Em: The Lark Ascending

Last night I went to the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra concert at Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church (and drove halfway there!) My parents get in free because they usually work as ushers, and I like to come along and help. These concerts have been happening a couple of times a year for three years now, and it's really gotten me more interested in classical music. It's a whole lot more exciting to sit twenty feet away from one of the best violinists in the country--to witness the emotion of music--than to hear it on the radio, where you have the option to turn the volume down. I look at these amazingly talented people and think--as a violin student--"I got a long ways to go...but maybe I'll get there someday."


Last night there was a beautiful viola solo piece (I didn't recognize the composer), and I decided right then and there that women performers should never have to wear heels when playing classical music--it's too dangerous. You take a fall and you're toast. I love the low, rich tone of the viola--put that on my never-ending list of instruments to play.


The big piece of the night though was Ralph Vaughan Williams' The Lark Ascending, which was inspired by a poem of the same name. I was sitting way up in the fourth row, and hearing this lovely, delicate song was unlike anything I had heard before. It was a face-melter. I hoped I wasn't the only one slightly bobbing her head with the music, but even if I was I wouldn't have cared. I could just picture a little bird flying around (kind of like the feather in Forrest Gump). We have a recording of it at home that I listened to again today. I love what the liner notes have to say about it after they've printed the poem: No other description of the music is necessary. That's how awesome it is!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsOOQB0uA5Q The announcer is annoying but the performance is beautiful. Check it out.

Traveling Companions

My traveling companions met tonight for a final preparation meeting before our trip in October. We have one more packing meeting scheduled, and then we depart for 16 days together in Tanzania.

We talked about covenant tonight. The ancient covenant between Abraham and God. The covenant relationship between our congregation and the congregation in Tungamalenga. The covenant we make with one another as traveling companions: to remember that we are traveling not as tourists but as ambassadors of our congregation, to put the needs of the group above our individual needs, and to put the needs of our hosts and this partnership even higher. We agree to roll with whatever comes our way, to be flexible about itinerary, to go out of our comfort zone every day.

The conversation reminded me how dependent we are on each other in a situation far from home. We're traveling together, and no one gets left behind, no matter what. There's an acknowledgement of the reality that the success of the trip is dependent on the group and on every member of the group.

I think of my last five trips, and the companions on those journeys. The first trip, we were all new to this place and to this partnership. We had a wonderful doctor in the group, who each morning would greet us at breakfast with, " how did you sleep" and "so does anyone have any diarrhea?" We got to know one another really well, and we looked out for one another. There have been great photographers, and quiet people who had amazing one on one conversations as we rode the bus from one village to the next. There have been teens who organized games with the village kids--even though neither could speak a word of the other's language. There have been nurses who looked out for members of the group and then spent the day doing rounds with the village doctor, treating diseases they'd only read about before.

My companions on this journey are an amazing group of women. My daughter Em, 16, with her gift for languages and music and her resilience. A couple years ago when she first visited Tanzania, she walked four kilometers to a village even on a day when she was sick, and then she led our singing. S, a retired early childhood teacher who walks faster than I can walk when I am on a moving walkway at the airport. L, our nurse who has already helped us prepare for a healthy trip. Pastor D, whose gift of pastoral care will be sorely needed at this time, and whom I treasure as a co-coordinator of this partnership.

Em: Important Question

The question of the day for me-- no, more like month-- is this: What happens if you die before you return your library books?

Not that I plan on dying. But really. This random thought has been rolling around in my brain for a few weeks now. I don't even remember how it came up. I just want an answer. If I died unexpectedly, my family would be too busy making funeral arrangements to return a few books, right? So they are overdue for a few days, and then they are eventually forgotten about (what with everybody too busy grieving still). Does the library have to be told of my death so that my overdue fees can be forgiven, or does the city pick up the tab? I like libraries, but I never thought of them as forgiving. Maybe my next of kin just has to pay for it. They probably wouldn't like that, because I always get lots of books. It's really been bothering me for some reason. I've been afraid to ask my local librarians, because it is a kind of wacky thing to ask.

I heard awhile ago on Minnesota Public Radio that the longest overdue library book was checked out in the late 1800's or early 1900's (can't remember exactly when, but MPR doesn't lie). The overdue fees were probably in the thousands.

Do you think there's an answer to my question? If anybody has any idea, let me know, then I'll start thinking about better things, like whether Goofy is a dog or a human, and how to bring peace to the world.

Em: The Other Side

So on Wednesday night, church choir started again!

I walked in with my parents (Mom-- first soprano, Dad-- baritone) and wondered where I should sing this year. I had previously been a first soprano, but I realized I couldn't always sing a high G when the music told me to. After a bit of pondering, I decided on being an alto. The women around me were very welcoming. "Welcome to the Other Side!" they said. "Glad you saw the light!"

The Senior Choir is primarily made up of adults.There's no rule against us youth joining, it's just that nobody had done it in a long time. My sister was the last one to do it two years ago.

