I now have 3 tenors interested. One of them has sung 2 of the pieces before, including that irascible Daemon Irrepit Callidus! He will be away over the weekend, but comes highly recommended. Yes! Thank you, God. And there is another one who could do it, ready in case the first one in unable for some reason.
I try to arrange a time for everyone to get together and run the pieces, for at this date, there will be no sculpting. But alas! Lives and schedules are complicated. Try as I might, the only time these people will all be under the same roof at the same time is the dress rehearsal! Can you believe it? I still hold on to the idea that I could use the CD for any piece that doesn't fly, but at the same time, I have to believe that somehow it will come together.
Like with so much that I do, somehow by God's grace, the final result is better than anything I could possibly manage on my own. It is probably the most common story of my life. So I rejoice in a full complement of singers for the quartet and trust that together they will do what needs to be done. Lord have mercy.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Soprano Woes
OK - this isn't funny any more. I just found out that my quartet soprano is pregnant enough that she is too sick to sing in my recital. Deep breath. Lourdes was worried that might be the case, and had me give the music to one of my PrayerSong sopranos. Thank God. I email her post haste. She is a good sport about the whole thing.
Imagine having such a responsibility dumped on you at the last minute. Unbelievable. Still, there is a rumbling of hope. Lourdes has called in her markers and asked around. There are some names of possible tenors. Hang in there and lose no sleep. God is at work.
Imagine having such a responsibility dumped on you at the last minute. Unbelievable. Still, there is a rumbling of hope. Lourdes has called in her markers and asked around. There are some names of possible tenors. Hang in there and lose no sleep. God is at work.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
More Tenor Trauma
You have got to be kidding me! The new tenor got a job in New York City and begins on Monday. He will not be able to sing in my recital. Waahhhh!!!! I feel like Gideon when God reduced his fighting forces from thousands down to a few hundred. But what a force they were! I sure hope that is happening here - the best selected, the chaff eliminated.
I go home numb with the news. I laugh with hysteria. OK. CD's it is. And yet - God is the God of the miraculous. I can do nothing. I have already contacted everyone I know and no one is available. It is asking the impossible for someone to step up, learn the music, and blend with my other dedicated singers with just days to go. Yet. It's possible.
God, I will focus on what I can do, what still needs to be done. I will leave the rest to you. Thanks.
I go home numb with the news. I laugh with hysteria. OK. CD's it is. And yet - God is the God of the miraculous. I can do nothing. I have already contacted everyone I know and no one is available. It is asking the impossible for someone to step up, learn the music, and blend with my other dedicated singers with just days to go. Yet. It's possible.
God, I will focus on what I can do, what still needs to be done. I will leave the rest to you. Thanks.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Don't Think About It
Recital things are coming together. The main choir is in good shape. PrayerSong is coming along nicely. The slides are wonderful, thanks to Tom and Sandy. Bits and pieces are appearing and soon they will fit together well. Don't think about the fact that the recital is only 9 days away. Don't think about the fact that the Quartet has yet to sing together and parts of it are a crumbly mess.
Make your to-do list, organize the rehearsal dinner, accept help when offered and continue trusting God. After all, God designed you to dream up this idea, and He has enabled you to have the resources to carry it out. Lucky lucky lucky. What more wonderful thing than to direct choirs who are singing music you love?
So refuse to be put off your game by any unwelcome thoughts or negative emotions. Trust. Do what you know to do. All will be well.
Make your to-do list, organize the rehearsal dinner, accept help when offered and continue trusting God. After all, God designed you to dream up this idea, and He has enabled you to have the resources to carry it out. Lucky lucky lucky. What more wonderful thing than to direct choirs who are singing music you love?
So refuse to be put off your game by any unwelcome thoughts or negative emotions. Trust. Do what you know to do. All will be well.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Quartet Rehearsal
There is no day that I can pull all my quartet singers together for a rehearsal. Practicing piecemeal is driving me mad! This is like trying to get a firm hold on melted Jello. I feel like things are just getting messier. My soprano is not catching on to some of the parts and we go over them patiently. After all, I am asking a lot. These pieces are not walks in the park.
My alto is solid, and the bass seems to be also, but the new tenor is struggling. He does not learn music quickly, but he promises me repeatedly that he will go over the music at home. He even came in and had me record the tenor part on piano so he could listen to it while driving. I want to believe that this quartet will survive, but I find myself consoling my concern by telling myself that if worse comes to worse, for the sake of the flow of the service, I can simply play the piece from a CD. I have recordings of the 4 songs.
It won't be the same for sure, but it is not worth losing sleep over. Besides, as my friend reminds me, God is in control, and He will take care of things for me. I believe that. I divorce myself from any driving need for success and turn it over to the one who knows what is needed. Let's give it some more time.
My alto is solid, and the bass seems to be also, but the new tenor is struggling. He does not learn music quickly, but he promises me repeatedly that he will go over the music at home. He even came in and had me record the tenor part on piano so he could listen to it while driving. I want to believe that this quartet will survive, but I find myself consoling my concern by telling myself that if worse comes to worse, for the sake of the flow of the service, I can simply play the piece from a CD. I have recordings of the 4 songs.
It won't be the same for sure, but it is not worth losing sleep over. Besides, as my friend reminds me, God is in control, and He will take care of things for me. I believe that. I divorce myself from any driving need for success and turn it over to the one who knows what is needed. Let's give it some more time.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Dissertation Blues
The rule is that you have to turn in your dissertation 3 weeks before your recital. That date was February 13. I did manage to get it in on time, but my Bibliography was not in great shape, and I did not include my printed program or my powerpoint slides since neither one was done yet. First things first. 70 page dissertation, then printed program.
I sent the program to my advisor for approval, and she found some inconsistencies which I corrected. Then I resubmitted the dissertation with the program in it (and incidentally made those consistency changes in the paper itself). But now that I have submitted the paper, there are continuous little details that I am discovering that I want to include.
I know this is not the final version and that I will get it back with corrections to be made, but I am not sure if I should keep adding to the paper. Who knew someone had done a musical Lord's Prayer using contemporary worship choruses? Now that I have discovered it, I should make reference to it for sure. After all, this is just my version of someone else's idea.
If I keep adding things, it will likely grow unwieldy. I will have to ask my advisor when I see her. She will be here soon enough. Travel arrangements are all made and a hotel room reserved. I am counting down the days until March 6. It almost doesn't seem real, yet I am working very hard to pull it all together. Now what did I do with that new tenor?
I sent the program to my advisor for approval, and she found some inconsistencies which I corrected. Then I resubmitted the dissertation with the program in it (and incidentally made those consistency changes in the paper itself). But now that I have submitted the paper, there are continuous little details that I am discovering that I want to include.
I know this is not the final version and that I will get it back with corrections to be made, but I am not sure if I should keep adding to the paper. Who knew someone had done a musical Lord's Prayer using contemporary worship choruses? Now that I have discovered it, I should make reference to it for sure. After all, this is just my version of someone else's idea.
If I keep adding things, it will likely grow unwieldy. I will have to ask my advisor when I see her. She will be here soon enough. Travel arrangements are all made and a hotel room reserved. I am counting down the days until March 6. It almost doesn't seem real, yet I am working very hard to pull it all together. Now what did I do with that new tenor?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
QiGong
My friend invited me to come to a free class. I did a little bit of this kind of thing at the YMCA once and it was complicated but not difficult. I need to add movement to my health initiatives, so I figure why not? Besides, it will give me time with my friend! Bonus!
I pull into the church parking lot and wait a few minutes until I see someone else going inside. I follow along, remembering the setup of the halls, where the bathrooms are. It seems a lifetime ago that I directed music here. We will work in a large spacious room where the walls are painted in quaint Bible scenes with palm trees and artwork hung on the walls.
We spread out, giving ourselves room to move freely and begin warming up. The goal is to move every joint in our bodies, to limber up slowly. It takes a full 20 minutes to work our way from our heads to our toes, but it feels good, and I can actually execute all the moves without falling over or half doing the maneuver. The leader's quiet voice walks us through each movement accompanied by a CD of nature music - rain and bamboo flutes and birds chirruping. It is very peaceful.
Then our leader directs us to begin a pattern of movements that tell a story. She describes each move with colorful phrases like "Tiger Pushes Mountain" and "Comb the Peacock." I giggle at some of the images. I know these moves are choreographed fighting, but it doesn't feel like I am defending myself against anything other than stiffness and immobility.
