mike had a media interview today and was quoted for an international press release, has community teaching tomorrow, a farewell party for colleague and fundraiser this weekend.  I'm going through lists of outfits and social graces necessary for both of us to attend everything with excellence and intentionally prioritize our precious family time in between. The mornings of bustling for an hour before school never lend themselves to visions that I would be sitting around a table the said evening, smiling like life is always a black-tie affair.

So, this happened last Friday:  The kids and I both work up late, I ended up losing my cool in a far-less-than-beautiful way, and Mike walked in from the gym around 6:40am to an awesome family explosion.  Great.  Have a great day and go stick your tools in some hearts without worrying about my emotional antics, sweetie!  I'm fine!  Really.  Totally.  Grrr.

Did you ever ask someone a question, and the amount of delay in which they respond to you is evidence that the response had to weave itself through thick matter to get out of their mouth to your ears? This is how that Friday went, like sticking your hand deep in a jumbled bag of knickknacks just to pull out out some prized diamond at the bottom.  That's the illusion I had of going from Friday morning at 6:40 to Friday evening at 6:40.  Feeling like: there is no way on God's green earth that I would look - or feel- put-together sitting around a table with his colleagues and their spouses.   Well, it happened.  We entered the cocktail hour around 6:40 that evening, looking dapper and sipping our drinks. All smiles around the table and, really, good company with some totally normal people.

So my advice to myself was to "just begin." There was a blank canvas in front of me, or a jumbled purse, and I should just begin. Forget any condemnation of not planning or mapping out the most efficient route for errands, that will come. But rather than overthinking anything: Get hair done. Get outfits purchased and pressed.  Do makeup.  Sit and take some time to breathe. Pray for Mike and the end of his day, his final patient interactions before the weekend, for healing for his patients. Put the babysitter in charge of dinner and give her full reign to put a movie on and make it a fun night for the kids, it is Friday after all!  I hug and kiss the kiddies, smooch them with lip gloss, find my good purse, forget wallet, and go!   Resisting facebook on the way to the event.  Take time to connect with him.  The double week is over.  The call weekend is over. This kicks off our four day weekend.  Just begin.

And we began.  We had a chilly and heartwarming ride over to the country club in the '99 Honda Accord.  We connected with parents in our kid's piano studio and families that live right near us.  Finally, the night was a diamond in the sludge of our busy schedules and a time to really connect with others.  The wives did not talk about glamour, vacations, and shopping, we talked about the disgusting finds in the back of our mini-vans.  I still think that the plastic snake tongue in the seat-belt buckle takes the cake, credit to our mini-van! I guess we talked about vacations a little bit, but not to an obsessive level that one may think.  :-) As we all departed ways, we all got home and paid our babysitters and headed back into casual life: real life, all with blank canvases ahead of us.

Where will you begin? 

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Phileo: A Love that Doesn't Melt

I walked along our 14˚F fluffy snowy driveway amidst the scent of skunk and through the damp garage into our warm home.  I closed the garage door and could tell that Mike's game was not going well.  I would normally approach Mike's weekly Dominion match with hesitation, nervous if he was upset about the outcome or not, but this time I was just interested in the game.  "Hey sweets, how's the game going? Can I pour you a drink?" I asked.  The poor thing did not sound good, but was not unraveled.   For the first time in a while I was inspired to care about the game just because he cared about it. Perhaps some of my notes from the women's meeting tonight helped.  A lot.

This evening, our senior pastor's wife, Beth, gave a wonderful outline and teaching.  It was not a tip sheet on how to be a better wife or how-to book on marriage, but a reflective and factual account of what loving our husbands means.  I love Carolyn Mahaney's book, Feminine Appeal, and you may know my obsession with Musical Theater, so I will begin with one of Beth's examples of from Carolyn's book, reflecting on a definition of love from Fiddler on the Roof.


This definition of love is more of what we do, rather than this definition of the love, in the context of loving our neighbor, our closest being spouse.  Although touching and memorable, this is not the love as described in Titus 2:1-5, referencing the love a wife would have for her husband and it is not the love described in our call to "love your neighbor as yourself," from Luke 10:27.  The love in these verses is from the Greek, Phileo, is defined as: warm, tender, compassionate, heartfelt affection as for a dear friend; enjoyment, being fond of someone

There is plenty of challenge right in there.  It is easy to sit back and see all the ways you serve your spouse or neighbor, and point at those acts as versions of love.  And they are versions of love, acts of kindness and wonderful ways to serve!  But the love that comes from deep within the heart is a deep felt fondness, that cannot begin with our actions.  It comes from a current good-standing relationship with the God of the universe, knowing that first I was loved, when I was an enemy of God.   And now, out of my gratitude of being rescued from my own defiance, I am able to have an outpouring of love that is tender, compassionate, and heartfelt without being fake.  

