The Song of the Heart

Music is sacred to me. I suppose it’s the way I was raised; the way good music was engrained in me; the satisfaction I’ve felt from developing musical talent; the hundreds of undeniable spiritual witnesses I’ve experienced through music, that makes it sacred.

It’s what makes me cringe at watching musicals like Grease or Mama Mia or other “fun”, light-hearted plays that use something I consider so sacred, to discuss worldly, vulgar issues. Don’t get me wrong. I can certainly be found listening to some alternative rock on any occasion - music that can be open to many interpretations.

I’ve been disappointed since moving to AZ that I can not find a radio station that I like. Preferably something that doesn’t play any 80’s music in their mix. (I just can’t stand 80’s).

I have, instead found two or three Christian Rock stations. And while I miss being able to sing along to the radio, I have been surprisingly delighted by the selection. Occasionally, there will even be a contemporary, well-known song on there that I have heard many times. One that I had originally thought was about a romance. But suddenly, playing on a Christian station, I see how the lyrics can totally apply to a person’s love for Christ or His love for us. That has been fun.

Anyway…

Music is sacred to me.

I spent a good part of my afternoon curled up on my son’s bed during nap time - crying.

His room is the one farthest away from our neighbor’s backyard. The neighbor that for weeks now has been bombarding my home with HATE. My walls literally shake with it. And I just couldn’t endure it any longer.

Our neighbors are either deaf or wish to become so, and blare their backyard radio to the loudest decibel. This isn’t so bad when the older parents are playing fun oldies or even their native Spanish music. But when the younger generation is home, the atmosphere is thick with animosity.

And I can’t escape it. Even from within my house, I can hear every curse word, every degrading remark, every line of explicit smut and filth coming from the booming wrap “music”.

I can feel the spirit immediately leave and I become filled with such animosity. My temper is shortened, I have no patience, my thoughts reel, and the offensive words circle around and around in my mind.

And my kids are held prisoner. I don’t dare let them outside. At least inside I can turn up the volume on the tv or blast the fans to mask the words. But I can still feel the beat. That beat. That thundering, thundering beat.  

“In our day music itself has been corrupted. Music can, by its tempo, by its beat, by its intensity, dull the spiritual sensitivity of men”

I know this to be true. I have felt it.

But I need that spirit. I need it to stay in my home. What am I to do when being bombarded in this way? I’m not letting it in. I’m not choosing it. I want to escape it.

I may not be hearing the music by choice. But I can choose not to listen to it.

I suppose that is what I need to work on doing.

That, and summoning the courage to ask my neighbors to turn it down.

Maybe a plate of cookies will do the trick.

------------------------------------------------

A couple more quotes from Pres. Packer’s talk that I say “AMEN” to!

“Music is one of the most forceful instruments for governing the mind and spirit of man.”

“Through music, man’s ability to express himself extends beyond the limits of the spoken language in both subtlety and power. Music can be used to exalt and inspire or to carry messages of degradation and destruction. It is therefore important that as Latter-day Saints we at all times apply the principles of the gospel and seek the guidance of the Spirit in selecting the music with which we surround ourselves.”

Sunday Firesides

Another Sunday at home.

And although most Sundays, Sacrament meeting is anything but something spiritual or uplifting while I strangle wrangle three kids and try to divide shushing responsibilities evenly between Greg and I, I’m starting to miss those little pieces of bread and miniature cups of water.

Luckily, I have had the opportunity to be spiritually fed these last two weeks by performing in a couple firesides with Jenny Phillips. If you are not familiar with this LDS artist, I would encourage you to become so. She is amazing. My testimony is strengthened every time I listen or speak to her. She has such a passion for strengthening and encouraging our youth to be valiant. I wish I were more like her. I wish I were more outspoken on matters that really matter.

The majority of the firesides we do are various stakes’ Trek Firesides. The theme of her music at these events includes taking the lessons we learned from the pioneers and applying them in our lives. That instead of being asked by our prophets to pull handcarts or risk frostbite, we are asked to stay clean and not be distracted by the things of the world. It is such a wonderful message. And as I sing in the choir and I look out at the audience of impressionable youth, I just hope in my heart that they get it. I think back to when I was their age. Would I have gotten it? I know Music was usually the best way to reach me. I think Jenny’s firesides have just the right mix of song and scripture and video and anecdotes and comedy to reach all the youth. It’s amazing to watch her be inspired.

She thanks us at each performance for our unselfish service. But really, I am there selfishly. I want to partake of that incredible spirit as often as I can. And I suppose, unselfishly, I want to do whatever small part I can to help others feel that spirit as well. :)

It’s definitely a win-win.

Passionate Teaching

 

Phew {wipe sweat from brow, literally}! It’s over. I think recitals are more stressful for the teacher than for the students.