Then she went to college, and back at home I decided to join the Choir too. I was ready for more challenging music. Thing is, all my friends were expecting me at the youth choir. The director told them I had gone to Senior Choir, and one week later two of my fellow highschoolers were at rehearsal with me. Eventually there were five youth in a sea of... older people. Everybody seemed happy to have us though, and most of us are back again this year.

This week I had to get used to singing harmony all over again, although it eventually came back to me. It was fun! When we were done with rehearsal, my soprani friends assumed mock outrage and asked, "What's with the defection?" "You're not singing with us anymore?" I had gone over to the Dark Side. Oh well. The Dark Side is my place...for now.

Anticipation

Em & I had our travel clinic appointments this morning. One more item on the pre-travel to-do list checked off.

Over the past seven years, I've had my arms stuck a few times. Yellow fever, typhoid, meningitis, hepatitis A, B, and previously C; tetanus, influenza. I'm caught up for another year or two. Just had the fall flu shot today. If H1N1 is available before we leave, I'll get that too.

Em had three pokes, since she needed a new typhoid and the last dose of hep A, plus the flu shot. Not as bad as the last time she went, when she had six shots the same day.

The travel clinic nurses are really good about going over all the precautions for safe and healthy travel. While we're in Tanzania, we'll only drink bottled water, remember to brush our teeth with bottled water, and we'll close our eyes in the shower when we're lucky enough to have one.

We'll skip the salads, eating only cooked food, or fruits that we can peel. No dairy unless it's a ceremonial gift that would be rude to refuse. And we'll bring our stock of routine medications....Pepto, Immodium, Cipro, Advil, antibiotic cream. We'll wear sunscreen and protect ourselves from mosquitoes. We'll take our malaria prophylactic every morning. Sometimes when we visit the rural clinics, I have the feeling that I carry more medications with me on a two week trip than their doctors might dispense for a whole day's worth of patients.

I'm getting excited about the trip, thinking about the work to be done, the relationships to renew, the people who feel like family. But I always get a little dread in my heart before a trip, because I've attended a funeral on nearly every one of my trips. Who will it be this time, the child or parent of a dear friend? We've already heard of a huge loss, with the dormitory fire that killed a dozen students last month. We'll visit their families, meet with students who were injured, find out ways we can support them. And as always, we'll see the world through different eyes, trying to make sense out of the abundance we take for granted and the scarce resources for which our friends are so very grateful.

Setting our musical goals

My first week of piano lessons is done. I have amazing students, ages five to seventy five.

I've been asking students to identify some long and short term goals. Finish the sentence: someday, I want to play.....

In five years, I want to play....

This year, I'm going to learn....

And the reponses I'm getting blow me away.

Some day, I want to play.....Beethoven Sonatas, the Pachelbel Canon, Fur Elise (okay, no surprises there), in the jazz band, duets with my friend, for church....

In five years, I want.....to play for people in the hospital, to be the drum major of the marching band, to play the Entertainer....

This year, I'm going to.... learn my bass clef notes (YES!!!), finish the level one books and move on to level two, make a DVD of me playing my favorite songs, practice every day....

This piano teacher's job is to make those dreams come true. Wish me luck.

Em: Tanzania...Again

After a year or so of hard work, earning ,saving and praying, I am thrilled to find myself getting ready to go to Tanzania again. In October, my mom and I will set off for East Africa with three other women to visit our partner congregation in the village of Tungamalenga. After my first trip in 2007, I never thought I'd be back so soon!

We'll fly via Detroit, Amsterdam, then land in Dar es Salaam, TZ. We'll spend the night there in a hostel by the Indian Ocean, then the next day we brave the 8- to 10-hour bus ride south to Iringa, a city of about 100,000 people. We'll have lots of work to do, people to see, and people to get to know. After a couple of days, we'll drive three more hours south to Tungamalenga. We'll visit preaching points spread out around the villages, visit the schools, the dispensary, meet with many people, and accept wonderful hospitality. When I was there, I fully realized the meaning of the phrase "community of Christ." We may speak different languages, have different cultures and customs, but this is something that brings us together. We are bega kwa bega-- Swahili for "shoulder to shoulder."

The two weeks I spent there were and will be a humbling experience. The people I met there were amazing, and they are my rafiki-- friends. When you come home, you know you have family halfway across the world. What I found difficult was re-entry into my own culture. Air-conditioning! The waste of perfectly good things! Target! The bananas aren't as sweet!People think Africa's only story to tell is poverty!.... The list goes on and on. I know it'll still be tough. But I cannot wait for this adventure.