The snow will eventually melt off of our driveway and the garage will warm with new birdseed and garden supplies come spring.  Eventually my good deeds of servitude to my husband will fail as I may be too tired to accomplish.  One day I will not have strength to make Mike his favorite breakfast sandwich or coffee, but when my strength fails in frail moments of health or old age, I will pray that I continue to desire to cultivate the Phileo love.  And ask God for the desire to continue to grow.  

Monday, February 16, 2015

Foodie Insight

When I taught high school orchestra, I used to have my students name a food, and then I would give them an analogy of how to play a section of music, in the description of the food they named.  One day they said, "pickle." We were practicing a watered-down version of Beethoven's Egmont Overture, and I alluded to the grit in the crunch that I need to hear in their accents and the friction of their bows on the strings.  The pickle snaps briskly and would be less desirable if it had no crunch and a soggy version of al dente.  I should hear the sour sorrow within the dark melodic lines and the refreshment of the bright green flavor as it cuts through the heaviness of the sandwich it accompanies.  I sometimes call this "psycho-babble", but as they would try to stump me with different foods that would seemingly make no sense to them about relating to the music, we would come up with something witty, and often their own ideas would add more than I ever could, erupt into laughter, and suddenly they cared about the sounds they made with their instruments.


 

Yesterday, in a surreal way, I got to connect briefly with my friend Christine and her beautiful family.  I haven't seen her since the summer. We stopped by her house on our way back from NJ and she graciously and joyfully opened her home and table for us to eat our Lebanese food for dinner, and the our kids filled the living area with laughter, running, and a fun friend for Curtis for a good hour. Christine is an elementary school guidance counselor, a constant learner, prayer warrior, and battery re-charger; she inspires me whenever she texts and calls me a handful of times a year, always in absolutely perfect timing.  We had a great conversation about leading children.  I would say, "Naomi, eat your hummus, 5 more bites," and Christine would say, "Hey, how's the hummus, Naomi?" Then Naomi would take a bite joyfully with chewing smile and I get rolling eyes or a gritty stare.  Grr...

Getting kids to care about what they are doing and how they are doing it is an art within itself.  You would think that I could handle this with my own children, if I excelled at psycho-babbling a room of 100 high school students and have a decent product of music at the end, with most caring about the music--not just the notes.

Mike and I are realizing that we are constantly teaching our own children things that we are trying to understand and excel at individually.  I could have eaten my words when I said to Mike, "Naomi needs to learn not to believe everything everybody says, her friend said 'below' was two words, right before the spelling test, and she knew it was one, but because 'so and so said!' she thinks it's true and got it wrong on the test!"  We basically both busted out laughing because of recent incidents where I believed individuals who just flat out lie and deceive.  It was the best way to learn: speaking the truth to myself but starting the statement like it was for someone else.

About 5 years ago, Christine gave me socks that say "you're the cheese to my macaroni." Her and I used to exchange fun presents, where we would bust out laughing, and then we would go out for dinner or something.  Sounds totally silly, but we really do need excellent friends when our pasta is boring and our sorrow needs a tangible sour taste to thoroughly understand its depth.  

I'm a huge fan of this excerpt:

Get wisdom; get insight;
  do not forget, and do not turn away from the words of my mouth.
 Do not forsake her, and she will keep you;
  love her, and she will guard you.
 The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom,
  and whatever you get, get insight.
 Prize her highly, and she will exalt you;
  she will honor you if you embrace her.
 She will place on your head a graceful garland;
  she will bestow on you a beautiful crown.” Proverbs 4:5-9 ESV

 How can you inspire others and yourself with the humble insight of a foodie?

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Birthdays and Days

I love birthdays.  I like huge parties with lots of candles and mess. Surprises, and letting the kids cut their own lopsided slices of cake with family banter and lifelong jokes and stories.  I like sensing love in its many forms.

Growing up, some of the most memorable times were getting together with cousins for birthdays. It was calming for me, as a child, to hear the adults laughing and enjoying movies in the background while we went outside to play manhunt or stay in and play sardines. Pinochle and movies, laughing and tons of snacks always left smiles and good memories.   I really want our kids to experience this kind of memory when they are older.  

I'm reflecting on two pieces today.  One is a quote from Mark Twain, and one is a song from Jekyll and Hyde. 

The quote by Mark Twain:
The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.

A New Life, from Jekyll & Hyde performed by Linda Eder, composed by her husband Frank Wildhorn:



I'd like to combine the two.  The final lyric of "A New Life" is "each day's a brand new life."

As we are peppered or saturated with the news of the world falling apart, peppered or saturated with our own festivities and our own woes, and peppered or saturated with dreams for ourselves and our children, lets be encouraged that "each day's a brand new life" and could be the day "you find out why." 

