My Husband’s Legacy

I have been hugged by many people for many different reasons but today’s hug was a first!

This coming Sunday I will be playing for the worship service at a local church whose organist is out of town for a wedding.  Since this church has a much more formal format of worship than my own church, I went by the office to get a copy of their bulletin for Sunday to be more familiar with the order of service.

As I introduced myself to the church secretary and began to tell her I would be providing music for Sunday’ service, she quickly interrupted me and asked if she could give me a hug.

Now I like hugs.  But usually I like hugs from close friends and family only.  I’m not into hugging people I have just met.

Still, how could I refuse?

As I hugged her I could not help but wonder why she clearly wanted to hug me.

  • Was she grateful that I was going to miss my own church on Sunday to provide music for her church?
  • Was she some kind of nut that hugged strangers?
  • Was my smile so dazzling that it invoked such feelings of friendship?

When the hug was over, she explained why she felt such a connection with me.

No – it was not anything about me.

  • It was not my wonderful generosity to help the church out.
  • It was not my beautiful smile.
  • It was not my friendly personality.

She had met my husband earlier this year when he came by to introduce himself to her pastor.  Being a retired pastor, my husband visited many of the churches when we moved to this small town.  He loves the fellowship of other ministers and he just loved seeing the beautiful old churches in our new town.

She shared how much my husband’s visits meant to her and her pastor.

Her comments about the joy and encouragement his visits brought reminded me once again that no matter how old we grow, we can still contribute to others.  My husband just turned 79.  He can no longer pastor, no longer preach sermons in church, but he can still minister and bless the lives of others.

So I thank God for that hug!  And for the reminder that as long as I have breath, I can and will be used of God to help others.

My husband will not leave our children a great fortune when he dies.  But I am thankful for the legacy he will leave them.

“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.” —Shannon L. Alder

 

 

 

Here Comes the Sun!

After a long winter – today the sun is out!  It’s 71 degrees.

So let’s celebrate the sun!  I’m so ready for flowers, birds and walks in the park.

Are you?  Enjoy the sun – and the music!

 

The Power and Magic of Music

Every other Friday I go to a local assisted living facility and play for 30-40 minutes.  I play all kinds of music.  Old songs like “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and “You are My Sunshine” get them singing along with me.  They love to listen so songs from old movies like “The Sound of Music” and “Exodus.”  The program is always ended with some old hymns, songs that only those over 60 even know.

Over the years as I have played in these facilities, perhaps the most requested song is “In the Garden.”  The song speaks of being with Christ in the garden but as I play it I envision the beautiful garden I had at my former home.

As I play for the residents of these facilities, some are very alert, sing along and truly enjoy the music.  Others are clearly struggling with physical or mental difficulties, and do not sing along but they clearly enjoy the music.  Then there are the few who do not seem to have any idea where they are or what is going on sometimes falling asleep as I play.

Yet I find those are the ones who are the greatest blessing to me when they do respond to the music.

Years ago my husband and I did a service at a nursing home in Edwardsville, IL.  One woman would be wheeled in by one of the nursing staff.  She sat with her head slumped to one side and appeared to have no idea we were even there.  But one Sunday we sang the old gospel hymn “There is Power in the Blood.”  Instantly this woman sat up, smiled and began singing along perfectly in a clear and beautiful voice.  As soon as the song was over, she slumped back down in her chair and appeared to once again have no idea where she was or what was going on.  Seeing this we sang that song every week and she always “came to life” at the sound of that song.

Today I saw that same thing happen.  One lady in the music room appeared to be totally unaware of her surroundings.  When I began singing “In the Garden” she came to life and sang in a VERY loud voice.

My heart sang with joy as I left the music center at the end of the program and headed down the hall to the front door.  She was sitting in the hallway just outside her room and I could hear her all the way down the hall as she continued to sing in a VERY loud voice “In the Garden.

There is magic in music.

Where words leave off, music begins.” 
― Heinrich Heine

“Music is the universal language of mankind.” 
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.” 
― Alphonse de Lamartine

“My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary.” 
― Martin Luther

Why Sunday Morning Worship Speaks to Me

In Christian circles we use the word “worship” to often refer to the twenty or so minutes we spend on Sunday morning singing songs.

Depending on the church you attend the music may be very formal with hymn books, organ and perhaps a choir.  It may consist of words projected overhead on a screen with guitars, drums and a small group of singers leading.