There is so much build up,

                   so much building up,

                          so much calming down,

                                     so much reassuring,

                                                 so much correcting,

                                                            so much time put into something so small and so quick.

I ended up losing half of my students last month to moves and schedule conflicts, which was sad for me. But the show must go on!

I’m so proud of my students. It’s been a real joy teaching.

I always wanted to be a teacher. But as I got older and less confident about many things, I convinced myself that I would never make a good teacher. So teaching piano these last 2 years has been both terrifying and exhilarating.

Because, guess what. I love it. AND I’m good at it.

It’s always nice to learn new things about yourself.

I want my student’s lives to be enriched because they have music in their lives. I am passionate about that.

It’s the greatest lesson I could ever teach.

Music Directed by Tasha

I felt like I was composing a musical score to the movie of my life.

I’ve been trying to expand my piano repertoire and challenge myself. I require it of my piano students, so why shouldn’t I do it myself. I’ve been learning to play Chopin’s Nocturne, Op. 9 No. 1. I was most excited about its chromatic scale. I had to learn that scale in high school, but never actually got to put it into practice. A few hours of hard work has gotten the piece near perfection and I’m loving it.

Today, I sat down to play.

The kids were quietly watching a movie as my fingers gently stroked the keys through the tender opening phrases.

piano

The first big crescendo came in perfect timing with the toddler’s screams as her toy was taken and a wild chase around the living room began in direct correlation to the dramatic climax of the song.

forte

I wished I had a camera rolling. It was just so surreal. The perfect background music for the goings on. Each crescendo and diminuendo was matched exactly by my children’s actions. I couldn’t have directed it better myself.

The wistfully beautiful ending of the piece found the kids sitting down on the floor together, sharing.

diminuendo pianissimo

Hosanna - In Performance

Tune in this week for a musical Easter celebration

"In Performance" on BYU-TV

Monday 4/18 at 8:00 PM and 11:30 PM
Tuesday 4/19 at 3:00 AM and 9:30 AM
Saturday 4/23 at 11:00 PM

or
http://www.facebook.com/l/ed0a6/byutv.org

I'm the pasty one in the middle of the women. :)

How is this Possible?

One year already.

What a year it's been. So many changes. So many ups and downs. You've tried us, and strengthened us, and made our hearts soar.

I've never been one to put a label on a baby's personality. There is so much time, so much development yet to occur before speculation as to what a child might be like when they grow up can accurately be assessed. So I bite my tongue or chuckle silently when I hear other mom's brag about how smart their newborn is or that their 18 month old is most certainly going to be a teacher when she grows up. {smirk and sigh} Just let them be what they are - babies. That should be their label. Leave the judgments and the dreams of professions for the future. Enjoy the now.

Well, that's what I used to think. Until I met you.

And Taryn, while I don't know what you will be when you grow up, I do know that you can be anything you want. And you will succeed. For such a tiny little pumpkin, you are strong. So strong. And determined. And dare I say, defiant. And I am certain that those qualities will help you accomplish any goal you set for yourself.

And if I were to just put one tiny little label on you, then I will indulge myself with the thought that you will be a dancer. You can find the beat in the tiniest of sounds and your shoulders immediately sway and shimy. Be it a simple melody whistled unknowingly by a passerby, or the sound of your brother counting to 30 during time-out, or the hum of the roaring waters in the dishwasher, or the click and squeak of our rocking chair, you dance to it. And your sensitivity to rhythm has opened my eyes to the music that constantly surrounds us. The world is more beautiful because of it.

The world is more beautiful because of you.

Happy Birthday Taryn!

{your very lucky Mommy}

Come be Inspired

Holiday HighLights

• Surprise Surprise - On facebook before Christmas, I complained that Greg keeps figuring out my surprise gifts for him. One he found accidentally, three he spoiled, one he ended up buying for himself before Christmas - so frustrating. By the time Christmas morning rolled around I had only one trick left up my sleeve. Greg had asked for a car radio because his "new" used Corolla didn't have a working one. So he knew I was getting him a stereo of some kind. No surprise there. But what he didn't know was that I arranged to have it installed by a neighbor. After the installation, my neighbor gave me the original radio box back that had been replaced. I decided to pull a prank on Greg. I wrapped that radio up in a box full of packing peanuts. After all the presents were opened, I saved that one as the grand finale. He knew what it was going to be, so I hammed it up. As he cut the tape off the box seams I said, "I got it used on ebay, so I really hope all the pieces you need are there. " He kept a stoic face as he pushed away the peanuts. "There's no faceplate," he commented. "You're kidding!? I can't believe it." But I'm not a very good liar. Beneath the peanuts I had hid his car keys. I grabbed them out and exclaimed, "Just kidding!" with a HUGE smile on my face. We ran out in the snow together with our pajamas and sandals on. He was thrilled. And I was relieved to have had one surprise be just that - a surprise.