We end by stretching and shaking out, then bowing to each other. I feel a little silly, but I also feel wonderful! My blood is circulating steadily and my breathing is deep, not labored. I think I am going to like this a lot! I am a bit concerned that I may feel stiff tomorrow, but I enjoyed our hour of moving. It is perfect for an aging Baby Boomer like myself. And fun! I am already looking forward to next week.
I pull into the church parking lot and wait a few minutes until I see someone else going inside. I follow along, remembering the setup of the halls, where the bathrooms are. It seems a lifetime ago that I directed music here. We will work in a large spacious room where the walls are painted in quaint Bible scenes with palm trees and artwork hung on the walls.
We spread out, giving ourselves room to move freely and begin warming up. The goal is to move every joint in our bodies, to limber up slowly. It takes a full 20 minutes to work our way from our heads to our toes, but it feels good, and I can actually execute all the moves without falling over or half doing the maneuver. The leader's quiet voice walks us through each movement accompanied by a CD of nature music - rain and bamboo flutes and birds chirruping. It is very peaceful.
Then our leader directs us to begin a pattern of movements that tell a story. She describes each move with colorful phrases like "Tiger Pushes Mountain" and "Comb the Peacock." I giggle at some of the images. I know these moves are choreographed fighting, but it doesn't feel like I am defending myself against anything other than stiffness and immobility.
We end by stretching and shaking out, then bowing to each other. I feel a little silly, but I also feel wonderful! My blood is circulating steadily and my breathing is deep, not labored. I think I am going to like this a lot! I am a bit concerned that I may feel stiff tomorrow, but I enjoyed our hour of moving. It is perfect for an aging Baby Boomer like myself. And fun! I am already looking forward to next week.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Tenor Dilemma
Oh, no! My tenor got a job. This amazing fabulous gifted tenor is working at MacDonald's for minimum wage. Imagine his situation. Sing in a recital or work a job that will help support your family. No contest. He will keep the job. He is afraid they will not be able to stay in America. I understand, but what a dilemma for me. How will I ever replace a tenor just days before the recital??
My friend reminds me that God is still God and I can trust him. She is right, of course. I could wish otherwise, but that is how life is. We do not always get to work with best case scenarios. If we did, we would all be rich and comfortable and fully satisfied with every aspect of our lives. So, to the knees I go. Lord, surely somewhere in your wide vast empire there is a tenor who can step in at the last minute and sing 4 little songs, yes?
My friend reminds me that God is still God and I can trust him. She is right, of course. I could wish otherwise, but that is how life is. We do not always get to work with best case scenarios. If we did, we would all be rich and comfortable and fully satisfied with every aspect of our lives. So, to the knees I go. Lord, surely somewhere in your wide vast empire there is a tenor who can step in at the last minute and sing 4 little songs, yes?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Benefit Concert
Lourdes has introduced us to two singers who just recently have immigrated to the United States who are in need of income. Our church seems to have a ministry of this sort.
It is not easy to get established in a country where jobs are hard to come by and even more difficult to find when you have restrictions and need working papers and all that. She asks if they can hold a concert and take up an offering. We have done that before for others. We are happy to do that again.
Besides, they are excellent singers. I love to listen to them sing. What a wonder that they don't really read music. They learn everything by rote. Plus of course, English is a huge challenge. Easier for them to sing in Italian or Latin than in English. I worry about their ability to learn all my recital music.
I sit back in the pew and listen to their music as they sing song after song, mostly opera arias and folk music from Peru and Cuba. It is a delightful concert. Again and again I am taken to the heights as the tenor executes warm and full high held notes that amaze and scintillate the aural palate. I am taken in by the soprano's flirtatious eyes and expressions of teasing when the texts call for such.
And what a treat to hear Lourdes play music from Cuban composers. I love the rhythms, the jauntiness, the frolic and happiness embedded in the scores that she brings to life. It is a good concert. I hope we give them as much joy as they have given us. Ole!
It is not easy to get established in a country where jobs are hard to come by and even more difficult to find when you have restrictions and need working papers and all that. She asks if they can hold a concert and take up an offering. We have done that before for others. We are happy to do that again.
Besides, they are excellent singers. I love to listen to them sing. What a wonder that they don't really read music. They learn everything by rote. Plus of course, English is a huge challenge. Easier for them to sing in Italian or Latin than in English. I worry about their ability to learn all my recital music.
I sit back in the pew and listen to their music as they sing song after song, mostly opera arias and folk music from Peru and Cuba. It is a delightful concert. Again and again I am taken to the heights as the tenor executes warm and full high held notes that amaze and scintillate the aural palate. I am taken in by the soprano's flirtatious eyes and expressions of teasing when the texts call for such.
And what a treat to hear Lourdes play music from Cuban composers. I love the rhythms, the jauntiness, the frolic and happiness embedded in the scores that she brings to life. It is a good concert. I hope we give them as much joy as they have given us. Ole!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Late for Practice
I will not be able to spend much time with Mark and Faith and Shiloh today. I need to get back to Rochester in time for a PrayerSong rehearsal. The forecast is for light snow and windy. I am worried that we might be slowed down a bit so I decide to leave early. We make a flying trip to Mark's for a last hugging and making sure they have all they need.
The roads are clear enough through Amsterdam, but shortly after we get on the Thruway, traffic slows. The wind whips the snow about, causing white out conditions. We drive through one belt of white after another. Suddenly, we encounter 2 snowplows driving side by side slowly. They do not let traffic past them. When they reach the next turn around, they do just that, heading back. They are working in pairs at each stretch of road, intentionally slowing down the traffic to help prevent accidents. The white outs are severe.
We turn on the radio to the emergency station and call the advisory phone number. They have closed sections of the Thruway because of the conditions and have ordered all tractor trailer trucks to exit even the portions that are open. Traffic backs up at every off ramp as the trucks comply, slowing our progress even more. It is clear that if this doesn't let up soon, I will miss my rehearsal.
We debate whether to press on or turn back. I urge pressing on. Surely we will drive out of this mess soon. Mile after mile of driving at 35 or 40. I am convinced that if we can just get past Syracuse we will be in the clear, but it does not happen. The lanes of the Thruway heading east are completely empty because they have been closed. Like some unending nightmare we are forced by traffic and weather to creep along though the roads themselves are bare. This is crazy.
At a few minutes before the rehearsal is to start, I begin calling as many as I can to tell them that I will be there in 20 minutes. I have reached Rochester, but am on the east side. I can't get anyone to answer their phones. Finally I reach one of the singers and she says she can see Lourdes' car and others just pulling in. She will run interference until I get there.
Ah, me. Shiloh was worth it. But I need to make progress toward my recital, which is quickly approaching. I tumble from the car before Kiel even stops, hurriedly telling him to come back in 2 hours, and run into the sanctuary. They have just finished warming up and are ready to go. Phew! Grace of God. It's just not good form to be late for your own rehearsal.
The roads are clear enough through Amsterdam, but shortly after we get on the Thruway, traffic slows. The wind whips the snow about, causing white out conditions. We drive through one belt of white after another. Suddenly, we encounter 2 snowplows driving side by side slowly. They do not let traffic past them. When they reach the next turn around, they do just that, heading back. They are working in pairs at each stretch of road, intentionally slowing down the traffic to help prevent accidents. The white outs are severe.
We turn on the radio to the emergency station and call the advisory phone number. They have closed sections of the Thruway because of the conditions and have ordered all tractor trailer trucks to exit even the portions that are open. Traffic backs up at every off ramp as the trucks comply, slowing our progress even more. It is clear that if this doesn't let up soon, I will miss my rehearsal.
We debate whether to press on or turn back. I urge pressing on. Surely we will drive out of this mess soon. Mile after mile of driving at 35 or 40. I am convinced that if we can just get past Syracuse we will be in the clear, but it does not happen. The lanes of the Thruway heading east are completely empty because they have been closed. Like some unending nightmare we are forced by traffic and weather to creep along though the roads themselves are bare. This is crazy.
At a few minutes before the rehearsal is to start, I begin calling as many as I can to tell them that I will be there in 20 minutes. I have reached Rochester, but am on the east side. I can't get anyone to answer their phones. Finally I reach one of the singers and she says she can see Lourdes' car and others just pulling in. She will run interference until I get there.
Ah, me. Shiloh was worth it. But I need to make progress toward my recital, which is quickly approaching. I tumble from the car before Kiel even stops, hurriedly telling him to come back in 2 hours, and run into the sanctuary. They have just finished warming up and are ready to go. Phew! Grace of God. It's just not good form to be late for your own rehearsal.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Seeing Shiloh
We head out after work. I had hoped to be on the road sooner, but these things just take time. I wanted to pick up some outfits for Shiloh, so I make a quick stop at Babies R Us and found some adorable newborn things on the sale rack in a variety of colors - including purple! After a long day at work I am tired. I am thankful that Kiel is driving.