You may sing hymns written hundred of years ago by Charles Wesley, Fanny Crosby or Isaac Watts.  You may sing contemporary songs written by Chris Tomlin, Michael W Smith or Darlene Zschech.

worship 2worship

It is amazing how churches have been divided by the style of music played on Sunday morning.  I have shared some thoughts on that subject in the past.

Worship – What’s Your Style?

Worship – What’s Your Style – Part II

But worship is much more than that.  Realizing that is important if we are to grow in the Lord for only twenty or so minutes once a week  is not enough to keep strong the bond with us and Jesus.

Still, I find those twenty minutes on Sunday morning are such a blessing to me.  First, it is encouraging to sing with fellow believers and hear their voices raised with mine declaring our faith and God’s goodness.

This Sunday I was reminded how important the sense of community really is and my heart was so encouraged.  I try to stay focus on the music and the words and keep my attention on the Lord.   But I noticed a young family worshiping across the aisle from where I sat.  They are a young couple with a small child.  What a joy it was to me when I saw this young couple clearly  focused on worshiping God as the father held their little daughter.  What an encouragement to know we still have  young families loving and serving God.

I am also amazed how many times when the choice of songs seem to speak directly to me.  Songs of joy and praise when I come to church and everything is going great in my life.  Songs of encouragement when my week has been stressful.

Right now I am in a physical struggle facing possible surgery and dealing with pain that I have experienced now almost four years.  Pain that is only getting worse.  The worship leader who chose the songs did not know that but it was as if he had read my mind and picked songs just for me.

These songs have reminded how God has always been there for me – and I will be playing these songs over and over in the weeks to come.

Hope you might take time to listen to these songs also and let them encourage you.

 

 

I

Music in a Small Town

Moving from a metropolitan area to a small town I thought I would miss the great musical opportunities I had in the Quad Cities.  My husband and I had season tickets to the Quad City Symphony and we enjoyed excellent music with well-known guest artists.

But recently I discovered great music can be found anywhere.  This month we had the pleasure of listening to a “Brass Holidays” concert by the Mountain Town Band.

brass

This elite brass ensemble was formed in 2016 and includes university trained musicians from all over middle Michigan.  Since St Johns is in the middle of the state, they have chosen to conduct their practices here – and also to give performances here two to three times a year.  They are a brass ensemble in the British brass band tradition, successfully blending impeccable musical virtuosity with an enjoyable audience-friendly ambience.

I was not familiar with the brass band tradition but after listening to this great music, I decided to check it out.

brass in

I found that the Brass Band dates back to the early nineteenth century and England’s Industrial Revolution.  As the workers began to organize for more wages and better working hours, employers organized and supported bands as a way to actually decrease their  political activity.  Slowly as music departments began to develop at universities performance improved.  There were 750 brass bands in England by 1860.   Slowly these brass bands have expanded all over the world.

By the start of the Civil War there were brass bands throughout the USA.  Bands were used at rallies to encourage enlistment.  Bands were used to improve morale and were even sent in with the infantry to play during battles.

band 2

8th New York State Militia Band, 1861

Today there are hundreds of brass bands in the USA.   There is an North American Brass Band Association (NABBA) dedicated to the promotion and development of the British-style brass band movement in North America

If you get a chance to hear a brass band, don’t pass it up.  You will enjoy it I guarantee.

Wisdom from Zoe

Love playing school with my granddaughter.  Although we have to play by her rules.

She tells me what character I will be – and she tells me what I am supposed to say.

So really I don’t have to use my imagination – I just follow Zoe’s scrip.

This week we had a music class.

She was the teacher – Mrs. Z.

Our stuffed animal friend, Willie, was himself – Willie.

I was Susie Q, a not very bright student.

student

She drew the treble clef on the chalk board and proceeded to explain to me how to remember what notes were on the different lines.

clef

For anyone who has had some music lessons you know we were taught that little sentence

Good boys do fine always

to help us remember the notes on the five lines were g – b – d – f – a.

She said we needed to come up with other ways to remember the notes.  Since Susie Q is not too bright, she could not think of any other sentences to remember the notes.  (Maybe that’s because Susie Q is really not a young student, but an old grandma whose mind is stuck on that sentence she learned years ago as a young child.)

