Seasons of Love

 

525, 600 minutes
525, 000 moments so dear
525, 600 minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In 525, 600 minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

525, 600 minutes
525, 000 journeys to plan
525, 600 minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or man?

In truths that she learned, or in times that he criеd
In bridges he burned, or thе way that she died

It's time now to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let's celebrate, remember a year
In the life of friends

Remember the…

Mary and I have been listening to the new Pentatonix Christmas album. This song from Rent is new to me. I put it on repeat. As a Suzuki Piano teacher, I'm not subject to song burnout. Hearing the same song or piece over and over again for a couple hours actually sorts out my brain waves. 

Here is the link to listen to the song. "Season's of Love" link.

In cups of coffee. In journey's planned. Calvin and Mary have a game where they pick a random place on the globe and plan a trip there. Hotels, airfare, restaurants and museums. Calvin has a whole itinerary for he and I to take a trip. The year of cancelled plans. 

Bill is getting caught up with putting photos on my computer. Instead of albums called "Piano Festival in Italy" and "Mary and Janel in the Czech Republic" the folders are called "April Lockdown" and "Covid Walks."  

Bill and I have not been on a date since our anniversary March 14. The next week the restaurants closed. 

Still, spring, summer, fall, and now winter, have been seasons of love. 

This too shall pass. And we will be stronger and more resilient. More tough and more tender. 

Mary is in her room on Zoom school eight hours a day. Day after day. One day at a time. Practice. Try to set up a horizon. The next thing to look forward to. And try not to worry that it won't be cancelled. 

Try to say yes to as much as we can. This year 23 out of 27 students are playing Carol of the Bells for the Christmas Recital. Only a slight exaggeration. Every kid gets to play whatever they want. We will make videos to share. I've got some surprises cooking for the studio kids. 

I started this blog ten years ago. I'm not so naive to think that what I have to say is terribly interesting. It's not going viral. It's just therapy for me and a bit of a family journal. 

Seasons of love. That's what we have had this year. Spring. Summer. Fall. Winter. That's really about all we got. Love. Family time. 

Piano kids. I want them to know that where there's a will there's a way. Or as Amit, one of my piano dads said, "where there's a Bill there's a way." It's true. I have a great husband. We all give 100% everyday. Keep showing up. 

Seasons of love. Let's celebrate a year. Truths we've learned. In laughter. In strife. Keep going, Mary. 

So Close and Yet So Far ~ a different kind of Christmas

So close but yet so far. That is the phrase that keeps going through my head. I've been having unprecedented insomnia. Hmm. Don't you just hate those two words?  

There is nothing to fear but fear itself. The fear of not sleeping will induce insomnia quicker than a second espresso. Motherhood prepares you for this. We can function even on zero hours. But, it's nothing close to our very best self. This too shall pass. I should have gotten the tattoo years ago. I repeat, as every year passes, caregivers, secure your own oxygen mask. I know how to get the low hanging self care fruit. 

As I decorate for Christmas, with no one coming, no parties, no recitals, probably not many friends stopping by, I'm taken back to the ghosts of Christmas past. All the way back. The smell of cranberry candle in my Eldridge, Iowa house. My mom having everything perfect. Rag curlers in our hair. The Harry Simeone Choral Little Drummer Boy on the record player, with Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians cued up. Her home sewn decorations everywhere. Little red lights in the cupboard. 

Then, the Christmases I lived alone, completely broke, in Austin. The ornaments my Austin students gave me each year. The gingerbread houses they made for me. The little Christmas plates and mugs my sister gave me for graduation. They came from the fancy Williams Sonoma store and I still cherish them. Eleven years of the long cold drive home across the country. Seventeen hours in good weather. Please, celebrate me home. 

Then marriage and the years of littles. The years of the Christmas train. You can go back to past blogs to read the INSANE amount of activities we had to fit in between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Forgive us our Christmases as we forgive. . . 

This year there is no calendar stress. It is a different kind of Christmas. The calendar is virtually, ha, ha, get it. . . "virtually" empty. Yet we have different kinds of stress. To wish for things to be different is a recipe for melancholy. So, let's just wish for what we have, a peaceful holiday time where we focus on keeping people well while preserving as much as we can of traditional Christmas life. Pay attention to what people might be needing, try to lift each other up while acknowledging that it's okay to just be what we are. We really can't fix it. We can just be there. Thank you to my family and friends for listening to the daily sleep report. I'm also happy to listen to your daily report as well, whatever that might be. I'll try to listen. 