The road seems endless. Mile after mile slides by while the darn clock barely inches along. We have to stop several times for breaks, but the weather is not terrible. Familiar landmarks pass us in the darkness of evening. At last we pull off the Thruway and make our way through Amsterdam and the back roads to Saratoga Springs. The trip seems never ending.
And then, we pull into Mark's iced over driveway and make our way with great care to the door. Oooohhhhh. Aaaawwwwwwww. So tiny! Sleeping peacefully, little nose barely poking out of the blanket. Ramseyes comes screaming out of the bedroom, excited to see his Uncle Kiel. I greet him, handing him a present (you can't give one grandchild a gift without giving the other one too!).
Faith asks if I would like to hold her. Would I! I slip off my coat and settle into a chair to receive the bundled blanket with precious contents. I have not held such a small baby in a long time. I am almost afraid to move for fear I will disturb her sleep. She wriggles and stretches, yawning and sleepily opening her eyes to stare at me for a moment before drifting back to dreamland. Not a care in the world.
Mark holds his own baby picture next to her face and proudly tells me how much she looks like he did as a baby. Uh-oh. I can tell this little muffin will have her daddy wrapped tightly around her little finger straight away. I want to sit here for a long time cradling this wee child. It is miraculous.
I remember feeling this way with every grandchild. I still feel like it with the other grandchildren even though they are growing up so fast. But I tire and the hour grows late. We need to make our way up to Mom's house for the night before we disturb my siblings up there too much. With a sigh, I tear myself away, take a million pictures while Kiel and Andrea take turns holding her, and then head back down the ice walk to the car.
Tomorrow we will do something about that ice. But tonight I float on baby sweetness. Aren't babies wonderful? I can say that because I am the Gramma and I can go get a good night's sleep. Good night Shiloh, good night Ramseyes. See you tomorrow.
The road seems endless. Mile after mile slides by while the darn clock barely inches along. We have to stop several times for breaks, but the weather is not terrible. Familiar landmarks pass us in the darkness of evening. At last we pull off the Thruway and make our way through Amsterdam and the back roads to Saratoga Springs. The trip seems never ending.
And then, we pull into Mark's iced over driveway and make our way with great care to the door. Oooohhhhh. Aaaawwwwwwww. So tiny! Sleeping peacefully, little nose barely poking out of the blanket. Ramseyes comes screaming out of the bedroom, excited to see his Uncle Kiel. I greet him, handing him a present (you can't give one grandchild a gift without giving the other one too!).
Faith asks if I would like to hold her. Would I! I slip off my coat and settle into a chair to receive the bundled blanket with precious contents. I have not held such a small baby in a long time. I am almost afraid to move for fear I will disturb her sleep. She wriggles and stretches, yawning and sleepily opening her eyes to stare at me for a moment before drifting back to dreamland. Not a care in the world.
Mark holds his own baby picture next to her face and proudly tells me how much she looks like he did as a baby. Uh-oh. I can tell this little muffin will have her daddy wrapped tightly around her little finger straight away. I want to sit here for a long time cradling this wee child. It is miraculous.
I remember feeling this way with every grandchild. I still feel like it with the other grandchildren even though they are growing up so fast. But I tire and the hour grows late. We need to make our way up to Mom's house for the night before we disturb my siblings up there too much. With a sigh, I tear myself away, take a million pictures while Kiel and Andrea take turns holding her, and then head back down the ice walk to the car.
Tomorrow we will do something about that ice. But tonight I float on baby sweetness. Aren't babies wonderful? I can say that because I am the Gramma and I can go get a good night's sleep. Good night Shiloh, good night Ramseyes. See you tomorrow.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
First WW Goal
5 lbs. Hard won, I have to say. Even with a chemo slid in there (of course, the steroids work against losing weight). But nevertheless, I am down 5 pounds and I will try to keep it off and keep the scale's needle heading in the downward direction.
Of late, the mental battle is no longer about how deserving I am to be pampered. It is more about convincing myself that I am not hungry. I admit to feeling sorry for myself. After all, everyone else can eat as many raw fruits and vegetables as they want to stave off their hunger while I cannot. I have no PowerFoods on which to rely because if I were to eat a lot of that kind of food, I would do myself in.
I have a good excuse to quit. Or at least, that is what I tell myself. And yet. I am going with my friend, and she is relying on me to hang in there with her. Sigh. Deep down I know the wisdom of continuing to eat wisely and more frugally. I didn't become a blimp in a day, and I will not get over it easily either.
Then I slide down the "if only" side of the ladder. If only I could exercise like these other women do, I would lose weight faster, feel like I am making better progress, be encouraged. But my body is too worn out by all the medical treatments and I can't handle all that running. It's a valid suggestion, but there are ways to overcome such limitations.
The bottom line is that it doesn't matter how much progress everyone else is making or how many obstacles I encounter in reaching my goal. What matters is that I continue to focus on the goal of getting healthier by eating less and eating better quality food. Not pushing the limits and making myself sick, but learning how to slowly and steadily improve my situation.
OK. Pep talk over. Now back to work.
Of late, the mental battle is no longer about how deserving I am to be pampered. It is more about convincing myself that I am not hungry. I admit to feeling sorry for myself. After all, everyone else can eat as many raw fruits and vegetables as they want to stave off their hunger while I cannot. I have no PowerFoods on which to rely because if I were to eat a lot of that kind of food, I would do myself in.
I have a good excuse to quit. Or at least, that is what I tell myself. And yet. I am going with my friend, and she is relying on me to hang in there with her. Sigh. Deep down I know the wisdom of continuing to eat wisely and more frugally. I didn't become a blimp in a day, and I will not get over it easily either.
Then I slide down the "if only" side of the ladder. If only I could exercise like these other women do, I would lose weight faster, feel like I am making better progress, be encouraged. But my body is too worn out by all the medical treatments and I can't handle all that running. It's a valid suggestion, but there are ways to overcome such limitations.
The bottom line is that it doesn't matter how much progress everyone else is making or how many obstacles I encounter in reaching my goal. What matters is that I continue to focus on the goal of getting healthier by eating less and eating better quality food. Not pushing the limits and making myself sick, but learning how to slowly and steadily improve my situation.
OK. Pep talk over. Now back to work.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Doctor Checkup
My quarterly checkup. The doctor is concerned about the cases of pertussis and pneumonia going around and decides that I ought to have immunizations against them - especially if I am going out to see a brand new baby! We call the oncologist to see if I have gotten either recently. No.
I submit to the nurse my arms. Yeow! Those shots hurt! She tells me that my arm may be sore for a bit. I believe her. I also know that these nasty diseases are indeed going around. Several people I know have one or the other. I know that my immune system could not ward off such intense diseases, and I am grateful for the foresight and the concern.
The last thing I would want to do is expose little Shiloh Marie to some horrible illness. Much less have fought off cancer only to succumb to something else. So I'll take the small irritation of a needle shot and be glad.
I submit to the nurse my arms. Yeow! Those shots hurt! She tells me that my arm may be sore for a bit. I believe her. I also know that these nasty diseases are indeed going around. Several people I know have one or the other. I know that my immune system could not ward off such intense diseases, and I am grateful for the foresight and the concern.
The last thing I would want to do is expose little Shiloh Marie to some horrible illness. Much less have fought off cancer only to succumb to something else. So I'll take the small irritation of a needle shot and be glad.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Shiloh Arrives
Grandchild number 4! A girl. Healthy. Six pounds 11 ounces. I can't wait to see her. I wanted to go the day she arrived, but I cannot get free. I will have to wait until this weekend to see her. I know the new parents (son number 3 + wife) are busy, overwhelmed, tired, stressed. I will not interfere. But how delightful!
I remember when my own bambinos arrived. From my first incredulous look at DJ to my still awed gaze at Drew, I was amazed that such life could have come from me. How does God do that? Build an entire person from two tiny pieces of interior stuff? Yet everytime the same parts arrive in the same incredible working order, yet always different.
I will look forward to getting to know little Shiloh Marie. She will be unlike Kelly or Katie or Ramseyes. She will be her own little person, a unique character with likes and dislikes, gifts and talents, aptitudes for just what she alone can do - just like my other darling grand children. I only wish I lived closer so that I could spend more time with these children.
