Handel's Messiah

This past weekend I performed in a concert of Handel's Messiah.  Since September I have been singing with a group of concert singers, going through each choral piece from this intricate opera note by note.  I have been challenged as a musician and most certainly as a singer, which is not anything I've been specifically trained in.  Our group of 30 combined with another local group of about 75 to make a most magnificent choir.

Our first concert was in the United Church here in town, an old stone soaring cathedral built in the 1800s.  As our voices combined into musical chords the sound filled the structure and created the most incredible resonance.  Even the echoing silence after a note was cut off gave goosebumps.

I have never heard The Messiah all the way through before. I didn't know the string of scriptures that made up the story.  I had never seen the intricate runs of 16th notes.  But as I basked in such quality music week after week, it made me realize how much cultural junk food seeps into our daily lives.  While art can be entertaining, it is at its most powerful when it is reflecting us as a society, challenging us, or celebrating beauty.  Much of what we (I) consume these days falls short.

A friend recently wrote about finishing a year of great classical reads.  It's been a while since I cracked open one of these classic tomes, and his musing awakened in me the old yearning to really sink my teeth into something profound.

Likewise, I want to fill my children's lives with things "virtuous, lovely, praiseworthy, of good report." I love how inspired I am by the good art of the world, and I want to make sure my children are too.

Benjaminugget

We have yet to figure out a money system that works in our house, in relation to the kids.  They don't yet get a steady allowance (although we keep trying), but now and then they pick up some birthday money or something for a lost tooth, or a small gift from a grandparent just for being a darn cute kid.  At any rate, we are basically a cashless family now, so we never have bills and coins and change just sitting around.  Plus both Ben and Juliette have a penchant for wanting to count and play with money and I'm pretty sure some would go missing, and not necessarily their own.  For a while I tried having a little paper notebook, like the old checking account book I had as a kid (that you put into the green machine and it printed out your balance on it.)  That worked for a while, then we lost the books.

So we basically resorted to an honour/memory system.  Each of the boys just keeps a running tab in their head of what they have and what they spend.  They are astonishingly accurate and honest in their dealings, which is really nice to see.  They probably think I can remember it all, which would never be the case.  So up and down it goes, with an extra birthday check or a new book or toy. When they want to buy something, they inform me how much they have, and how much they will have once they "spend" the money.

With that background, we came to last Thursday.  Benjamin came home from school almost in tears.  His whole class was able to walk around those travelling book sales they bring to schools (overpriced books and encouraging the kids to make a detailed list of everything they want! Argh, I can't stand it!)  Well, he found a book he really wanted.  It was $10.  He knew that because he's five, he received $5 in allowance for September and October, giving him exactly $10.  So he grabbed the book, marched up to the cashier, and informed that person that he had $10 to spend, and that they could take that and he would take the book.  Well, Benjamin was absolutely confounded that the person was asking for paper money.  He knew he had earned the $10, so the person could just have it!

When I heard that story, I realized it's probably time to have a little lesson on how money works and maybe keep a more official record of everything.  Time to take a trip down to the bank and open some bank accounts, I think.

(I did give Ben that $10 to take the next day and buy his book.  Broke my heart and I couldn't refuse! Plus, it wasn't just a book, it was also a french book.  I figure there's not much better to spend their money on!)

Beth Moore/Travis Cottrell

Last week I was able to attend a weekend conference featuring Beth Moore and Travis Cottrell.  Beth Moore is far and away my favourite bible study teacher right now, and has been for the past eight years or so.  When I watch her teach, she is so engaging and dynamic.  But when I listen to her teach, she reaches my intellectual craving when it comes to bible study.  She's got history, geography, cultural references, etymology.  And she studies things at such a slow pace (like, four or five verses a day) that by the end of a ten week study you know that book of scripture so well it's just saturating everything you do.

Travis Cottrell is the man who leads the worship and music portion of her conferences.  He was an opera singer turned worship leader and his voice and passion reflect that background in music.  From the first note my eyes just wouldn't stop overflowing.