Em: Books

I just finished reading three good books in the last couple of days. One is called The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman, who is a British author now living in the Twin Cities. The Graveyard Book is a take-off on The Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling, and Gaiman puts his own magical/fantasy twist to this novel for children. A boy named Bod (short for Nobody) is raised and educated by a graveyard of ghosts after his parents and sister are murdered when he is a toddler. He evades the murderer, and lives in safety in the graveyard, but the murderer keeps searching for Bod. I don't want to give anything away, but eventually they meet up again under certain circumstances, and Bod has to accept the fact that he is alive, all his friends and family are ghosts, and he must join the living out in the world. It all sounds a bit dark, but it's a very touching story, and the universe that Gaiman has created is wonderful. Any kid (or adult) who likes books like Harry Potter would find Neil Gaiman's books enjoyable. He can write a really good scary, suspensful and hilarious story.

The second book I finished was Leaves from the Notebook of a Tamed Cynic, by Lutheran theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. I found it very interesting, although I cannot possibly explain everything that he says. I often find myself trying to translate Theology Language into Em Language, and not always coming out with an answer. But he is a very social justice-oriented person of faith, which I can identify with right there. Living in Detroit in the 1920's, he was an outspoken critic of the working conditions at all the car factories and things. In his collected journal entries he talks about the difficulties and joys of being a pastor and the positive role religion can play in our society. I first heard about him when I was at Augsburg College in MPLS for a week of theology-delving with other youth (WAHOO!). We were studying the life and work of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Niebuhr happened to be one of his seminary professors in New York. Sounded like a cool guy. 'Twas a very cool book.

The third and final book I have conquered is Tears of the Giraffe, by Alexander McCall Smith. It's one of the books from the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. I love how Smith writes about Botswana, where he was born, and how it is not a doom and gloom African story. It doesn't ignore the fact that there's doom and gloom in parts of Africa, on the contrary, Smith talks a bit about the white people's philanthropy philosphy through the character of private detective Precious Ramotswe, about orphans, disease, and equality. At the same time though, it's still a light hearted, amusing--but smart-- mystery story. I always enjoy his books.

Ordinary Days

I like weekends, holidays, and vacations just fine. But it's my ordinary days that really make me grateful. Days when I wake up, stretch, feel the energy to exercise or at least remember that I'll feel more energized when the exercise is done. Days with my kids learning and reading and talking, days when the sun shines or it doesn't, days when I look at my to-do list and feel a sense of purpose that makes me dig in and get things done. Days with students who sit at my piano bench and show me what they've done all week. Days that end with my head so full of memories and plans that I have to just sit and chill a bit. Ordinary days that, in their routines and mundane details, reveal the shape and purpose and trajectory of our lives.

Eight years ago was a day that started like most others, with some early morning students, and my own kids showering, reading, listening to the radio. We heard the news, we turned on the TV, we watched and cried, prayed. And an ordinary day turned into something else. I remember feeling "on guard" for several months, vulnerable. Then the build up to the war began, and the feeling intensified, so much seemed beyond control.

Today most of my energy is once again focused on my very ordinary life. Living, learning, working, volunteering, being a friend and mom and daughter and wife all take some time and care. And let's be real, 9/11 affected my life in distant, not intimate ways.

But an anniversary like this comes around, and there's something that pulls at me...be a better person, take a little more care, appreciate the little things, do what you can to make things better in the world, in your ordinary way. Play on...

Em: Talking About Music

Talking about music is like dancing about architecture. ~~ Frank Zappa

Mr. Zappa may be correct in some regards, but I prefer not to take advice from a man who names his children Dweezil and Moon Unit. Here I go, talking about music:

Right now, I'm working on a few awesome piano pieces. One is Arabesque No. 2 by Claude Debussy, a very fast paced song meant for someone with much larger hands than my own. I'm trying not to over-practice it, or else my hands hurt. Once I learn it though, it will blow your mind! I actually like it better than his first and more popular arabesque. The other song is by Haydn. I just got it from my teacher this week, but I can't remember the name of it! It's in the key of G, if that helps. She gave me a bunch of songs to choose from to learn for the state contest in February, but I think I really like the Haydn.

All other music studies go well. When I play violin it doesn't sound like a mass of dying cats anymore, and when I play accordion it no longer sounds like a bunch of honking. Success! One can only take so much accordion music, though. I haven't pulled out my harmonica in months. I have one of those things that holds it, so I could play guitar and harmonica simultaneously, but it's like acrobatics for the brain. Takes a lot of concentration. One time--after lots and lots of practice-- I managed to play guitar and harmonica while also tapping a tambourine with my foot. It was an odd sight to see, but not exactly a bad thing to hear.

I'm surprised that the neighbors have never come to our door with torches and pitchforks, telling us to stop playing Beethoven at 7:30 in the morning (Mom, not me), stop the screeching violin, no more Johnny Cash and "Waltzing Matilda" on the accordion, and please turn down the radio. But that's never happened. No neighborhood petition, no nothing. One time, the guy on the other side of the fence said he actually liked to sit on his deck and listen to my mom's piano playing in the evening. But that's not surprising, I guess.