It is possible, if the sun rises before us in the east tomorrow.  As the dawn comes, may your new life begin, too.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

My Valentine

My Valentine loves games, winning and understanding me.
He loves to hear the sound of my voice.
He reminds me how refreshed he is to hear me speak again.
He kindly leads our children with firm and fair words, boundaries and occasional treats;
Lots of giggles, fun tackles, the bucking yak, and roller coasters.
We fight and have conflict
But not without a quest to understand each other better.
He sees my tired eyes and directs me to rest in perfect timing.
He knows my giftings well. 
He looks well to my ways and the ways of our household.
He protects my heart from words that are not true, no matter who says them.
He speaks truth to me and weeds out false teaching.
When I dwell on folly, he fills me with solid teaching and wisdom.
He reminds me of what I have accomplished and what I am capable of doing.
He commends me on the work I execute.

He is an exceptional teacher,
Making the complex simple.
Leading lab staff through human hearts
And physician support staff through charts.
He leads patients into better health
And heartbeats to better rhythms.

He's got this heart and I'm grateful to relay:

Sweets,

Thanks for a fantastic 16th Valentine's Day.  I totally love you.

Jo

P.S. Thanks for proofreading my shoddy grammar and spelling so consistently. Surprise!

Friday, February 13, 2015

Keep Your Heart

I had the lovely experience of a 24 hour heart Holter monitor yesterday and today.  Thankfully, the results are normal, I have no arrhythmias, which is a pretty big deal when you're married to an electrophysiologist.  Even better, I can start slowly tapering down the prednisone.

It really was not a big deal to wear the monitor.  Six stickers on your chest reading the heart from different angles are wired to a little beeper-like box.  I had an activity journal to keep, and documented sleep, activities and any "episodes."  The push for the heart monitor came because yesterday was the 8th day or so that I have had rapid heartbeat experiences, feeling as if my heart is thumping out of my chest.  Daily, it had gotten progressively worse, and flared up while I was either eating or if any kind of excitement escalated.  During my warm up at the gym yesterday, my heart rate suddenly jumped up, and after a text to Mike, had me in the doctor's office getting the stickers on in no time.

"The heart is so innervated," Mike said earlier, "as in, connected by nerves."

Really.

This vividly reminds me of my post,  Unplugged, from back in October.  At least this time, I didn't have a team of nurses running in every time I thought of something that increased my heart rate.

So,  I can hopefully chalk up these episodes with my heart to the amount of prednisone I am taking.   If I taper completely off of the prednisone, as my neurologist mentioned, we will know it is the cellcept that is the culprit of the palpitations.  My hope is that now as I begin to wean down I will continue to be stable with swallowing and speaking, hoping my background cellcept can keep the harmony going.

So as your nerves are shot or as your own versions of prednisone "up your heart rate" and drive you into a tizzy, I would encourage you to "keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life." Prov 4:23.

 On this eve of Valentine's Day, may your heart beat steadily and calmly.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

The Dragon and the Stop Signs

The warmth in my tea mug barely exists.  I stepped away too long from the heat of my Tazo cinnamon sweet spice tea in my over-sized Caribbean Sea mug.

Did you ever get caught up in active thought and social media? The seconds tick on without the thought of a minute, and before my first agenda item, which was to check the news, I ended up sending 3 emails, checking Etsy for artwork, googling our Facebook name, and a few other things I can't even remember.  Before I knew it, my tea had the warmth sucked out of it and I didn't even check the news, which was my reason for picking up my phone and standing in one place with poor posture to get all of that "accomplished."

I'll tap into a little story that David told us on the way to viola group class.  The kids were taking turns making up stories.  His went like this, "Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a dragon, and he was spitting out stops signs, and there was a stop sign, and another stop sign, and another stop sign, and another stop sign, and another stop sign, And then he went around and ate up all the stop signs. The end." We all cracked up laughing.

Could I possibly glean some truth from this little story? With a spinning mind and resources at my fingertips, it is very easy to get many things done but not-great things accomplished.  Self care needs to be my main priority and instead of stop signs I am giving myself green lights.  You have energy now, go on! Keep searching for that oil that will prevent grinding teeth and the ones for varicose veins for your friend.  If you were up on the international news, maybe it would help relate to others.  Hey, what about that spot over the couch where there needs to be art? And didn't so and so want you to send them a link to that YouTube video? Stop!

There comes a point where we need a little dragon or guardian angel to spit out some stop signs along our way.

I appreciate Solomon's gift of wisdom:
22 What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart with which he toils beneath the sun? 23 For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. This also is vanity.

24 There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, 25 for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment? 26 For to the one who pleases him God has given wisdom and knowledge and joy, but to the sinner he has given the business of gathering and collecting, only to give to one who pleases God. This also is vanity and a striving after wind. Ecclesiastes 2:22-26

What does "stop" mean to you? Join me in a cup of hot tea, and tell me all about it.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Healing Waters

The river, just a few miles to our west, is half frozen, somewhat snow-clogged, and has a partial water stream sporadically running through its center.  Front Street runs south along the river's east side, and I love the switch from glistening snow, to glistening river, to baby mountains of ice interposed as I drive southbound. It's still a river, just in different forms.  It still needs the 6 1/2 bridges sprinkled between the two shores.