As it happened, I was able to get a front row seat, both days (first come, first serve.)  A group of my friends were coming and sitting in a certain section, but with propensity to be early I was within the first dozen through the doors.  I beelined to the front and found two seats (for a line mate I met) right in the front that were unreserved (most of the first 10 rows were reserved for staff and volunteers.)  Although I missed my friends, God knew I needed to be right up front.  There, I was able to look without distraction, and worship as though God and I were one on one.  Every word from every song saturated my soul, and every word from his Word planted itself in my heart.

Friday night I was staying in a hotel, since Saturday started early.  I lingered at the end of the Friday night session, hoping to speak to Travis and the other musicians.  (Not that I ever know what to say.)  I hovered, unsure of how to step in, until another woman near my expressed her nervousness also.  So I just pushed her up ahead and forced her to break the ice (aren't I nice!)  At the end of her conversation with Travis, she mentioned that now she had to figure out what public transit bus to take to get home.

Immediately the spirit whispered to me "offer her a ride."  She was a middle aged woman relying on a cane, and also perhaps partially deaf. I had an empty van and only a hotel to go to.  I wanted to say something so badly, but the introvert in me froze my mouth and I stood there, saying nothing.  The woman turned and left.  I stepped up to Travis, and, of course, had literally nothing to say.  I mumbled a word or two of appreciation and turned tail, booting it out of the arena.

When I finally eased my pace at the front doors, I felt awful.  I knew I needed to give that woman a ride, but there were 5000 women in the huge stadium.  How would I ever find her?  But as I turned around, there she was, struggling up the stairs.  I approached her, saying that I knew I was a stranger but could I offer her a ride? She gratefully accepted.

The adventure began there: she didn't drive and so didn't know the roads very well.  My phone (and GPS) was giving me a strange error I had never seen before and so wasn't working.  The woman knew the major road she was looking for, so we just headed out.  We made a few wrong turns before finding that road, and then we headed off.  I drove about 20 minutes in the direction, which I knew was in the opposite direction of my hotel.  I dropped her off at her front door and then paused.  I hadn't printed directions for the hotel, as I was relying on my phone's GPS.  But I did know it was right near the airport.  So I just rolled down my window and peeked up into the dark night sky.  Before long I saw a few planes overhead and I was able to track the direction in which they were landing.  That gave me enough bearings to drive toward the airport.  Before long the hotel name appeared in blazoned lights, to my utter relief.

As I finally collapsed in bed after a late night dinner, nearly 3 hours after the conference ended, I was grateful that I was given a second chance to follow the promptings of the spirit.  It was a small effort on my part, but a large blessing to that woman.  And a story I will remember for a while.

Still here...still thinking...just not writing

I couldn't say exactly why I haven't come back here in so long.  Perhaps part of it is that my parents have been visiting for the past couple of months here, so I don't have to keep as diligent a journal for them.  Perhaps it's because I've been knee deep in a screenplay I've been commissioned to write.  Perhaps I just haven't been able to surface or sit down long enough to collect my thoughts and get them out in some form of cohesive thought.

The days seem to slide by.  My three year old tries me most days.  I've been trying to supply teach and prepare a university application (am I really doing that?)  I'm running the primary (children's ministry) of 75 children and 15 teachers/leaders.  I joined a community choir and am learning Handel's Messiah for a Christmas concert.  Six people worth of laundry, three meals a day, and somehow, somehow trying to stay on top of keeping this place clean livable.

Colin has seemingly gone from toddler to grade five in the blink of an eye.  Grade five was my very favourite year in school, and just watching him move from the lower grades into these upper ones has been neat.  At his small school, grade 5/6 is one class, and then 7/8 is one class, both taught by male teachers.  They have a greater discipline and higher expectations.  The leap has been an adjustment but one he's taken in stride.

Caleb was seen by a speech therapist.  We hoped to help correct some misformed sounds.  In a surprise twist, we were told that if he sees a specialist they might be able to actually fix his permanently raspy voice.  There are no guarantees, but he's happy to explore the option.