• Paycheck for Santa - Evan "weeuh weeuh weeuh want[ed] a Teo Twax for Kissus." {Translation - really wanted a Geo Trax for Christmas} He made this request last month and daily since then. When the wish was originally made we unfortunately had to tell him that Santa wouldn't have enough money to bring him a Geo Trax. He was saddened, but seemed to understand. It's an answer he's become accustomed to hearing lately. But after finding a good deal on ebay, Santa and Mrs. Claus became very anxious and excited every time Evan mentioned his one Christmas request. The night before Christmas he asked, "Does Santa have enough money for a GeoTrax yet?" We gave a shrug in response. Then he pulled out the 15 coins he had collected throughout the day and put them on the counter. "Is this enough money for Santa?" So precious. The next morning, Santa left him a note thanking him for the money but asking Evan to put it in his mission bank instead. It was a very touching moment for us to witness Evan's sensitivity and generosity. Of course, the underlying irony of it all is that by helping Santa he was helping himself. But "helping" nonetheless, reflects a glimmer of the Christmas spirit.


• Great and Spacious - Santa granted me my wish this Christmas as well. I got an additional wall of shelves in my pantry. Now I love opening the pantry door and just staring at the space and order reflecting before my eyes. So great!


• Bedroom reclamation - a major highlight was the reclaiming of our bedroom. We finally got a toddler bed for Zion and moved Taryn into the baby crib. The sisters are sharing a room and Greg and I no longer have a stow away in ours.
  
• In Excelsis Deo! - By far the greatest part of Christmas day was one that was least expected. Tara and I practiced singing "Mary's Lullaby", with Greg accompanying on the guitar, to sing for my grandparents on speaker phone. Singing is something we love doing together. Afterward, it was suggested that we walk next door to Grandma Gloria's house. I don't know Grandma Gloria. But she is an elderly woman confined to her bed, all alone in her big house.

Singing for the elderly is something I grew up doing through years of Christmas caroling at nursing homes and choir service projects. To me, it was always a little creepy; a good creepy. But it has been years since I was a caroling youth.

We gave a knock on the door and then let ourselves in. We followed her welcoming voice to the back bedroom where she lay on her bed. She looked beautiful. Though lying in a simple nightgown beneath blankets, her face was dolled up with rosy cheeks and pink lips. So cheery and inviting. Weak and frail, yet a snapshot of Grandma perfection.

After an introduction and an exchange of pleasantries, we began our performance. It was magical. I watched her eyes glow and gloss. After each verse, she would begin to say how lovely it was, but then we would start to sing again and cut her compliment short. By the time the final chord was strummed, I was beaming. Tears filled her eyes and with a broken voice she said, "Thank you, thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." And though the words of gratitude were escaping her lips, I couldn't help but want to echo them back.

We were the ones there to perform an act of service. But she was the one serving me. {Again, that's one of the funny things about service}. She reminded me what Christmas is all about. At that moment it was about lifting each other's spirits. We did it through a verse of song and she did it with her lovely rosy cheeks and grateful praises.

It was real Christmas Magic

Spirit of Christmas Kick Off

If you're looking for a great way to kick off the Christmas Season and are in the Salt Lake area this weekend - check out this performance. It's a great reminder of what it is all about!

Plus, if you mention that you saw Lex and George on KUTV 2 news

(even if you didn't actually see them),

then you can get tickets at the door BUY one get one FREE! Awesome!

And then you'll get to see me standing above all the soloists.

Being so close to the spotlight means I can't fidget, which I tend to do. But that's okay.

Weekend Report and not much else

Sometimes I don't feel like writing when I have a lot on my mind.
So I'll put those issues to the side and talk about something else until I can focus my thoughts.

It was a fun weekend.

I played softball. That's an old love of mine. But it wasn't as good to me as it used to be. I felt clumsy and awkward. But the atmosphere was as I remembered. The bright lights, the musty smell of the dirt, and the trickles of sweat were just as inviting as they were in high school. And we won the championship!

I sang in a concert. And it was so moving. In fact, it was so moving that it moved my milk right down the ducts and out the front of my dress! Guess that's what happens when bottles are the easiest fix during church and I hadn't nursed my little one since the morning. Good thing it's a black dress and I held my binder in front of the two leaking faucets. But the music and theme were wonderful and inspiring. And I was so glad to be a part of it.

It was a good weekend. And a good distraction.

Teacher and Pupils

Did you know I teach piano?

Last night we had a Stake Talent Show and I told the girls I teach piano to that I would give them 50 points if they performed in it. I am so proud of them. It is thrilling to watch someone whom you taught go from struggling and fighting over the notes and keys to pulling off a flawless performance. I was so proud watching them and beamed as if they were my own children.