I pray the prayer of all mothers everywhere. Lord, bless my babies and help them grow strong and good and loving. Amen.
I remember when my own bambinos arrived. From my first incredulous look at DJ to my still awed gaze at Drew, I was amazed that such life could have come from me. How does God do that? Build an entire person from two tiny pieces of interior stuff? Yet everytime the same parts arrive in the same incredible working order, yet always different.
I will look forward to getting to know little Shiloh Marie. She will be unlike Kelly or Katie or Ramseyes. She will be her own little person, a unique character with likes and dislikes, gifts and talents, aptitudes for just what she alone can do - just like my other darling grand children. I only wish I lived closer so that I could spend more time with these children.
I pray the prayer of all mothers everywhere. Lord, bless my babies and help them grow strong and good and loving. Amen.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine's Chapel
I wasn't going to go. After all, I do not have a significant sweetheart other in my life, and sometimes I would just rather not be reminded of that. But I received an email invite from one of the music faculty that he is performing a piece he wrote for this special chapel, and I don't want to miss that. So I go.
On the platform are 4 couples in various stages of their married life. They sit together cozily while the chaplain feeds them questions about what married life is like, what helps, what hurts, what is important. We laugh and applaud their answers, and I can identify with many of them. It is clear that marriage is something you have to work at, but it is so totally worth working at.
Then the song the professor wrote. Not about thunderbolts and passion and gooey mush, but about how love is something that grows over time, about how he loves his wife more now than when they first met, about how good it is to spend a long time with the same person. What a different message than we ever hear from Hollywood.
Love is not a rip-the-clothes-off animal urge that can't be helped, not something that is exotic and fleeting. Love is a learned commitment that improves with time. Nice. We saw that in the marriages of the couples who shared. It is good to hear the other side for a change. I am glad I went.
On the platform are 4 couples in various stages of their married life. They sit together cozily while the chaplain feeds them questions about what married life is like, what helps, what hurts, what is important. We laugh and applaud their answers, and I can identify with many of them. It is clear that marriage is something you have to work at, but it is so totally worth working at.
Then the song the professor wrote. Not about thunderbolts and passion and gooey mush, but about how love is something that grows over time, about how he loves his wife more now than when they first met, about how good it is to spend a long time with the same person. What a different message than we ever hear from Hollywood.
Love is not a rip-the-clothes-off animal urge that can't be helped, not something that is exotic and fleeting. Love is a learned commitment that improves with time. Nice. We saw that in the marriages of the couples who shared. It is good to hear the other side for a change. I am glad I went.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Surprise Announcement
What an odd Sunday. My tenor who is singing a solo part in the prayer response sings a completely different melodic line than the one written. People seem unsettled. I chalk it up to the weather and keep going. We move through the service and I am blissfully unaware that anything is amiss.
After the sermon, after the offering, after the closing hymn, the choir moves off the platform and queues up to sing the benediction. The pastor, who usually moves to the back of the sanctuary to pronounce the closing prayer, has stayed on the platform, but I don't find this particularly significant until - until
Instead of saying the closing prayer, she asks the congregation to be seated. With great emotion, she shares with us that she has received a promotion to district superintendent and will be leaving us in June for a district further west and south of us. You can almost feel the shock waves rumbling through the pews. I am totally taken by surprise. I had no idea this was coming.
I am happy for Sherri, so pleased that her excellence has been noticed and rewarded. She is a truly caring and spiritually astute pastor. She will do well. And she will be greatly missed. I love her gentle firmness. She creates welcoming worship spaces for us, prepares us well to partake of the things of the Spirit. Though I have only been working with her for 3 1/2 years, I feel as if I have known her for a long time.
As we sing our closing benediction and head down the aisle, I read the faces of people I am passing. I see happiness, fear, shock, concern, joy, surprise and wonder. It will be an interesting journey ahead. God is moving among us. All will be well.
After the sermon, after the offering, after the closing hymn, the choir moves off the platform and queues up to sing the benediction. The pastor, who usually moves to the back of the sanctuary to pronounce the closing prayer, has stayed on the platform, but I don't find this particularly significant until - until
Instead of saying the closing prayer, she asks the congregation to be seated. With great emotion, she shares with us that she has received a promotion to district superintendent and will be leaving us in June for a district further west and south of us. You can almost feel the shock waves rumbling through the pews. I am totally taken by surprise. I had no idea this was coming.
I am happy for Sherri, so pleased that her excellence has been noticed and rewarded. She is a truly caring and spiritually astute pastor. She will do well. And she will be greatly missed. I love her gentle firmness. She creates welcoming worship spaces for us, prepares us well to partake of the things of the Spirit. Though I have only been working with her for 3 1/2 years, I feel as if I have known her for a long time.
As we sing our closing benediction and head down the aisle, I read the faces of people I am passing. I see happiness, fear, shock, concern, joy, surprise and wonder. It will be an interesting journey ahead. God is moving among us. All will be well.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Saturday Rehearsal
OK, here we go. One day after chemo, and I have two Saturday rehearsals - PrayerSong and the quartet. There was just no help for the scheduling. I rest all day, and plan on sitting for the rehearsal, praying that I can make it through to the end before I collapse.
But what is this? I am feeling pretty good. No pain in every joint of my body. No headache. No tummy troubles. No tiredness? Hum. Let's hope it lasts. I go in a bit early to make sure I have music for any new singers. PrayerSong arrives and we have a good workout. I am standing for the whole hour.
The quartet is late in arriving, and PrayerSong takes advantage of the time to work a bit longer than usual. I am worried about the quartet. We really need to work, and I am thinking that I will ask them to stay later since we will get such a late start. I am surprised that only three of my five singers arrive. We work as best we can without all the voice parts. I am concerned. I wonder if they are OK.
When at last we stop, I have been standing for 2 1/2 hours and I am not tired! I am doing fine. This is extraordinary. I hope it holds. Maybe getting the double steroids has done the trick. Maybe I will not have the usual reaction at all. Right now, I am going home and not pushing my luck. I will find out what is going on with my singers tomorrow.
But what is this? I am feeling pretty good. No pain in every joint of my body. No headache. No tummy troubles. No tiredness? Hum. Let's hope it lasts. I go in a bit early to make sure I have music for any new singers. PrayerSong arrives and we have a good workout. I am standing for the whole hour.
The quartet is late in arriving, and PrayerSong takes advantage of the time to work a bit longer than usual. I am worried about the quartet. We really need to work, and I am thinking that I will ask them to stay later since we will get such a late start. I am surprised that only three of my five singers arrive. We work as best we can without all the voice parts. I am concerned. I wonder if they are OK.
When at last we stop, I have been standing for 2 1/2 hours and I am not tired! I am doing fine. This is extraordinary. I hope it holds. Maybe getting the double steroids has done the trick. Maybe I will not have the usual reaction at all. Right now, I am going home and not pushing my luck. I will find out what is going on with my singers tomorrow.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Chemo
Here we go again. Another maintenance round. I am counting on this to keep the cancer at bay. I have steeled my heart to endure whatever it brings, praying that the pain and fog will clear in plenty of time for my recital to happen with me back to full force. I am at peace as I wander into the infusion center and meet my nurse.
She explains that the doctor has not yet written orders and she is trying to contact her. The couple in the pod next to mine are preparing for oral surgery to help deal with the effects of past treatments and ongoing health issues. Once again I am reminded of how fortunate I am that I have not encountered these issues.
They talk non stop. I am worn out with their angst! But I listen respectfully. It is not easy to go through these things. Suddenly the nurse appears with my premeds. She tells me that I am getting a more concentrated form of Rituxan this time. I panic for a moment, picturing doubled impact of pain and fatigue. I shake it off and put it in God's hands.
The nurse tells me that due to the strength of the Rituxan, they are doubling the steroids and Benedril and all. Yikes! Something tells me I will sleep through the infusion. I dutifully swallow each little pill, pink, white, blue. The familiar bitterness overtakes my mouth and I ask for a gingerale from the hospitality cart, along with animal crackers, Weight Watchers not withstanding.
I settle back in the comfy chair and try to read. I am just completing Ted Dekker's Circle books. The words blur on the page and I nod off. Then the nurse returns to hook up the Rituxan and take my blood pressure. Doing well. She hangs an IV of fluids to dilute the chemo (it usually works better that way) and leaves me again to my dozing.
The hours fly by, and soon it is late afternoon and I am done. My premeds haven't begun to wear off yet. I know I will sleep for the rest of the day. That's why I choose Friday, so I can recover as much as possible over the weekend. We shall see what this weekend will bring! A speedy recovery, I hope.