Yesterday, I brought our children to our pediatrician not only for a well appointment, but also to pick our doctor's brain about what has been going on with Naomi.  Over the past 14 months, she has developed 4 new allergies to food and been diagnosed with eosinophilic esophagitis. I just found pictures from when we lived in our previous house (14 months ago) of her happily eating grilled salmon, and now she has a "fish allergy." As the Myasthenia Gravis that I have has flared up since last May, we have been praying for wisdom and physically dissecting the house for causes.  One possible culprit has been the sacrificial rod disintegration within our hot water heater, possibly contaminating our hot water.  Baths. Dishwasher. Washing machine.

I don't need to search far to find out what heavy metals can do to one's system.  Eek.  I'm very grateful we have enough support and I am stable enough to finally care for the children and lead these investigations.

As we pursued researching my illness since it was getting to scary levels in the fall, losing speech and swallowing capacity, we went to Tristra Gray, in addition to hospital admissions, neurologists, etc.  Trista had an article on her office wall documenting a case of water contamination that was discovered via a hair analysis.  Basically, they snip a part of your hair, send it away to a lab, and it identifies minerals, toxins, and other information about what's going on in your body.  My hair analysis in November showed aluminum present in my system, among other things. In December, we had a hair analysis done for both children, and Naomi and David's also showed up with aluminum in their system! Not many doctors, to whom we presented these lab results have taken the test seriously, but yesterday, the children's pediatrician did.  Dr. Zimmerman prescribed blood tests, hinted at by the hair analysis and symptoms.  So, today I had our children's blood drawn according to the scripts.  Both Nurse Gray and Dr. Zimmerman were also very supportive of our use of the doTerra Essential Oils.  If cilantro can detox our body of metals, why not put a few drops of oil on our feet? 

Our little river of investigation and treatment is taking on many forms.  Having just gone through a valley this fall and winter with my own illness, I'm grateful we have maneuvered through naturopathic medicine, allopathic medicine, prescriptions, essential oils, and have enough of a baseline in each to accept the role of each form.  Could there be a day when the whole body is treated as a whole, from nutrition to environment to medicine to soul?

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Star Sense & Mindfulness

The dark night sky twinkled back at me more than I am used to this evening.  We are far from big cities. My mind wasn't on how many more stars I am seeing than when in NJ or Philly, but on how many exist all together.  

I attended a Singapore Math night at our kids school this evening.  Parents were led through each grade, K-6 and teachers laid out how the curriculum set up a strong "number sense" in each student's mind.  The beauty of the program is in the depth of learning and love of learning that each class is taken through.  It revamped math from the way I learned, how to churn out procedures, to now giving students tools to make the complex simple, with a strong base of familiarity in each problem.  Nurturing students into problem solvers instead of number crunchers. 

And so it must be with our stars. Multitudes hung and named in strategic places.   To the untrained eye, scattered and randomly seen, but to the trained, within orderly constellations reminding us of the current season and position of the earth within the universe. Will we be able to set up an infrastructure of "number sense" within a math curriculum to give our children an edge to begin to fathom the order and precision of the design of the stars? Shall we give them a glimpse of a few stars and teach their names and values and then one day take them to the country where they can see multiples upon multiples?

I'm encouraged by the Singapore Math Curriculum. I'm encouraged by the passion of the Grammar School Dean who ran the evening.  I'm encouraged by the process and potential as I contemplate how our children are trained, inspired, and learn to love to learn.  

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Psalm 8:3-4

Can you sense the mindfulness?

Monday, February 9, 2015

I See

Our little cast iron skillet sizzles many mornings with eggs to order.  Today, I made two eggs over-lite after sauteing garlic, mushrooms, and baby spinach and finished the dish with a drizzle of orange-infused oil. I sprinkled with salt and joined my mug of Rose Tea with a splash of raw honey while Mike graciously brought the kids to school.

I could not begin eating without finding a pen and paper, because this little song kept bugging me, and in moments like that, the song will escape me unless I put the pen to paper.  I kept singing it, not sure where it came from, and not sure who it may help.  Maybe myself, someday. I think it is what God would say to someone who feels lonely, or may be a bully in some situations, but let each reader be the interpreter for this one . . .

I see you when you're all alone
Sad and desperate to be known
I see you when the lights go down
I see you when you wear your crown
And lord it over so and so
Please treat him kindly, you don't know
The plans I have to make him known and
not to leave him
or you
on your own.

  


Sunday, February 8, 2015

Winning Authority

My new conversation starter for twenty-something adults, who work in retail and the food industry, is to ask them what their dream job is.  It lights up their eyes, usually, and I've seen extra signs of life after asking this question; some have lifted their head a bit, clicked off their phone, pulled back a shoulder or two, and some have even made eye contact and gone into a long explanations as to what their plans and dreams are for their life.  Then, I have try to encourage them in their vision for their life. This past week, the only one who didn't have vivid plans was the register clerk at Moe's Southwest Grill.  He wanted to run a business one day, not sure what kind, didn't quite care where or how, but just to be able to tell people what to do.  He wanted authority. 