Benjamin is still trying to find his place.  There are times he and Juliette emit the most beautiful laughter as they play endless imaginative games.  But many times he's causing trouble and then bursts into tears because he can't quite keep up with his big brothers.

Juliette is all of a sudden a real little girl.  She talks a mile a minute, with a thousand things to say.  She speaks with such expression that we break out in smiles listening to her most of the time.  Then she turns on that three year old tantrums and I'm at the end of my wits.  And yet, knowing that I'm off to school next year, and then on to a career, I'm trying (trying) to relish these days home with my children.

I hope to be back here more often.  I'm kicking myself in the rear end to kick a few bad habits (those bad TV ones that just waste so much time!)  I've been doing well for a week, getting lots of things done, so hopefully I can capture a bit more of life here.

Jobs, careers, hobbies, interests

I've always had a wide variety of interests and hobbies, many of which could be turned into jobs or careers.  The trouble now is trying to decide what is what.  Over the last couple of months, I feel like one by one, the pieces of the puzzle are finding their place.  A lot of prayer and pondering has gone into this process, and it's not done yet.  But this is the direction I've received so far.

Music is meant to be just for me.  While in the past I have earned money teaching and coaching, I feel strongly that for now it is for my own healing.  I play and sing and write for myself, or to share my gift with others freely.  Right now, I cannot attach a price to this.  Freely I have been given, and freely I must give.

Photography is to be for enjoyment, for learning, and for a small profit.  I am not pursuing clients, but I will take those who approach me.  I am digging into the training I received years ago in university, and teaching myself new techniques in photography and editing.  I charge a nominal amount, really a very small amount compared to what my time and training are worth.  But in this I am able to give family photos to those who might not otherwise be able to afford it, while making a small amount of money on the side.

Teaching is where my next career is going to start.  This will involve two years of university, starting next September (hopefully.)  In a special blessing I received years ago, meant to help and direct my life, I was told that I would be a leader and example in the career I chose, and that the choice would be up to me.  That was a little scary to face, given the pressure for success but also the complete open ended choice.  I have always had a passion for teaching, but I feel that I won't stay in a classroom for 25 years.  Instead, I feel drawn to help in curriculum development or classroom teaching methods, or something like that.

Writing will pay for my schooling.  This is the biggest leap of faith for me, and the most recent puzzle piece to fall into place.  For a moment I doubted the truth of it, because it can be difficult to earn anything while writing, let alone paying for a university education.  A small miracle occurred to solidify my faith; while I was wondering and doubting, praying for a confirmation, I received an email out of the blue.  A producer for whom I wrote a script over a year ago emailed to say he had finally received payment from a client and was sending me my writing fee.  I had given up pursuing this money last year, and had completely forgotten I was owed it.  Then, just when I asked for confirmation that I could write and earn enough money, it arrived.  Currently I'm writing a screenplay, and if it moves forward as expected, I should receive a large payment for it.  There are no guarantees, but my confidence is buoyed.

I have a hundred writing ideas, and a dozen small business ideas, and I've never felt that I would lack ideas or abilities or opportunities to make money.  But it is a new experience to trust God so completely in such important decisions, instead of relying on my own strength and capability.

General Conference

Okay, this is me needing to get something out there.

Twice a year, my church live streams 4 two hour conferences over a Saturday and Sunday.  It's called General Conference.  It is a combination of beautiful music by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and inspirational talks from church leaders.  It's a time to be renewed, find direction and purpose, and be uplifted.

As a kid, this conference was only available by satellite broadcast to our local church building.  while some people would go back and forth to view all four sessions, most families simply brought their kids to the Sunday morning session.  We would bring books to read and pictures to colour and maybe, just maybe, we might tune in to a story or two.

Now, the conference is broadcast over the internet, so we can view it on our own TVs, sitting on our couch (and yes, even in our pyjamas.)  This has made watching all four sessions a whole lot easier for parents with young kids.  Traditionally we let the kids just go about their business while we listen in, still able to change a diaper or get a snack while hearing everything.