She explains that the doctor has not yet written orders and she is trying to contact her. The couple in the pod next to mine are preparing for oral surgery to help deal with the effects of past treatments and ongoing health issues. Once again I am reminded of how fortunate I am that I have not encountered these issues.
They talk non stop. I am worn out with their angst! But I listen respectfully. It is not easy to go through these things. Suddenly the nurse appears with my premeds. She tells me that I am getting a more concentrated form of Rituxan this time. I panic for a moment, picturing doubled impact of pain and fatigue. I shake it off and put it in God's hands.
The nurse tells me that due to the strength of the Rituxan, they are doubling the steroids and Benedril and all. Yikes! Something tells me I will sleep through the infusion. I dutifully swallow each little pill, pink, white, blue. The familiar bitterness overtakes my mouth and I ask for a gingerale from the hospitality cart, along with animal crackers, Weight Watchers not withstanding.
I settle back in the comfy chair and try to read. I am just completing Ted Dekker's Circle books. The words blur on the page and I nod off. Then the nurse returns to hook up the Rituxan and take my blood pressure. Doing well. She hangs an IV of fluids to dilute the chemo (it usually works better that way) and leaves me again to my dozing.
The hours fly by, and soon it is late afternoon and I am done. My premeds haven't begun to wear off yet. I know I will sleep for the rest of the day. That's why I choose Friday, so I can recover as much as possible over the weekend. We shall see what this weekend will bring! A speedy recovery, I hope.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Tough Topic of Healing
Chapel all week is about healing. One of the professors here shared about healing. He has experienced miraculous healings from major death-causing diseases, and also lack of miraculous healing of other major illnesses.
He talked about the "yes" and the "no" of God healing in this age. What a wonderful picture of relationship with God he drew for us. It's a hard question to address. Why do some people get healed and others do not? More specifically, why didn't I get healed of cancer?
In some ways, I can say I was healed of rectal cancer. I went through the treatment, and didn't experience the horrible pitfalls that some people experience. The treatment was successful and I have been pronounced cured of rectal cancer. That is a wonderful answer to prayer.
Not everyone who undergoes the treatment lives. And I DIDN'T end up with an ostomy which many rectal cancer patients have for the rest of their lives. Not instantaneous or miraculous from the perspective that it was without medical intervention. But good. And how blessed am I that I live in a country that offers a treatment, as barbaric as it sometimes seems?
Even now with the follicular lymphoma, I have had good success with the treatments. Many people do not. I have lived for 7 years more than I would have had I refused treatment. Have I done everything I could? Probably not. When my son was so ill, we did try everything, from the sublime to the ridiculous, in our frantic attempt to keep him alive.
I realized after he died that even if you do it all, you may not find the key to life. In the perfect world that God created, God's intention was for humans to enjoy perfect health and happiness. But we do not live in a perfect world any more. There are so many impacting factors. Some we understand, some we have no concept of.
God knows all the solutions. Sometimes, for reasons we cannot understand, he decides to intervene and heal someone. And when he does, we are blessed and rejoice in it. The rest of us continue in prayer in season and out of season, knowing that in the end, we wind up in heaven where we will be happy and whole. And this life will be but a distant and fading dream.
For me, though it would be amazing to find that I am suddenly and without explanation healed of all cancer, I find no compelling reason to fuss about "why me" or insist that God heal my body. After all, at some point I will die. That's how it is with humans. It is for me more about living well what time I may have left.
Not packing everything I can think of into every waking moment. Rather keeping my priorities in line with what is pleasing to God, doing only what he leads me to do, leaving the rest for someone else. Mostly it is about loving my family, loving my friends, loving my neighbors, spending time with people when I am not spending time with God. And maybe that is real healing because before cancer, that was not my focus.
And recognizing all the little healings and victories along the way. That the nurse got an IV in on the first try. That my port continues to work. That the impact of the chemo treatments is less because I went to my Father and cried and he heard me and touched me. That I continue to have health insurance. That I am blessed with wonderful friends. That I have good doctors who watch out for me proactively. That I can still work. That I am able to walk the dog. That I get to be with my kids as often as possible. That I can eat - even if I have a lot of restrictions. That I can walk under my own power.
Healed? God loves me. Healed? God is with me. Healed? I am blessed with abundance. Healed? My life is good. Healed? My cup overflows. Healed? I have many family and friends. Healed? I am free. Healed? Yes - in many ways that are significant. And healed? Yes, eventually completely. With a glorified body and everything.
He talked about the "yes" and the "no" of God healing in this age. What a wonderful picture of relationship with God he drew for us. It's a hard question to address. Why do some people get healed and others do not? More specifically, why didn't I get healed of cancer?
In some ways, I can say I was healed of rectal cancer. I went through the treatment, and didn't experience the horrible pitfalls that some people experience. The treatment was successful and I have been pronounced cured of rectal cancer. That is a wonderful answer to prayer.
Not everyone who undergoes the treatment lives. And I DIDN'T end up with an ostomy which many rectal cancer patients have for the rest of their lives. Not instantaneous or miraculous from the perspective that it was without medical intervention. But good. And how blessed am I that I live in a country that offers a treatment, as barbaric as it sometimes seems?
Even now with the follicular lymphoma, I have had good success with the treatments. Many people do not. I have lived for 7 years more than I would have had I refused treatment. Have I done everything I could? Probably not. When my son was so ill, we did try everything, from the sublime to the ridiculous, in our frantic attempt to keep him alive.
I realized after he died that even if you do it all, you may not find the key to life. In the perfect world that God created, God's intention was for humans to enjoy perfect health and happiness. But we do not live in a perfect world any more. There are so many impacting factors. Some we understand, some we have no concept of.
God knows all the solutions. Sometimes, for reasons we cannot understand, he decides to intervene and heal someone. And when he does, we are blessed and rejoice in it. The rest of us continue in prayer in season and out of season, knowing that in the end, we wind up in heaven where we will be happy and whole. And this life will be but a distant and fading dream.
For me, though it would be amazing to find that I am suddenly and without explanation healed of all cancer, I find no compelling reason to fuss about "why me" or insist that God heal my body. After all, at some point I will die. That's how it is with humans. It is for me more about living well what time I may have left.
Not packing everything I can think of into every waking moment. Rather keeping my priorities in line with what is pleasing to God, doing only what he leads me to do, leaving the rest for someone else. Mostly it is about loving my family, loving my friends, loving my neighbors, spending time with people when I am not spending time with God. And maybe that is real healing because before cancer, that was not my focus.
And recognizing all the little healings and victories along the way. That the nurse got an IV in on the first try. That my port continues to work. That the impact of the chemo treatments is less because I went to my Father and cried and he heard me and touched me. That I continue to have health insurance. That I am blessed with wonderful friends. That I have good doctors who watch out for me proactively. That I can still work. That I am able to walk the dog. That I get to be with my kids as often as possible. That I can eat - even if I have a lot of restrictions. That I can walk under my own power.
Healed? God loves me. Healed? God is with me. Healed? I am blessed with abundance. Healed? My life is good. Healed? My cup overflows. Healed? I have many family and friends. Healed? I am free. Healed? Yes - in many ways that are significant. And healed? Yes, eventually completely. With a glorified body and everything.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Planning Easter
Pastor and I meet from time to time to touch base and look ahead at the Scripture, music and worship for upcoming seasons. Easter is quite late this year, but I have a chemo treatment followed by my music recital, and I wanted to make sure I was fully functional and able to think clearly, so I asked to meet earlier than normal to look at what we might want to do for Easter. I am fortunate to work with a flexible and understanding pastor!
We spent some time catching up with each other. Our paths take us in such divergent directions! When at last we looked at the dates following my recital (Ash Wednesday is the first Wednesday after my recital), we didn't have much time for nitty-gritty level titles included planning, only a broad overview and game plan.
Unfortunately, I know I will not look at our planning ideas until after my recital, and time will be at a premium. I head for the car and onward to the library with a sigh and a prayer. Lord, let your Spirit speak to me throughout these next weeks about Easter and worship. Let me hear clearly the direction you wish your congregation here to go. Only You know what lies ahead for us, and I am fully engaged with upcoming immediate events. I ask your grace to plan the best most in sync worship possible. Amen.
We spent some time catching up with each other. Our paths take us in such divergent directions! When at last we looked at the dates following my recital (Ash Wednesday is the first Wednesday after my recital), we didn't have much time for nitty-gritty level titles included planning, only a broad overview and game plan.