The past week or two I have been working on winning back the authority of parenting our kids.  I have been down and out, up and down since October, and have not really been at peak strength since last May.  Either because of hospitalizations or illness, nannies or holidays, new staff or a lack of consistency in leadership, all areas have greatly effected the status quo of our home.   I was daunted by the prospect that I would now have the weight of the household back on my shoulders and even more so, the great task of leading the children. However, I have been refreshed by the fruit my consistency this the past week.  My strong voice gave a consistent "Yes or No" in parenting and the segments of time I had alone with each child were precious. I could read them books in funny voices and my poor Spanish pronunciation, held down the fort while Mike had several long days this week and just completed a call weekend, and was able to communicate to the children without being swayed by a sudden out-bursting tantrum.  Not only was I not swayed but I was not even shaken or upset by it, it wasn't even allowed in my kitchen.  I noticed the respect well up in them as I continued in consistency and firm fairness. 

My best learning of how to get back into parenting our children was during the two-week winter break.  Mike had time off (miraculously), parented so well, gave many examples and prayers that it was simple for me to follow the groundwork that he had laid during that time.  I listened to him teach the children, better than I ever could, in the car, at home, play their instruments with them, not take any crap from their little conniving, and during all that time I did not have a voice to "chime-in" as I usually would have, so listening to his full thoughts at each teachable moment was a college course in parenting our kids, for me. I'm very grateful for his beautiful role in our family.

So, when Sebastian says in the Little Mermaid, "You give them an inch, they swim all over you," he wasn't kidding.  I am flexible with visions and passions for what they want to create but when it comes to actual authority and laying out the framework of expectations, they are thriving now on the routine.  David heard Naomi practicing viola this morning, and walked right by me saying, "I have to get to my piano practice." Our amazing 1st grade teacher is encouraging the parents to resist the "mother-hen tendency" so rather than saying, "get your coat, lunch, shoes, backpack, etc." I just say to get in the car.  It's totally working.  I'm incredibly grateful. 

Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart. Proverbs 29:17

This is a significantly positive contrast from when the nanny was bribing them to brush their teeth with Mentos.












Saturday, February 7, 2015

Spinning

As I sit with my black sparkly hat on, very comfortable in a warm house, I am recapping the day at the 11 o'clock hour. A concept of "spinning" was brought to my attention by our nutritionist, Trista Grey.  The idea that your are spinning mentally and constantly on-the-go, ticking away but tired.  Such is life while on prednisone or 10 cups of coffee, take your pick.  The caffeinated side effect is the same.  Working out certainly helps, and being able to talk about what I'm spinning about is a gigantic bonus.

I had an opportunity to go out tonight with a great friend, Amy. We went out for a long drawn-out dinner and super conversation.  I love it when people invite conversation with questions, and Amy is one of those friends, whose questions point to her care for my well-being. I consider this one of the highest ways to be a good friend. I observed how she kindly listened and responded thoughtfully, as I chatted on, and on.  It felt so good to talk and just keep talking, that I must have said too much, spinning on with paragraphs for answers rather than a sentence or two. Thankfully, what this dear friend thinks about me is one area I do not have to keep spinning on about at this hour, knowing that she is a true friend regardless of how much I sounded like Mr. Chatterbox.  It is little times like this that I am grateful to have some friends back.  I had plenty of friends in help, word, and deed during the last few months, but this kind of outing was something I really enjoyed and hope to do again soon.

Mike and I are in an interval training program at our gym, which has done wonders for him and myself!  The last class I held 4 out of 6 planks without my knees for 30 seconds each.  Two weeks ago I could not hold one without knees, and four weeks ago I wouldn't have dreamt of going to the gym.  But, it was last summer where the spinning class did me in.  Using the same muscles over and over was not an appropriate use of my body; stand up, spin, sit down, spin, more resistance, less resistance, still spinning on and on.  I was not a fan of this class. 

I spin on with visions all the time.  My usual outlet of musical theater is not an option in this season.  I was part of the production of shows the last two years, and this year I am not.  I'm not even planning a themed birthday party for Naomi, which was a super outlet for going with her ideas and my visions, producing an unforgettable party together for the last 6 years! Even when she was turning two, she picked the theme for her party, and "Abby Elmo" came to celebrate with music and dancing. This paradigm shift in my February leads me to a very calming verse.  If I am to "be still and know," I will calm the spinning, pause the wheels and take a glance at Creator and calmer.  Wonderful Counselor.  Perhaps the only one who can extract prednisone-induced hyperactivity.

Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”

The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

Psalm 46:10-11

Friday, February 6, 2015

Winner Winner

Mike and I play this strategy card game, called Race for the Galaxy.  He just bought the 2nd Expansion Arc, so we are playing tonight with an added "orb."  Very interesting.  I hated playing this game in the beginning, and then after playing about 12 times, I started to really like it.  Now, it's my favorite game that we play together.  But tonight, the practice game, with the orb, was very confusing.  Once the game was over, I realized that every token from the orb had symbols on it that could have helped me throughout the game.  "It's very beneficial to expand the orb so you can collect tokens, which give you bonuses throughout the game," he says while cleaning up the cards.  Would have been nice to know half way through the game, or possibly in the beginning? Oh well, it was practice.

I had very good professors in college, and my violin professor had me pegged.  He would say things like,  "You should pray for the strength to practice and not pray to have a good lesson."  He said this in the context of another student, leaving me to read between the lines, but this is basically what he meant.  I can imagine how much better a musician I would be if I had done just that.  Is that what you call a lazy streak and supplement it with prayer?  I'd say so.

So, are we really in a practice round of life, or is this the real thing?  Do we have little orb tokens with symbols on them and have no idea that they will help us? Maybe. Do we have access and translation for the living and active Word of God and not bother reading it? Yes.  I know some very insightful people, whom I would never assume would miss the orb tokens of life, but maybe they do.   It is an investment of asking for wisdom and insight, gleaning from the scriptures, and working to get there.

The world offers many options for what it means to win. What will be yours? 


Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air.  But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified. 1 Cor 9:24-27

I can tell you right now, the competition will be on tomorrow night.  I better be on my A-game to get these orb symbols worked out, so I can give a hearty dose of competition and possibly win.  We do plenty of things with passion but we don't give each other prizes for 2nd place.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Size and Accuracy Matters

This month I entered a blog challenge hosted by a good friend, Stevie Parris.  The goal is to write daily for the month of February.  I wanted to challenge myself and see if the words came to the page at the mere discipline of sitting down and writing.  So I must write at this 11th hour, or I will be kicked out.  Let's see if the words come.

I am struck today with how little we are.  Our grumblings and disappointments are just small dark spaces in the ocean when seen from an aerial view. 

Today, when driving home from viola class with Naomi, David and our wonderful new babysitter, we found this bright light in the sky.   It was not moving and it was too twinkly and big to be a star.  It was perched over our house while pulling up, and we were all in awe and curiosity. Later in the evening, our babysitter texted me that she researched the light we saw, and it was Jupiter. 

On the way to school, back on Wednesday, I was excited to see the beautiful sun coming through shiny clouds on our horizon.  "Look guys, at the beautiful sky!" I shouted with excitement.  Naomi said, "Oooh, wow, how pretty!  Hey, are those stratus clouds? I think they are! Yes, those are stratus clouds." David asked, "Naomi, what? What on earth are you talking about, what are stratus clouds?" "David, you see how they look like blankets in the sky? That means the clouds are called stratus clouds," she confidently explained. 

How could I ever assess my schedule changes and disappointments as outside of the sovereign, perfect, and accurate will of God? Thankfully I am reading through Job, as I attempt to read through the Bible in a year, for the first time, regrettably.  But there I go, with the regrettably and the "if onlys."  For such a time as the present, I cannot afford to be anything less than present and grateful for my current moments, my friends and family, and my day given at each morning. 

	Can anyone understand the spreading of the clouds,
		the thunderings of his pavilion?
	Behold, he scatters his lightning about him
		and covers the roots of the sea. 
 

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Track-by-Track Discussion with Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey

I was all over the track-by-track discussion of If/Then the musical on Sirius XM this morning. Fascinated, as I get to listen to the composer Tom Kitt and playwright Brian Yorkey candidly discuss their insights and experiences while putting together the musical production, If/Then. Their honesty with their own lives and experiences, transcending into the plot and characters' depth is very refreshing.  This kind of transparency turned the theater from an entertainment venue to a personal experience that could not otherwise be replicated. 

They briefly discussed the 11 o'clock number, with the truth and power that they wanted to bring home in the final moments of the show.  While they were composing, they touched on the false starts and places they looked for inspiration, to the other great 11 o'clock numbers of musicals from the past.  Tom Kitt was honest, that at first he was intimidated by what was already written but pushed-on in the race to get it done.  I think that's why I loved his numbers, the discussion, and the show. He rocked the composition and passion with solid truth and inspiration.  "Always Starting Over" is a fantastic number, and Idina poured her life into it when we witnessed her singing it a few weeks ago.

I was so grateful for this show on the night we saw it.  Experiencing the show, for Mike and I, came just as a climactic moment in my treatment with a chronic illness, at an exact time that resolution emerged out of confusion.  The concept of an 11 o'clock number is new to me in semantics, but very familiar as I become more enlightened to conclusions and turns in this great life we get to live.


When are you starting over?

