One note at a time

I had my third cello lesson this week. Oh, my. Let me tell you, there has been no other instance in my adult life in which I have felt so dumb. Having taught piano for 21 years seems to help me very little with this instrument. It helps me read the music, but that's about it.
To make music on the piano, you touch the keys. To make music on the cello requires thinking of about 250 different things at the same time, and apparently, even then, it may sound like a tortured bovine.
The first week of practice, I may have apologized to my family a thousand times, and truly, I almost quit for their sake alone.
The second week, I got to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in some variations and sometimes it sounded like a real song. My hope was renewed. I brought this and page after page of brilliance back to my teacher who said I was doing very well and that this week we were going to concentrate on how I played the notes.
Wait...what? Didn't you hear how many pages I got done this week?
Who cares if I'm using the bow like a handsaw! My D scale actually sounded like eight real notes!
I don't think she cared.
She wants me to focus on each bow stroke; how much of the bow I use for each note, how lightly I use the bow to produce a good tone, to keep my elbow and wrist loose and "flowy". This in addition to everything else. I can't just saw my way through a million little songs. Sigh.

Christian and I were talking about this very concept this week upon his return from Europe. Every time he has been there, he has been struck by one glaring truth. Europe produces quality. America produces quantity.
In Europe, you buy handmade pastries and bread and fresh fruits and vegetables every morning. You don't go to Walmart and stock up on supplies for the week.
When you dine out in Europe, it is expected that the meal should take hours. I mean, maybe 4 hours. Waitstaff does not earn money based on tips so there is not the need to turn so many tables in a night and no one is in a hurry. Each bite of the food is tasted and enjoyed for pleasure.
Buildings there date back closer to the fall of the Roman empire than to current date and have the beauty to prove it. Old buildings here are torn down rather than restored, and then, ironically, a new one is built to look just like the first.
Here, we mass-produce and massively consume. What has it gained us? That answer should be obvious.

The other day was senior day at my local grocery store. I chuckled and thought of my grandparents as I inhaled the smell of mothballs. That, and some browsing in some antique stores this week reminded me of some of my grandparents' way of thinking.
When one bought clothing, you bought few items, but they were good quality and you took care of them so they would last. My grandpa, bless his heart, always smelled of mothballs when he pulled his best suit out. Wonder how long he kept that thing.
When one bought furniture, it was solidly built and you'd better like it because you were gonna slipcover that stuff from now til eternity to make it last. My grandma, bless her heart, had practically the entire living room covered in plastic. Floor runners ran in mazes covering every path you might walk, plastic or flowery slipcovers adorned the "sofa", and the original plastic covered the lampshades so they never got dusty.
Now, we buy cheap products, and when they're ruined, we buy another.

I have been bemoaning the arrival of fall. I'm such a summer girl, through and through, that most times all that fall feels like to me is a precursor to the season I dread. Sock-sweater-huddle-around-the-fire-to-keep-warm-season. No-basking-in-the-sun-season. "Can't-I-just-feel-warm"-season.
As I was driving down the road I rolled my eyes at the leaves that were beginning their metamorphosis, and I knew the voice of my God as He said to me, "Look around you! Isn't it beautiful? I made it just for you."
Humbled, I smiled. "It is beyond beautiful. You made this just for me."


"I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me.
I should never have opened my mouth!
I've talked too much, way too much.
I'm ready to shut up and listen." Job 40:3-5

If I take a minute to look--to really see--instead of always thinking about the next thing. To slow down and look around and notice what I've been given. To taste and enjoy what I eat. To hear, or create a single, beautifully played note. To see the beauty and perfection in what's been made just for me.

To hear the music, smell the roses, and live this day one note at a time...




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I didn't sign up for this...

Today was one of those days! The kind where if I would've known ahead of time all that I needed to accomplish in one day, I would've tried to skip! I worked so hard from early until late that I fell asleep when my head hit the pillow, rather than suffering through the "hamster on a wheel" that is often my bedtime brain.
It doesn't help that my husband has been somewhere across the ocean for some time now. He comes home very soon, but not having my best friend here to notice and care makes the days even longer.