Over the past five years or so, there has been a huge shift in Mormon culture to create a slew of activities that help your kids watch not just one two hour session, but all four.  Pinterest exploded with activity packets.  Two current favourites are "colour the speaker's tie" or eat a certain candy whenever the speaker says a certain word.  And over the past few years, I have faithfully prepared elaborate picnics, printed out hundreds of activity pages, provided glue and markers and scissors, and plied my kids with candy.

None of it works.

To colouring ties: "That's not the right shade of green for his tie! I think it has dots.  No, it's diamonds. Dots are easier to draw.  Diamonds are right. Those stripes are too thick. I don't like colouring. That woman isn't wearing a tie."  For two straight hours.

To candy rewards: "Did they just say the word? I think they did. No they didn't. That was the other word. Yes they did! I'm going to eat one. Don't you dare because it wasn't the word!"  For two straight hours.

To clever crafts: "Pass the glue.  He threw the glue at me. Can you clean up the glue that spilled? I cut my shirt with the scissors.  I cut my hair with the scissors. I can't cut the paper with the scissors. She's colouring her arms instead of the paper." For two straight hours.

So I sat myself down one day to figure out why on earth I was doing what I was doing.  I'm not opposed to hard work, but sometimes I forget why I'm doing something.  The goal was to create a love of conference in my children, a desire as they grow to listen to these inspiring words.  But what I was doing was not doing that.  Not at all.  The result of what I was doing was four kids pumped up on sugar, frustrated from the crafts, and nobody hearing a single word.

I realized that I love watching conference, and I did not grow up being made to watch it.  the love came as a grew to an appropriate age for the kind of activity it is.  I was getting caught up in Pinterest and Facebook land, and by a style of learning that, while seems to work for others, was clearly not working for us.

So this weekend we simply had the conference on.  James and I watched what we could, and listened to the rest if we had to step out of the room.  The kids came in and out, watching pieces here and there. Somehow all three boys heard the story about young boys digging a huge hole in a field and creating a mud puddle in which to swim.  Juliette fell asleep next to me for a bit.  There were no tricks or gimmicks.  And I have to trust that one day my children will love it like I do.

Long breaks

These long breaks between entries are not intentional.  September was supposed to bring with it a return to schedule, and a moment to breathe again with the boys back in school.  Somehow I just haven't found the groove yet.  Supply teaching, working out at the gym, writing, working...it has just gone by in a blur.

Juliette started preschool, which gives me one morning a week to run errands without a three year old in tow.  This has been the most difficult part of mothering so far: four kids who just don't do well in large spaces. My children crave the freedom to run, and that just doesn't work in a Wal-Mart, or a parking lot, or the grocery store.  The first day Juliette was at preschool I must have hit a dozen stops in less than two hours.  It was so stress-free I relished it.  It was supposed to be my writing time (a looming deadline is fast approaching) but it was too tempting.

Speaking of writing, I'm head deep in writing a screenplay.  The first draft was completed back in June, but a complete revamp is now underway.  As a writer, I have a dozen new story ideas a week and I can't wait until I have some time to get some of them on paper.

Soccer is about to start up again.  Colin and Caleb both had rep tryouts, and both made their teams.  We really enjoyed that part of our summer last year - lazy summer nights sitting by the field, chatting with friends, the younger ones at the parks, watching the boys play their hearts out.

I'm gearing up to apply for teacher's college, starting next fall.  I've had so much encouragement, from teacher friends and from teaching professionals who have seen me supply.  While I don't know that I'll stay in the classroom for my whole career, this is definitely the first step.

After a decade away, I've rejoined the cell phone league.  I still have trouble remembering to charge the thing and make sure I take it with me, but we've ditched the landline at home, so hopefully before long it will start to stick.

And finally, I moved our piano from the playroom into the living room.  The poor think has been gathering dust because I can only play it when the children are all otherwise occupied, but that usually means they are in the playroom, which makes it difficult for me to actually sit at the piano.  This year I joined a choir and we are preparing Handel's Messiah for the Christmas season, but I've been sorely missing my musical outlet as of late.  Time to remedy that.