But not to worry.  Mrs. Z is very intelligent and she had a new way to remember it.

Good burgers deserve fries always.

After this we had a math class and Mrs. Z tried to show Susie Q how to do the “new” math.

math

Needless to say, school ended very quickly after that as Susie Q could not understand the new math at all.

By the time school was over, Susie Q was exhausted and needed a nap.

Mrs. Z a/k/a Zoe must have enjoyed it because she told her mother:

I need a sleepover at Grandma’s.

We have set a date and I will need to spend some time trying to think of a new sentence for the treble clef lines, try to understand the new math and – most importantly – get a good nap in before she comes.

granma

 

 

 

The Best Thanksgiving Turkey

It was 1991 and my husband and youngest daughter were spending our first Thanksgiving on the mission field.  Homesickness was filling my heart as I remembered all the Thanksgivings of the past spent with family and friends.  A table loaded with turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, biscuits and all the other goodies we enjoyed that time of year.  Visions of pumpkin pie, pecan pie and my mother’s delicious chocolate pie danced through my head.

But the thing I was missing most was  the loved ones that gathered around that table.  This year would be the first Thanksgiving for my youngest granddaughter.  How I longed to see her taste that pumpkin pie for the first time, to hold her on my lap and rock her to sleep.

At first we thought we would try to duplicate the American thanksgiving dinner.  However, it soon became clear that it would be difficult to find many of the ingredients for that meal on the island of Panay.  That did not mean our Thanksgiving meal would not be good – just not the usual menu.

As the holiday grew near one of the members of a Bible class my husband taught every week excitedly told us he had a turkey for us for Thanksgiving.  He knew it was an American tradition and he was so happy to surprise us with this gift.

How exciting for us!  A real turkey for our Thanksgiving.  The day before the holiday he arrived with our turkey.  For us crazy Americans we had expected a nice fat frozen turkey.  Imagine our surprise when we opened the gate and there he stood with a real, live turkey!

Questions immediately went through my mind:

  • how would we kill this thing?
  • who would kill this thing?

When I was a little girl my mother had raised chickens.  She would chop their heads off and then my sister and I would help pluck the feathers.  Mother would then cut the birds up and our freezer would be stocked with chicken for the winter.  However, I was not about to chop that turkey’s head off and one look at my husband told me he was not going to do it either.

  • how would we fix it if we even were able to kill it?

We had no oven, certainly no deep fryer.  Our kitchen consisted of two burners on a small stove with a propane tank for fuel.

Finally, the turkey looked like it had been on a strict diet.  It was the skinniest bird I had ever seen.  Even if we somehow managed to kill it and find a way to fix it I was certain it would be a tough old bird.

What to do?  We could not refuse the gift that this man was so clearly excited about giving us.  To do so would have not only been rude and hurtful, but would damage our relationship with the community.

We took the bird and said thank you.  After he left we held a family council.  What do you do with a turkey you can’t use?

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Our daughter leading the kids on our street in a song

Then the problem was solved.  The kids on our street were always in and out of our house.  That morning one of the young boys came by and when he saw our turkey, his eyes lit up.  You could tell he thought we were so lucky to have a turkey.  His family’s meal would consist of a small bowl of rice – just like they had every day.  To him this skinny old turkey looked like a gift from heaven.  So we asked his mother if she would like a turkey for Thanksgiving.

How excited she was!  I have no idea how she cooked the turkey but she assured me she could do it.

So we gave her the turkey and we fixed tuna fish steaks with rice topped off with mangoes and the most delicious watermelon I ever tasted.

I have often thought back to that Thanksgiving as I once again enjoy a table loaded with all the goodies we associate with this holiday.  I think of that family that rejoiced and enjoyed a turkey that we as Americans felt was not good enough for us.  Although I have had many delicious meals with turkey before and since then, I realize that was the best turkey I ever had.  Because it was given to us out of love and gratitude from a man who had so little to give.  Given to us who in comparison had so much.

My prayer this holiday is:

Lord, forgive me for taking my blessings at being born in this country for granted.  Forgive me for thinking more of myself and spending so much money on me while others in the world go to bed hungry every night.  Help me to reach out and help the homeless here in my own country and reach out to help the hungry around the world.  I cannot do much – but I can do something.  I cannot save every hungry child, but I can help one or two.  Help me to be truly thankful!