I have definitely had my share of time with my husband traveling. For nineteen of our twenty years together he has traveled for his job, and the amount, distance, and length of trips has only increased over time. Today, the difficult part is mostly that I miss him. Once upon a time, the difficult part was parenting little ones virtually alone.
Back in the day, I had twenty-four piano students in the afternoons and evenings when two of my three kids were getting home from school, an infant, and a husband who worked at the office, traveled, and worked two to three days out of an office in Detroit. Not to mention, I had no dishwasher!
Honestly, I don't know how I survived that season.
Then, he started working in the aviation industry and began traveling to Europe in addition to all the state-side travel. At some point in there we were called to homeschool. This did put a lot of the work-burden on me. But, on the flip-side, the kids and I became quite the little band of merry men. I look back very fondly on those years.

Now, here I am with one still home doing school with me, and two in the workforce. And my husband far away from me.

It's so easy to sum all of that up into a nice little story, but it doesn't tell you about the day-to-day difficulty of doing all that needed to be done--virtually alone. There were many tears and feelings of loneliness and hopelessness for me throughout those years. In one particularly ungraceful moment of wallowing in self-pity, after hearing Christian was leaving again, I remember saying the following embarrassing, ugly words: "I didn't sign up for this."

This week in a movie I watched and in a book I read, I heard two wives say those words, and each time I was reminded of saying them myself.
Because, guess what. I DID sign up for "this"! And everything "this" entailed. It's called better or worse. It's called thick and thin (literally and figuratively). :o) It's also called perspective.
Two years ago today, we had just arrived home from a 4800 mile 17 day trip that made a big circle from Michigan to the East Coast, up to Prince Edward Island and back around through Canada and home again. Last year at this time, we were several weeks into a three and a half month, epic adventure from coast to coast covering almost twelve thousand miles. In the span of twelve years or so, we have now road-tripped all 48 states together!
Two of my three have been to Europe with their Dad, and the third is gearing up for her turn.
I say all that not to sound boastful because I know without a doubt that those trips have all been gifts from my heavenly Daddy, but it reminded me that what I had so pathetically complained about also became my blessings. It just depended on how I looked at it! Christian's job had allowed us the chance to see the world.
I could have had a more typical lifestyle, and would have missed out on so very much. Getting "thrown" out of the box was to my benefit!
Good thing I signed up for the "this"!

Life is so much like that, isn't it? We commit, then complain along the way, and then eventually, with some perspective we can look back and see how the struggles actually grew us and somehow became something to be grateful for.
Now, I'm working on skipping that whole complaining part, and just starting out being thankful. For what is surely for my good (Romans 8:28), knowing the plans He has for me can only be for my good (Jeremiah 29:11), and realizing that in the end I've developed character; and that is priceless.

There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 5:3-5
The Message






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Coming soon to a woman near you...

I just have to share this. It is definitely a change from my usual blog postings, but I just had to address it. I so wish I would have had some of this insight twenty years ago.
And for those of you husbands who might be reading, if you have any love at all for your wife, please read on.

For years, my husband has loved me through a roller coaster of hormones that may have sent a lesser man packing. For some reason, this girl has had issues regarding estrogen and progesterone and their wild, wild ride that most times hasn't seemed quite fair.

I listened to these messages this morning and cried. It is so important to relate and know that someone understands. Maybe most importantly that it is not my imagination.

PMS is truly a physical issue that is used as a spiritual battleground. We cannot afford to take it lightly and dismiss it. Especially when it is such a real and relevant issue, or maybe it would be better described as a clear and present danger. :o)

Please, take the time to listen to this. There are two messages available, and both are amazing. They are also on iTunes as a podcast titled "The Hormone Swing." It will change the way you think.

If you've struggled in this area and can relate please comment here on the blog. I'm thinking this might be a topic worth discussing further...

A poem by the author of the book I'm reading called, "Jump off the Hormone Swing," Lorraine Pintus:

The Crowd that is Me

Within this body live many women
There's one that is holy, and one that is sinnin'.
One woman sings loudly with lots of praises
Another spreads fear for the rage that she raises.

One wife is gracious, selfless and kind
Another is toxic and out of her mind.
One mother is gracious and stunningly wise
Another is foolish even in her own eyes.

The woman that emerges depends on one thing
The nature of her hormones and the height of her swing.