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

The Rock in the Background

When you play a piece of music on piano, there is generally a melody line and an accompaniment. When you cast a show for Musical theater, there are soloists and leads, and there are small groups like a barbershop quartet, or ladies trio, and then the ensemble. When you make a house a home, there are cosmetic design fixes and then there is structural integrity. Within each of these scenarios, the trained eye knows what is keeping the melody, the soloists, and the pictures up on the wall in a house.

When I am casting a show, I put my best musicians in those tricky small group positions.  Their moving notes and tight harmonies will carry the soloists and build up a foundation for the leads.  They will also set the bar higher for the ensemble, to follow their harmonies.  Granted, the leads need to be able to sing, but the leads do not need to be able to harmonize and blend with the majority of the ensemble.  A lead can learn his/her simple and often-popular melody, and belt it out.  (The hardest part,  when casting a high school group, is getting them to understand that the glamour of "being the lead" does not mean they are the best musician in the bunch.) 

When playing piano, the moving notes in the accompaniment or harmonization are not quickly recognized by the untrained ear.  The public ear goes to the right hand singing through the keys, in a quick-glistening run or beautifully-lined melody.  But the performer is really tested by his or her accompaniment, arpeggios, and moving notes supporting the melody line.  The supporting notes take more practice, they are more complex, and the timing has to be well subdivided and even, in order for the melody to have a note to stand on.
 
On a show like House Hunters, many clients comment on the wall color and the kind of counter tops, often neglecting the drainage system of the house or the condition of the HVAC unit.  How will the counter-tops have a cabinet to stand on, if the floor is flooded from a poor drainage system? 

And such it is with life.  Our real test of life is in our day to day moments, the habits and running of our daily encounters.  Our response to constant disappointment or constant praise.  We have many opportunities for a public and cyber life: status on Facebook, text to our friends, positions of leadership, teaching, speaking, implanting a pacemaker in someone, holding a court case, participating in class.  The list could go on of our outward appearances, in whatever role we have. 

Is that our real life, the essence of who we are? Would all of that outward show crumble if we were to crumble inside, be mentally fatigued, overtired, overworked, stressed, gripped with anxiety and fear for innumerable encounters throughout the day? I would say, yes. The show would crumble eventually.  We can put on a wonderful front for a long time, and choose people and places where the front will be shown.  But may I suggest a solid relationship with a powerful, all loving and all knowing God, who is not only able to offer you freedom from the sin of the world, and a life in eternity, but also able to sustain you in your own show and keep you within a light burden and an easy yoke?   

So I just took my 2nd Cellcept of the day, a medicine that works in the background, and takes about a year to kick in while the lead, prednisone, is currently making me feel and function really well.

Cheers, to another background star.

Monday, February 2, 2015

Will You Settle for the Moon?

I caved in when the Sirius XM Satelite Radio offered 5 months for $20.  Our subscription on our minivan had ended last summer, and after we had been harassed by Sirius Radio for months, with ludicrous offers, that wonderful bargain came.  I jumped on it because I love the Broadway channel,  the kids radio, and all the genres at my fingertips. 

Today I heard a piece from "Songs for a New World" called Stars and the Moon on the Broadway channel.  I know nothing about this show, but the poor character would "rather have" extra than what she had, or could have had in the beginning.  Hoping and wishing, and pushing for more and more. Turns out, she concludes through Jessica Molaskey's penned lyric, "I'll never have the moon."  Isn't that the way it goes.  We want and want, and store up more and more, and we can never quite have the moon, which her original love offered her with a promise of commitment, but she sacrificed for money, glamor, travel and a yacht.

Last week we saw Jersey Boys at the Hershey Theater.  It was a great show.  An inside view of what may have gone on in the group with the famous Frankie Valli, ended up very similar.  Frankie has a real gift, a clear voice that draws you into the music, consistently accurate and inviting.  But what many fans sadly don't see is the sadness, the loneliness, the makeshift homes within hotel rooms, broken relationships, and the background money shenanigans.

This morning I highlighted Proverbs 3:13-18.
 Blessed is the one who finds wisdom,
  and the one who gets understanding,
 for the gain from her is better than gain from silver
  and her profit better than gold.
 She is more precious than jewels,
  and nothing you desire can compare with her.
 Long life is in her right hand;
  in her left hand are riches and honor.
 Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
  and all her paths are peace.
 She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her;
  those who hold her fast are called blessed.
 
 The LORD by wisdom founded the earth;
  by understanding he established the heavens;
 by his knowledge the deeps broke open,
  and the clouds drop down the dew.
 
I am so encouraged that we can peer in on the lives of others through musical theater and characterization, and glean from their lives. That we have access to the living and active Word to set the record straight and full access to the One who founded the earth and established the moon.  Through almost any means, we can be drawn back to the One who does not break promises.

All came full circle as Mike and I played Race for the Galaxy with the new Alien Artifacts expansion tonight.  We were racing to own planets and developments within galaxies, and rack up points to beat each other out.  It was a tie.  Sounds very geeky, but it's a very good game.  My favorite game with my favorite person.  I'm so grateful to be able to have time and health to play a game tonight, last time we played was at Hershey Med Center in October.  To me, this is my moon for the day. A moment of gratefulness after a very productive day, thanking the God who sustained me and gave me an other chance at living. 

