“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise. Sing unto the Lord with the harp; with the harp, and the voice of a psalm. With trumpets and sound of cornet make a joyful noise before the Lord, the King…Let the floods clap their hands: let the hills be joyful together.”
Psalms 98:4-6, 8
I’m pretty sure as we sing in church as this little boy is singing, with eyebrows raised and the words coming from deeper than just our throats, we grow in joy. As I play my violin this season, I give thanks that the Lord has given me a means to express how I really feel, and allow others to experience deep emotion together.
By definition, milestones are evenly spaced, but sometimes we can’t pace and space events. Milestones hurl past Richard and me as we careen towards the end of the 2019. This decade is ending in a whirl of notes, color, celebrations, and plans. I don’t just want to keep up. I want to enjoy each step.
Hopefully these pictures will help me relive these moments when I have more time, and experience the things I had to miss while I chased a milestone down a different road.
Tin Tin has been a favorite at our house for a long time. In fact, I wonder why we haven’t thought to do it before now. It’s delightful when a thirteen year old smiles because of a costume.
This week was the last Court of Honor with Richard as Scoutmaster. He prepared a slideshow of the places the boys have been in 2019 and it was impressive. They’ve camped in snow, rain, desert, mountains, and sand.
This was the last song in the slideshow. (The video is not anything. It’s just the only one I could find with the right version of the song.) It was a sweet goodbye to his Scouts who will move on next January to new leaders.
A fixture is something you think is necessary and useful in a house or schedule, and once it’s there, it becomes part of the landscape. You hardly think of it.
I am challenging many “fixtures” in our home and lifestyle.
The computer desk in the kitchen for kids? Not needed. They now use the kitchen table and my laptop on which I control access.
Books we own but did not enjoy and will not read again: donating those.
Fabric from the past twenty-four years: down to one box.
Cards and letters: while so meaningful to me, the objects themselves don’t bring happiness. It’s relationships that do that. I am parting with many of these pieces of paper.
Collections: what can’t be displayed and enjoyed is not needed.
Papers showing our children’s home education: I have learned most of these are not important to them, and just a few treasures are important to me.
Craft supplies: many of these have not been used since Paige was a little girl. Most can be donated.
Ultimate Frisbee: Just one night a week now, in a city league, not the school team.
Piano lesson times: changed to fit MY schedule better. This has made a huge difference in my stress levels, and we found times to make everyone happy.
Working through these objects and activities is also making me work through my history, my dreams, and my insecurities. It’s no surprise that a home is the best place to find out what a person is really dealing with. Apparently, I have real issues letting go of reminders of my children when they were young. This is silly because while they were adorable and smart and fun back then, they are even more interesting now. I love the new depth possible in relationships with my adults and teens, and it is so exciting to watch them soar. I am also learning to stand up for my personal needs when it comes to scheduling the kids and taking on obligations. I cannot run the pace that others run. For my gifts to flourish, I require a lot of stillness and order, and a good, real, in person conversation with someone every single day.
Just as I was surprised last year by a serendipitous sunflower at Daniel’s departure, another one popped up in the garden on time for his one year mark. It brought me to my knees right there on the lawn. God knows our days.
Our boys performed at a piano recital on Monday night. Timothy played a Debussy piece and Mark played a Beethoven. We took them out for Chinese food and someone asked if Timothy was on his way to a mission. Aaack! Not yet! Mark pushed his food around his plate. He is full of cares.
I walked into the middle school with Mark this week, and through the halls of the elementary school to visit my friend’s Harry Potter themed classroom. I did not walk into the high school, but corresponded with one of Tim’s teachers. Still, I am in denial that they will be in school again on Monday. My homeschool memories clutch my heart and make me cry a little each August. Was I really so bad for my kids?
Tim invited a girl over to watch a movie and we all felt awkward and I found myself baking brownies as a bridge. Even their fudgy goodness couldn’t span the gap, but they were delicious.
This summer, the lawn care and landscaping business run by Tim and his friends has kept him outdoors all day, six days a week sometimes. This week, in addition to mowing, they decided to offer a garbage can washing service. Tim was in charge of transportation of the cans, just emptied by the garbage truck, to a new location where another boy pressure washed them. I have texts from happy customers about their sweet smelling cans. This is life with Timothy: unpredictable, but excellent.
Paige moves home tomorrow for a few weeks before her semester begins. There will be three “children” home for the next few weeks, with only one abroad.
Backpacking nearby, Richard is able to send me photos of the evening with Mark. What a blessing.
I remember the last night at girls camp in Arizona, I moved to a new tent by myself to make space for the Bishop’s wife to stay. That night, I noticed that there was cell service in this isolated tent, and Richard and I were able to have a precious conversation that I needed so much.
That was seven years ago, just before our move to Utah. Many miles and experiences later, the highlights of my summer are still moments of connection with Richard, whether on long walks or during fleeting calls from campsites with spotty service.
As I wrote the last paragraph, Richard called from his hammock, somewhere near Brighton. All is well there.
We were busy at the Weber, my sisters’ families had gone home, and we were running out of time to do the Virginia Reel. My mom and I debated whether we had the energy to play Turkey in the Straw 200 times, but if you look at the faces of the dancers, I think you can see why we do this each year.
One surprise was this subtle, powerful song was the audience favorite at the Pioneer Day concert I attended.
Last Sunday, when I made my trusty plan for the week, I thought my highlight would be a small Primary Presidents’ luncheon for twelve women. It was to be a good, but basic week. But then, invitations came. All week, I have been surprised by the expansion of my plans.
One big change in plans was I was asked to accompany someone in church on the violin, only the music was written for the cello. Richard watched me trying to transpose music by hand and took charge and produced the music I needed using the computer. He intervened quickly, without my asking, and this was so helpful!
Another small surprise was being invited to perform our song at two family gatherings last night after playing the song in church. It was an honor to be invited to these two homes for a few minutes.
Do we know how powerful a home and family feel to someone stepping in? Even though I came from my own cozy evening with family, I felt honored and gifted by the family feeling (the Spirit of the Lord) in each of these homes.
Friends, I am certain that your brand of hospitality and your family, even if it’s one person, have power and goodness. That may be a surprise to you, but I know it is true. Invite someone to your home for lemonade or music or a meal. They will not forget it.
I heard lots of great music this weekend from my family: a trombone quartet at a State music festival, a piano solo by Richard at church, and a concert at the Cathedral of the Madeleine with our niece in the choir. And my father in law commented on our family picture wall all afternoon. That was a sweet melody, too.
I am posting this piece again on this Holy Week, because it captures the meekness, agony, and triumph we commemorate at Easter. If you want to know more about the composition, the second video is an interview with the composer who set out to write a piece using common liturgical phrases with simplicity and power, enough to “knock people’s socks off.” He wrote it by candlelight in a cabin on an island. “There is no electricity or anything in that piece.”
You don’t have to know the words to feel the power of this piece, so listen in a solitary place and feel what the music has to share with you.
Mark and Tim had a band concert featuring middle school and high school bands. At the end, when all bands combined to play a song, we noticed our boys were able to sit close together. Mark plays the trumpet and Timothy plays the trombone. It was a great concert.