Unfortunately, I know I will not look at our planning ideas until after my recital, and time will be at a premium. I head for the car and onward to the library with a sigh and a prayer. Lord, let your Spirit speak to me throughout these next weeks about Easter and worship. Let me hear clearly the direction you wish your congregation here to go. Only You know what lies ahead for us, and I am fully engaged with upcoming immediate events. I ask your grace to plan the best most in sync worship possible. Amen.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Chapel Reaction
I hadn't thought beyond what I would say. I just wanted to encourage people and tell them a few ways they can do something practical for a cancer patient. After I spoke, a number of students approached me - some to offer to pray with me, some to ask for prayer for themselves or for loved ones, some to just thank me for sharing. Tears flowed and I could easily see that this is something these wonderful young people encounter.
I was not prepared for the effect to continue on. That afternoon, students sought me out in my office and in the library to chat. Some have felt a call to the chaplaincy and are pursuing a career change. Others asked me how I would react if they offered to do something I hadn't mentioned. Did I think others would be open to such activities? How would I feel about this or that idea? There is a real concern not to offend anyone, but to really show love and care.
On and on the interviews went, well into the night and the next few days. I am overwhelmed by the hearts and depth of love these students evidence. This is a rich campus filled with tender hearts who want to make a difference. How encouraging and uplifting to be surrounded by so many passionate people. Surely there is great hope for our world. I am blessed to have a very small part in the process.
I was not prepared for the effect to continue on. That afternoon, students sought me out in my office and in the library to chat. Some have felt a call to the chaplaincy and are pursuing a career change. Others asked me how I would react if they offered to do something I hadn't mentioned. Did I think others would be open to such activities? How would I feel about this or that idea? There is a real concern not to offend anyone, but to really show love and care.
On and on the interviews went, well into the night and the next few days. I am overwhelmed by the hearts and depth of love these students evidence. This is a rich campus filled with tender hearts who want to make a difference. How encouraging and uplifting to be surrounded by so many passionate people. Surely there is great hope for our world. I am blessed to have a very small part in the process.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Speaking in Chapel
Today I had the honor of talking with Roberts students about what a cancer patient experiences, what is helpful and supportive, what they can do when someone they care about has cancer. Like most of us, we think of a cancer diagnosis as a death sentence, something we can do nothing about. We wring our hands and feel helpless. We begin grieving.
Truth is that many cancer patients, whether they die of cancer or are cured, have some length of time during treatment when they will need our help and support. Some of the most wonderful gifts I received were the beautiful cards people sent me, especially those that included a Bible verse, a promise of better days, something long term to fix my eyes on. Cards are wonderful.
Then there were people who drove me to appointments and prayed with me and for me before, during and after appointments and procedures. I think of my dear friend Beth who held my ankles as they installed my Groshong catheter, and Sherri as she held my feet while I underwent the stomach biopsy and Peggy who sat and knitted prayer shawls while I had scans and MRI's done.
My friend Diane brought me an elegant dinner when I was having a day of chemo - complete with china and tablecloth, candles and flowers. We had a wonderful time eating in the little pod. Even the nurses came to see.
Music is a wonderful encouragement while sitting for a whole day undergoing some chemo or other lengthy medical treatment. My friend Chris sent me a CD with his favorite picks and I listened to that CD a lot. Now I have a new friend who comes and sings a hymn with me once a week as I am working hard on getting back up to speed.
Sometimes friends just pop into my office to see how I am doing and they pray for me right on the spot. How uplifting is that! Or they Facebook me or call me or text me just to tell me that they are thinking about me and praying for me. I am very blessed.
People I hardly knew made meals for me and my family. Some quietly gathered up the dirty laundry and took it home and washed, dried, and folded it for weeks in a row. Others dropped off bags of groceries, helped me pay the bills, mailed letters for me, organized my kitchen, and even hired someone to come in once a week to clean the kitchen and bathrooms! Phenomenal. Appreciated. Necessary. Practical. Helpful.
One time before surgery, I asked the pastor to meet me in the hospital chapel for prayer. I was terrified that I would die in the surgery and could not get past the fear. He brought half the church with him, and together, we recited Psalm 23 and the Lord's Prayer. Then he anointed my head with oil, and my hands with rose water - in the sign of the cross. He prayed that God would be with me all day, and told me that when I felt afraid, to smell the fragrance of the rose water to remind me that all my brothers and sisters in Christ would be praying for me.
The fear left as each person hugged me, prayed for me, whispered a verse of encouragement in my ears. God was with me, and they reminded me that I was not alone. It is still one of the highlights of my journey with cancer.
Yes, there IS much we can do to come alongside cancer patients and stand with them in their battles. Don't be afraid to do it. You would be surprised - if you offer - how many patients are relieved to have someone with them, even if all you do is sit there. We are so impacted by the idea that someone is facing death that we back off. But in truth, that's when we should step up.
I encourage you to get involved. Just do one little thing. What could it hurt to ask? It could make all the difference.
Truth is that many cancer patients, whether they die of cancer or are cured, have some length of time during treatment when they will need our help and support. Some of the most wonderful gifts I received were the beautiful cards people sent me, especially those that included a Bible verse, a promise of better days, something long term to fix my eyes on. Cards are wonderful.
Then there were people who drove me to appointments and prayed with me and for me before, during and after appointments and procedures. I think of my dear friend Beth who held my ankles as they installed my Groshong catheter, and Sherri as she held my feet while I underwent the stomach biopsy and Peggy who sat and knitted prayer shawls while I had scans and MRI's done.
My friend Diane brought me an elegant dinner when I was having a day of chemo - complete with china and tablecloth, candles and flowers. We had a wonderful time eating in the little pod. Even the nurses came to see.
Music is a wonderful encouragement while sitting for a whole day undergoing some chemo or other lengthy medical treatment. My friend Chris sent me a CD with his favorite picks and I listened to that CD a lot. Now I have a new friend who comes and sings a hymn with me once a week as I am working hard on getting back up to speed.
Sometimes friends just pop into my office to see how I am doing and they pray for me right on the spot. How uplifting is that! Or they Facebook me or call me or text me just to tell me that they are thinking about me and praying for me. I am very blessed.
People I hardly knew made meals for me and my family. Some quietly gathered up the dirty laundry and took it home and washed, dried, and folded it for weeks in a row. Others dropped off bags of groceries, helped me pay the bills, mailed letters for me, organized my kitchen, and even hired someone to come in once a week to clean the kitchen and bathrooms! Phenomenal. Appreciated. Necessary. Practical. Helpful.
One time before surgery, I asked the pastor to meet me in the hospital chapel for prayer. I was terrified that I would die in the surgery and could not get past the fear. He brought half the church with him, and together, we recited Psalm 23 and the Lord's Prayer. Then he anointed my head with oil, and my hands with rose water - in the sign of the cross. He prayed that God would be with me all day, and told me that when I felt afraid, to smell the fragrance of the rose water to remind me that all my brothers and sisters in Christ would be praying for me.
The fear left as each person hugged me, prayed for me, whispered a verse of encouragement in my ears. God was with me, and they reminded me that I was not alone. It is still one of the highlights of my journey with cancer.
Yes, there IS much we can do to come alongside cancer patients and stand with them in their battles. Don't be afraid to do it. You would be surprised - if you offer - how many patients are relieved to have someone with them, even if all you do is sit there. We are so impacted by the idea that someone is facing death that we back off. But in truth, that's when we should step up.
I encourage you to get involved. Just do one little thing. What could it hurt to ask? It could make all the difference.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Half Cent Valentine's Day
When I was in elementary school, especially in second and third grade, Valentine's Day was a big event. When I got older, Valentine's Day took on different meaning. More of a sense of romantic love. Back then, it was more about friendship.
We never would have thought of buying store-bought valentine's cards. We made our valentines. Right in school! There weren't as many kinds of valentines in the stores, and the idea of spending money to get something that should be coming from your heart was considered gauche.
The week before the big day, our art teacher would load the long art tables with supplies - red, white and pink sheets of construction paper, lace doilies, silver and gold foils, red, white and pink tissue papers and plain white paper to make envelopes from.
He showed us how to fold a sheet of red construction paper in half and draw a perfect half a heart shape to cut along which would produce a balanced and well shaped heart. We could make them in all sizes from the teeny tiny to the full paper size and made good use of both the solid heart and the cut out shape where the solid heart had been. Then he turned us lose to make valentines to our hearts content.