What moon are you setting your sights on?

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Three Grands and Six Little Hands

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David is jumping on the couch and flopping off, throwing pillows.  You would never know that just a few hours ago he was decked out in a size 4 tuxedo, black bow tie, playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a Steinway concert grand piano, accompanied by a string quartet.

The stage at the concert was set with three grand pianos, rows of young performers on stage left and right, and professional musicians from the community.  As groups of children went up in queue they performed the timeless Suzuki pieces with poise, skill, and musicality.  Naomi’s group quickly followed David’s, with three girls, between 6 and 8 years old playing Lightly Row.  The three grands with six little hands resounded together perfectly, big smiles and a triple bow at the end.  Applause.



 

The little fingers commanding the Yamaha and Steinway keys drew me back to the years of lessons and performances I had throughout my childhood, and drew me forward to a future for these kids, giving them solid foundations for learning.  The Suzuki method is teaching their minds how to learn, how to memorize, how to present themselves in front of hundreds of people, but most importantly, developing a love for music.  It is happening so young, that by the time they are in their “tweens” it will be second nature.   It offers children a community where they can meet up with their best friends, reap the rewards diligent practice, and learn who they are inside, at a soul level, as they forget about notes and rhythms.

I was grateful to take in all the signs of life: the shaky fingers of nerves, serious looks of concentration, the uprightness of the performers about to go on, and the relaxed posture of a performer who sits after he has just taken the bow.  I was enamored with the stage presence of the middle school students, playing sonatas and concertos, and the elegance and poise of the high school student who performed Saint-Saens concerto, in a sky blue gown.

Mike and I were discussing over a date at Cork and Fork last night, that everyone in the concert, from the three year olds to the high school seniors met the expectations set before them. The bar was raised, and even Naomi and David, who sometimes--well, frequently--do what we call sandbagging (e.g. I can’t. I don’t remember. I have no idea how to play that), probably just looked around and stepped up to the norm around them.  Amazing what “normal” becomes when “normal” is at a very high standard. Granted, David began walking towards the piano on his heels.  Sat down at the 8 foot Steinway and said, “I don’t think I can play Go Tell Aunt Rhody” in a shy cheeky whisper. Now, the previous student had just played that, but he is supposed to play Twinkle! Redirect!  “You’re playing Twinkle, let’s put your fingers here,” I said.  We looked up at his teacher conducting the strings, and his little fingers calmly, gently, and accurately played Twinkle Theme. As I was sitting next to him, with the sharpie mark on his left hand and a fingernail I forgot to cut, I had one eye go blurry from a tear.  The tear escaped my eye and probably glistened on my cheek as the final notes would play, How I wonder what you are. He lifted his hands off the keys properly, hopped off the piano bench, shuffled his way to the other boy performing with him, and they met up to bow together.  At this point I was trying not to lose it and very grateful the audience is focused on the little guys.  But so what, it is reality.  Parents cry when their kids do great things and this is just the beginning.

Sitting on stage with the younger performers for Part 1 of the program, I could hear the humming, singing, and tapping fingers all around, as each group performed. Life was real.  A child will not ask, “When is this over?” when he or she is surrounded by understanding and familiarity.   In a generation where we are so quick to hand over the iPad to keep the children quiet, watching their friends perform the pieces they have been listening to for 6 months in the car on the way to school gave our kids an opportunity to relate, and really hear and feel the music.  I can see that they are now equipped to listen at a concert, at least the pieces in Book 1, with depth. 


Our family’s usual conniving-for-a-snack-from-the-vending-machine went on as we experienced the rest of the concert together, now as audience members for the middle and high school performers. As we held out for the refreshments at the end of the concert, Mike and I were both highly impressed with the execution and musicality of the kids who performed.  It confirmed our decision to keep the kids in a Suzuki curriculum for their music education.  It nudged me to want to become Suzuki certified as a piano teacher and get back to playing my J.S. Bach Inventions and Beethoven Sonatas from college.  Reading the bios in the program of the students who accomplished the National Piano Guild Auditions annually, and received the Sonatina Awards reminded me of years of my own “shivering inside,” as Naomi puts it, and great enjoyment and accomplishments. The light in parents’ eyes after the concert, some having never seen anything like this before, and some crowding around their senior in their final performance, was life giving.  We are a part of this community together, building each other up from the infants up.  The little cries and whimpers throughout the concert, I gladly excuse, because the parents are doing the best thing possible.  Giving their babies an opportunity to listen, learn, and be a part of all of us. 

As comments flourish around moms outside of the Suzuki communities, I hear things like, “my kid can’t do that, playing an instrument is just for smart kids, and there’s just no way.” I stand by Dr. Suzuki’s philosophy,  “Every child can.” 

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