Listening and Breathing

Bill's Mom and the boy.

If you don't want my fingers in your food. . . . how else do you know if it's hot? 

I will increase the height of my hair as needed to maintain my stature over the boy. 

You should know that this was the fourth batch. . . some live and learn. . . some just live. 

At this moment, I lost my will to get out the piping equipment. 

Our cream puffs and profiteroles. All's well that ends in our tummy. 

Just like times of old. . . we gather around the iPad.

After a week in Hawaii, I'm not feeling too sorry for myself, but I have to say that we came home right into the hell fire and brimstone of holy week in conjunction with the collision of my volunteer worlds.

Palm Sunday. . . 
Deerwood Gerten's plant sale data entry. . . (eleven hours)
SAM fall workshop meeting. . . (two hours)
Piano practice for Tenebrae service and Easter. . . (fifteen hours)
A graduation recital at my house. . . 
Post Hawaii laundry. . . (thirty-seven hours) okay-that's an exaggeration but that's how it felt
Scheduling and programs for SPTG masterclasses (three hours)
Getting two kidos ready for the masterclasses. . . . who is counting?
Leaving cat brushes on the floor for my husband to puncture his foot (five minutes)

And all with a significant case of jet lag.

Sunday I thought I was so cool getting up for Palm Sunday church at 6:00 a.m. Eight hours and I'm fresh as a daisy. Monday at noon it hit me. Total coma. I hate to pull the age card. . . but I guess at 5'6" I can't do a Friday night red-eye flight, lose a night's sleep and not pay the price.

Monday morning (pre-coma) I went to start my business week and all my contacts were erased from my computer. "You have. . . zero contacts."  Zero groups of contacts like SPTG board, SAM board, Piano Kids, Plant Sale Helpers. . .

I cried for help but the Lord did not hear me. I stuffed Dove chocolate eggs in my mouth and still the contacts did not reload. Last straw? Ask Facebook for help. Here I gained the comfort and support I needed. The masses ensured me that Calvin would be able to fix it. But what to do until 3:05?  I couldn't really pull him from school for the day.

Breath and listen.

Our senior choir performed the Beethoven Hallelujah again this Easter. I long ago abbreviated the orchestral reduction but even my edits put me at my limit. Still, I've been getting some coaching on my playing and I'm committed to life long learning and this is part of it.

So this year for the first time, at home, on the Baldwin, I'm feeling very comfortable and working to get out of the "this is hard" mindset.  Really--this is our third year with the piece and truly it isn't really that hard. Well within my clear minded grasp. Even fun.

For those of us with debilitating performance anxiety the goals become clear. Listen. Breath. You lose one of those for even a moment and it's all over.

We had four services and the third was the fullest one with the sanctuary packed and the narthex and the fellowship hall and the fireside commons and the live web stream. Bill and Mary and Calvin came too. The breathing and listening thing went pretty well and there was even a hint of the "fun" thing.

The fourth service the introduction did not go so well--I'm not sure if I lost the breathing thing or the listening thing because I wasn't there. Upon my return the rest went fine and I never lost my faith that our steadfast leader would know exactly where I was even when I wasn't there.

What is it about the end? How many times to kids screw up the last measure or phrase? I guess the brain has packed it's suitcase and already left the hall. And so I guess during the introduction of the fourth performance my brain left the hall. Overconfident? Tired? Or maybe we need that total rush of the heart rate just to pay attention. When I die, I'll get the printout and it will all become clear. Oh--that's what was wrong with you.

I could cry. I could beat myself up about it. I could feel terribly embarrassed. I could feel guilty about not giving the choir the confidence they needed for the last entrance. But the truth is, you do the best you can with the brain you are given and you keep learning and growing. You listen and you breath.

Monday morning you get up and practice with Calvin and do the listening thing. Then you go to yoga and practice the breathing thing. And then you teach and you practice the listening thing again. And so it goes.

So--each day and each Hallelujah and each moment an opportunity to listen and breath.

Happy Easter! May God bless all our listening and breathing--today and until it all becomes clear.