I had a huge list to fill. I always started with Mom. Of course. Who else but Mom should get one of these artistic creations? Then there was the brothers and sisters list, the kids who lived on my street, the kids in my class, the friends who lived in other cities, the people who attended my church who didn't have children - at least not ones who lived close by. I had a looong list with lots of names on it.
We talked and laughed and copied each others' ideas while we cut and pasted and folded and decorated and wrote. Nothing mushy mind you. Just short texts like "Be My Valentine" and "Hugs and Kisses." I loved the smell of the paste that came in big white pots with lids that had brushes attached. Snips of paper flew everywhere and sometimes you ended up gluing extra stuff where you didn't mean to glue stuff! Each person tucked everything they made into an empty shoebox for the big day.
If we didn't finish by the time art class was over, we could come back during recess (free time after lunch) or after school (before the bus arrived) or even in the morning before classes started if we wished. We plotted and created and counted to make sure we could give a card to everyone we knew.
At last the big day arrived. Someone always brought in cupcakes with little heart candies on fluffy white icing. We all hurried to our classroom to stuff the valentines we had made in our classmates' boxes. Everybody had a shoebox with their name on it, decorated with hearts and arrows and cupids. Cut into the front of the box was a little slot and we took turns dropping our cards in each other's slots. My tummy tingled with excitement.
The day began like every other day. First the pledge of allegiance to the flag, then roll call, then each subject. We squirmed in our seats, impatient for the party to begin. We worried through math, fidgeted through reading, and had a hard time staying focused through writing. Who could think about such boring things as adding or sounding out words when those shoeboxes full of cards awaited our investigation?
At last, our teacher would lay aside her book and quietly tell us to clear our desks and sit up straight. We knew the moment had come. Ceremoniously, she brought each child's shoebox to their desk and place it in front of them. We knew better than to start opening. First, we waited to see her open her valentines.
She sat quietly behind her big desk and took the lid off her shoebox. One by one, she took out the cards, opened them, read the words and told who it was from, then showed us the artwork, holding the card up high in the air for us all to "oooohhhh" and "aaahhhh." Each card was unique and beautiful. Some were just plain and neatly lettered, others had all sorts of fancy paper doodads dangling off them.
The most important hope was that the teacher would say something about the card you gave her that showed how much she liked yours. When she opened my valentine, I would hold my breath, worried that she wouldn't like it, or would just toss it aside. But she never did. I am not an artist. I can't draw well, and somehow my hearts always seemed crooked.
But my teacher never noticed that. She would exclaim about the creative use of tissue paper or the cute little arrow piercing the heart or the neatness of the lettering. I always felt proud that my efforts at making a valentine pleased her. After she finished her box of cards, we all dove into ours, opening the decorated envelopes and watching our piles grow. We had so many friends, we were rich with valentines.
No child had fewer than any other child, not even the troublemakers or the kids who took forever to learn. Everyone got the same amount of caring creations as everyone else. It was nice to be showered with valentines. And get to eat cupcakes in class! On our way out to the bus, the teacher always gave each of us a handful of those little candy hearts that had sayings on them, and we would read them out loud to each other, laughing at the silly sayings, and crunch them loudly while we made our ways home.
There I would admire the cards my brothers and sisters got, and hand out the ones I made for them, especially for the younger kids who didn't go to school yet. Mom always made a heart shaped cake for dessert and hung our cards to her on the refrigerator where they stayed until Easter. All in all, a lovely day.
We never would have thought of buying store-bought valentine's cards. We made our valentines. Right in school! There weren't as many kinds of valentines in the stores, and the idea of spending money to get something that should be coming from your heart was considered gauche.
The week before the big day, our art teacher would load the long art tables with supplies - red, white and pink sheets of construction paper, lace doilies, silver and gold foils, red, white and pink tissue papers and plain white paper to make envelopes from.
He showed us how to fold a sheet of red construction paper in half and draw a perfect half a heart shape to cut along which would produce a balanced and well shaped heart. We could make them in all sizes from the teeny tiny to the full paper size and made good use of both the solid heart and the cut out shape where the solid heart had been. Then he turned us lose to make valentines to our hearts content.
I had a huge list to fill. I always started with Mom. Of course. Who else but Mom should get one of these artistic creations? Then there was the brothers and sisters list, the kids who lived on my street, the kids in my class, the friends who lived in other cities, the people who attended my church who didn't have children - at least not ones who lived close by. I had a looong list with lots of names on it.
We talked and laughed and copied each others' ideas while we cut and pasted and folded and decorated and wrote. Nothing mushy mind you. Just short texts like "Be My Valentine" and "Hugs and Kisses." I loved the smell of the paste that came in big white pots with lids that had brushes attached. Snips of paper flew everywhere and sometimes you ended up gluing extra stuff where you didn't mean to glue stuff! Each person tucked everything they made into an empty shoebox for the big day.
If we didn't finish by the time art class was over, we could come back during recess (free time after lunch) or after school (before the bus arrived) or even in the morning before classes started if we wished. We plotted and created and counted to make sure we could give a card to everyone we knew.
At last the big day arrived. Someone always brought in cupcakes with little heart candies on fluffy white icing. We all hurried to our classroom to stuff the valentines we had made in our classmates' boxes. Everybody had a shoebox with their name on it, decorated with hearts and arrows and cupids. Cut into the front of the box was a little slot and we took turns dropping our cards in each other's slots. My tummy tingled with excitement.
The day began like every other day. First the pledge of allegiance to the flag, then roll call, then each subject. We squirmed in our seats, impatient for the party to begin. We worried through math, fidgeted through reading, and had a hard time staying focused through writing. Who could think about such boring things as adding or sounding out words when those shoeboxes full of cards awaited our investigation?
At last, our teacher would lay aside her book and quietly tell us to clear our desks and sit up straight. We knew the moment had come. Ceremoniously, she brought each child's shoebox to their desk and place it in front of them. We knew better than to start opening. First, we waited to see her open her valentines.
She sat quietly behind her big desk and took the lid off her shoebox. One by one, she took out the cards, opened them, read the words and told who it was from, then showed us the artwork, holding the card up high in the air for us all to "oooohhhh" and "aaahhhh." Each card was unique and beautiful. Some were just plain and neatly lettered, others had all sorts of fancy paper doodads dangling off them.
The most important hope was that the teacher would say something about the card you gave her that showed how much she liked yours. When she opened my valentine, I would hold my breath, worried that she wouldn't like it, or would just toss it aside. But she never did. I am not an artist. I can't draw well, and somehow my hearts always seemed crooked.
But my teacher never noticed that. She would exclaim about the creative use of tissue paper or the cute little arrow piercing the heart or the neatness of the lettering. I always felt proud that my efforts at making a valentine pleased her. After she finished her box of cards, we all dove into ours, opening the decorated envelopes and watching our piles grow. We had so many friends, we were rich with valentines.
No child had fewer than any other child, not even the troublemakers or the kids who took forever to learn. Everyone got the same amount of caring creations as everyone else. It was nice to be showered with valentines. And get to eat cupcakes in class! On our way out to the bus, the teacher always gave each of us a handful of those little candy hearts that had sayings on them, and we would read them out loud to each other, laughing at the silly sayings, and crunch them loudly while we made our ways home.
There I would admire the cards my brothers and sisters got, and hand out the ones I made for them, especially for the younger kids who didn't go to school yet. Mom always made a heart shaped cake for dessert and hung our cards to her on the refrigerator where they stayed until Easter. All in all, a lovely day.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Quiet Eye
Interesting little book. Have you ever seen it? I ran across a reference to it in one of the little sacred space devotionals I am reading. I was curious, so I looked it up. It seems that back in the 1950's, a Quaker woman named Sylvia Shaw Judson felt the need to communicate the sense of "divine ordinariness" - that sense of God in our everyday lives rather than in the spectacular and miraculous alone.
Ms. Judson selected artwork whose simplicity and daily applicability spoke to her, and included them in her book along with quotes by various individuals from George Fox to William Blake to Vincent VanGogh. It is a book one wishes to peruse at leisure, taking it up and pondering, putting it down, coming back often, savoring the impact.
I am not so sure I would have selected the particular artwork she selected, but it gives one pause to think - something we often take no time to do. Think, that is. Seek God in the mundane as captured by some of the great artists. Think how incredible is a bird in flight or a pair of comfortable shoes. Even though we see these things everyday.
Turns out there are more editions and they have been substantially changed. I will borrow the 2nd edition next and then the 3rd to see what has changed. But I will keep her soul idea for further consideration.