Since having little kids I've noticed that I have lost a lot of my capacity to love other people's children. I am so engrossed in my own. But I love these girls and I love teaching them. That is why I wanted to share their performance on this blog.


Morgan and Raigan Jones - Ode to Joy 4/25/09

It Could Have Been Me Part 2

Make sure you scroll down and read Part 1 first.

Our first GLORIA performance was Friday night. I wasn't feeling well. And we get to stand through the whole concert while holding our breath out for insane amounts of time and taking innumerable quick breaths that can make your head dizzy on a day when you feel well.

The last song before intermission the symptoms appeared. I got very hot and began to sway. My peripherals became black. I decided to just mouth the words to save my breath. Halfway through I put my music down and instead focused all my efforts on just staying afoot. Then there was clapping and I quickly staggered down the aisle to the green room. I fanned myself off, drank lots of water, and ate a few bites. I felt 100% better and was so relieved that I had not fainted.

Onto Act II of the performance. I made sure to keep my knees bent. I shifted my weight frequently. I probably looked more like a bouncing Baptist than a member of a dignified choral society. Then midway through the second-to-last song the symptoms appeared again.

But this time to my neighbor beside me.

She started swaying and was very disoriented. Her sister to her left and I tried to get her to sit down on the little ledge behind us. She refused, but finally relented. As she sat, I kept my arm behind her to steady her and held my music with my other hand. Suddenly she became a dead weight in my arms. Her hands spasmed and she dropped her head and her music which went sprawling on the floor. My eyes became wide as I tried to hold her up. Luckily a strong gentleman from the audience came to the rescue.

We lowered her to the ground, her legs all crumpled beneath her. The choir around us, including her sister, continued singing their "Gloria in excelsis deo"s while my neighbor lay on the floor like a corpse. A nurse from the audience came to offer advice. I raised her knees as instructed and continued to fan her pale face with my choir music. The nurse asked me her name as they tried to revive her. Blank... What kind of a neighbor am I? I don't even know my neighbor's name? Sure I'm new to the group, but the nurse didn't know that. I pretended not to hear the question. Afterall, there was an angelic choir still singing in my ear.

By the time the last song started, Wendy (I quickly learned her name afterward) began to come to. I gave her some water and the nurse and I helped her sit up. I continued to keep my hand on her back just in case. But I joined my voice with the rest of the choir.

"The Show Must Go On" has never had such meaning to me. Perhaps I should have stood with the choir and let the Good Samaritans from the audience do the reviving. But I had to help. Sure it left a big hole in the formation since two of its members were on the floor, but I do not regret it.

Besides, it could have been me. In fact, it probably should have been me.

I was laughing driving home that night. Laughing mostly out of joy. Joy that I knew I had done all I could to help in the situation. Joy because Wendy was fine and in good spirits - though a bit embarrassed. Joy because I was glad it hadn't been me. Joy because I knew that if it had been me that there are good people who are willing to help at a moment's fall. Joy because I knew I had been one of those good people tonight.

Lulla Lulla Lullaby

Music plays a major role in my life. It has always been my passion. The years of lessons and recitals and practicing and arguments with my mom about not wanting to practice are finally paying off. I have been blessed to have served in various music callings in each ward I've been in. I currently get to play the organ each week (something that is often more of a comedy act than spiritually uplifting - but hopefully not too many people notice the grimaces I make behind the keys) and am also involved in a choir conducted by Lex de Azevedo to perform his Christmas Oratorio. I love to sing. I love sitting at the piano and belting away. Exercising my vocal chords is such a stress reliever. But as much as I like to belt the high notes or perform for others, there is nothing that gives me greater satisfaction than singing to my children.

Evan loves to play the "Peapah" (piano). His favorite thing is to grab my hand and have me sit on the piano bench with him. Then he opens up our Primary Songbook and turns to "Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree" and we go from there. He knows how to find each song he likes. Even the ones that don't have pictures. Somehow he has memorized where they are. He just loves it. And I love it too.

At bedtime, Evan can often be a little stinker. But my favorite nights are the ones where he is calm enough to let me read him some books. He gets to pick two books to read. Lately he has been choosing the "Lullaby" book. We rock-a-bye and see the moon and watch the pretty horses while counting twinkle stars and shaking the dreamland trees. Then when we have sung them all he asks to do it again. This constitutes his "two book limit". We sing a prayer song and then thank Heavenly Father for the fun things we got to do that day. Today it was tractors, trains, and slides (we got to go to a Pumpkin farm and play). Then a kiss on the forehead and lights out.

The climax of all my musical training is this - to quietly whisper lullabies and cheerfully sing primary songs. And the practice was well worth it.

Picture: Evan signing "more" - something he often does when we are singing songs together