Ms. Judson selected artwork whose simplicity and daily applicability spoke to her, and included them in her book along with quotes by various individuals from George Fox to William Blake to Vincent VanGogh. It is a book one wishes to peruse at leisure, taking it up and pondering, putting it down, coming back often, savoring the impact.
I am not so sure I would have selected the particular artwork she selected, but it gives one pause to think - something we often take no time to do. Think, that is. Seek God in the mundane as captured by some of the great artists. Think how incredible is a bird in flight or a pair of comfortable shoes. Even though we see these things everyday.
Turns out there are more editions and they have been substantially changed. I will borrow the 2nd edition next and then the 3rd to see what has changed. But I will keep her soul idea for further consideration.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Faculty Forum
We are restructuring. The institution has functioned in a divisions capacity for some long time. But we are becoming unwieldy and need a good pruning in order to function more productively. For awhile, moving to a schools model was proposed as an idea to toss around. Now we are told that reorganization will happen regardless.
The good part is that we have input as to how that unfolds. There is skepticism. Concerns range from angst over adding another layer of administration in the Deans of Schools positions, to being clumped together in ways that will minimize some voices and give unfair advantage to others. Change is never easy to implement. And we as Americans tend to think that it must be a win - lose game, not a team cooperative.
Our forum moderator reminds us to keep focused on the good things. We have jobs. We are in the black as an institution. We are working to address the challenges head on. We are in good shape. It is an era of change, we are proactive not reactive. The rest is in God's hands. Thanks be to God.
The good part is that we have input as to how that unfolds. There is skepticism. Concerns range from angst over adding another layer of administration in the Deans of Schools positions, to being clumped together in ways that will minimize some voices and give unfair advantage to others. Change is never easy to implement. And we as Americans tend to think that it must be a win - lose game, not a team cooperative.
Our forum moderator reminds us to keep focused on the good things. We have jobs. We are in the black as an institution. We are working to address the challenges head on. We are in good shape. It is an era of change, we are proactive not reactive. The rest is in God's hands. Thanks be to God.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Not Quite There
I've been in Weight Watchers now for a month. Consistently I have managed to shed a mere pound each week, but it is hard won. I know the waistline has crept up since chemo - that wonder weight-loss program - which has ended for the most part. So now I must behave and pay attention to eating healthy.
What a problem it is to follow this program. The majority of their success comes from encouraging people to eat lots of raw fruits and vegetables, which I cannot do. I spoke with our rep right away to see if there was anything out there that would help me come up with fiber substitutes that would help me when I get the munchies but not add poundage.
I asked a second time, but so far, no one seems to know - or care - about my particular battles. After all, if you can't eat fruit and veggies, you are not eating healthy, right? I mean, even the nutritionist at the cancer clinic gave up on me. Basically I can tolerate processed junk food fairly well. But anything with a touch of fiber causes me to spend hours in a bathroom regretting the ingestion. Sigh.
I listen to the awards that are announced each week, and am happy for the people shedding 5 lbs, 10% of body weight, etc. They can eat all the carrots and apples and celery they want. I would love to be able to eat those things. I drool at the idea of crunching into a fresh stalk of celery. Man, that would be great. But I know better. No, my poundage comes off by simply not eating as much. Half portions. Smaller dishes. Skip a meal. I am pretty sure I will fold if someone doesn't tell me how to not feel hungry by day's end.
I am not quite 5 pounds down. You would think all this starvation would melt off the weight faster. But I guess I put it on slowly, and it will have to come off the same way. Phooey. I would way rather just eat what I want and not noodle around with points and pieces. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Or lost. Besides, I go with my friend, and I don't want her to think I am a big baby! I'll just have to suck it up - or in this case, NOT suck it up!
So regale me not with tales of feasting and decadence. Let me shrivel in peace. Give me a good 9 months before tempting me with delicacies. At least. Then we shall see.
What a problem it is to follow this program. The majority of their success comes from encouraging people to eat lots of raw fruits and vegetables, which I cannot do. I spoke with our rep right away to see if there was anything out there that would help me come up with fiber substitutes that would help me when I get the munchies but not add poundage.
I asked a second time, but so far, no one seems to know - or care - about my particular battles. After all, if you can't eat fruit and veggies, you are not eating healthy, right? I mean, even the nutritionist at the cancer clinic gave up on me. Basically I can tolerate processed junk food fairly well. But anything with a touch of fiber causes me to spend hours in a bathroom regretting the ingestion. Sigh.
I listen to the awards that are announced each week, and am happy for the people shedding 5 lbs, 10% of body weight, etc. They can eat all the carrots and apples and celery they want. I would love to be able to eat those things. I drool at the idea of crunching into a fresh stalk of celery. Man, that would be great. But I know better. No, my poundage comes off by simply not eating as much. Half portions. Smaller dishes. Skip a meal. I am pretty sure I will fold if someone doesn't tell me how to not feel hungry by day's end.
I am not quite 5 pounds down. You would think all this starvation would melt off the weight faster. But I guess I put it on slowly, and it will have to come off the same way. Phooey. I would way rather just eat what I want and not noodle around with points and pieces. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Or lost. Besides, I go with my friend, and I don't want her to think I am a big baby! I'll just have to suck it up - or in this case, NOT suck it up!
So regale me not with tales of feasting and decadence. Let me shrivel in peace. Give me a good 9 months before tempting me with delicacies. At least. Then we shall see.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Stepping In
Linda is not yet back from her Mother's funeral services in Iowa. She has a few classes that I will help out with, but I have never taught these courses before. Linda directs me via email to her handouts and gives me a thumbnail sketch of what to cover. This is not my area of expertise, but I will do my utmost to make sure these students know how to find what they need for their research.
I know Linda must be having a difficult time being in unfamiliar places and dealing with family and stress and loss. I do not wish to add to her angst. The professor is used to Linda teaching about how to construct search queries, not just showing students where to find resources and how to best manipulate the interfaces. In undergraduate classes, the professors teach that kind of information literacy skill. In grad school, students often have not been in class for a long time and have forgotten many things - not to mention that everything has changed.
We struggle through it together. What a wonderful experience to work with students who pay attention and really want to know so they can get on with their work! Even if I know nothing about the subject at hand, I supply the process, and they supply the terminology. Together we progress. Not bad for a last minute sub.
I know Linda must be having a difficult time being in unfamiliar places and dealing with family and stress and loss. I do not wish to add to her angst. The professor is used to Linda teaching about how to construct search queries, not just showing students where to find resources and how to best manipulate the interfaces. In undergraduate classes, the professors teach that kind of information literacy skill. In grad school, students often have not been in class for a long time and have forgotten many things - not to mention that everything has changed.
We struggle through it together. What a wonderful experience to work with students who pay attention and really want to know so they can get on with their work! Even if I know nothing about the subject at hand, I supply the process, and they supply the terminology. Together we progress. Not bad for a last minute sub.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Snowstorm Prediction
Every day the weather threatens us with a ton of snow. A veritable blizzard. Ice and wind and impossible travel conditions. It sounds scary. We watch the dark blobs of bad weather move across the map and sympathize with the weather person standing in a blinding snowstorm telling us how bad it is somewhere else.
Now they are telling us it is our turn. Drew is delighted. They cancel school. A day off! But the weather never antes up. It spits a drizzle of white, barely anything to be concerned about. The wind blows a bit and roads have some slushy gunk. Cars drive slowly, but despite a few accidents, you are not prevented from getting to work.
Its something of a disappointment. I too was hoping for a day off - even though I have just had days off. But I come to work and it is business as usual. We have had white stuff in the air practically since the first of December, but no major snowfall. Nothing measurable in feet. Or really even in inches.
Never mind. Every winter has its own rhythm, and this one is not ornery. I can live with that. I just hope Drew's school doesn't assume that the next dire prediction is wrong and ignore any oncoming systems. Better safe than in a ditch.
Now they are telling us it is our turn. Drew is delighted. They cancel school. A day off! But the weather never antes up. It spits a drizzle of white, barely anything to be concerned about. The wind blows a bit and roads have some slushy gunk. Cars drive slowly, but despite a few accidents, you are not prevented from getting to work.
Its something of a disappointment. I too was hoping for a day off - even though I have just had days off. But I come to work and it is business as usual. We have had white stuff in the air practically since the first of December, but no major snowfall. Nothing measurable in feet. Or really even in inches.
Never mind. Every winter has its own rhythm, and this one is not ornery. I can live with that. I just hope Drew's school doesn't assume that the next dire prediction is wrong and ignore any oncoming systems. Better safe than in a ditch.
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