This morning I discovered a new Christmas album. It's Enya's 2019 Christmas album. When I was practicing for my graduation recital, I listened to a lot of Enya. I needed music to get the other music out of my head in order to sleep. I needed music, that is, without too much going on. A pure voice and slow predictable harmonic progressions. 

Here is a link if you need something like this: Enya Christmas

So close and yet so far. Sleep. Grandparents. Friends. Christmas. Christmas past. Christmas future. And here we are in Christmas now. A different kind of Christmas. 

I started writing this yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon my mom's dog Josie was hit by a Fed Ex truck. Josie was a good dog. She was loved by all for nine good years. The pain is the price we pay for loving. We are not going to stop loving. Still, things can change very fast, as fast as a truck going by the mailbox. I can think back to every moment when I lost a pet. They are etched. Thank you Josie, for being a good companion to Janel. Janel, we are all thinking of you and wishing you peace. 

Well, I'm almost done with my decorations. And then we bake, and then we wrap presents. That's how it's done around here. And in between we wait for the kid to come home. And wait for school to start again. And wait to see each other in pure joy. 

Peace to you. And little moments of connection and joy. We are not going to stop loving. We aren't going to stop Christmas -- Dr. Fauci said Santa is immune. It's just going to be a little different. There is a lot to be thankful for. 

I apologize for the rambling blog. It's a little bit where I'm at I guess. Not in a huge hurry and letting my  mind wander back and forth from year to year and on to some huge party next year with caroling and appetizers and huge spreads of cookies for the children. On to live Christmas shows. And live church choirs. Mixing generations. 

I'm thinking of the last scene of the Grinch, when Grinch can't stop Christmas from coming. I like that. It will come without all its usual glory. It will be a different kind of Christmas, but I'm still showing up for as many people as I can. 

Merry Christmas and big hugs to all of you who keep reading this, year after year, through the ups and downs, the high highs and the low lows. I love you all very much. 

Being a Great-Souled People

 

Some of us are not stressed. 

Live Streaming Calvin's Service

Calvin Becomes a Member of St. Paul's in Iowa City

Of Course I Sent Flowers 

A Morning to Spark the Kitchen

Standing in Line to Vote

Calvin Training to be a Poll Worker

Masked Chamber Music

Zoom Confirmation Reception 

Beautiful Girl, Beautiful Heart, and a Resistant Cat 

Confirmation Flowers 

Affirmation of Cake

It's not too early in the Winter for Chocolate

Affirmation of Baptism

Surprise Attendance 

Calvin texted us this morning that Anthony Fauci says he estimates most Americans will be able to receive a vaccine by the end of April. Right now about anything will bring me to tears and that does. 

Yesterday I cried at the gym. The poor teacher. . . it's just that we've been holding it together for so long that a couple nights of no sleep and a governor's new set of restrictions is enough to break it all down. Usually I save my meltdowns for the parking lot of the grocery store. She must have felt honored. 

It's been a busy month. Time marches on. Here is a beautiful project that Mary was involved in. She was an alternate and only had 48 hours to get this recording done. This song reminds me of my father. 

Air Force Clarinet Link

Calvin worked a 16 hour voting day at the polls on campus in Iowa City. He's a music and math major but deep down I think he might be a political journalist. He's already contributed to the Wall Street Journal's college op-ed. And other mostly conservative publications. That said, this was not a normal election for some conservatives. 

Mary got confirmed. Confirmation was a rocky road. She was saved by her mentor Jennifer. They have been meeting by Zoom every week, digging way deeper than required. Mary's grandma surprised her by showing up at the church for the socially distanced-do the best they can confirmation of baptism ceremony. I'll take that. We have been at Easter for 20 years and this was a nice bookmark. 

Meanwhile, Calvin joined a church in Iowa City. I couldn't go, because we had an epic SPTG Workshop on the Zoom all weekend with Gail Lange from Canada. But, I sent flowers etc. My mom and Susan showed up. Janel gets an A+ for showing up amid Covid restrictions. May God bless her with health and safety and an endless supply of medical grade masks and hand sanitizer. Congratulation Calvin, may you be blessed by the community, music and message there. And thank you to Pastor Mons, who met with Calvin, again, above and beyond, to dig deep into his faith journey. The things other people have done for my kids-with nothing in return, is amazingly uplifting to me. I'm so thankful. I'm humbled. 

They are great-souled people. 

We long for great-souled people who can hold the chaos together within themselves and give us the courage to do the same. Richard Rohr 10/28/20

That is, the ability to stay present to what is, and meet it with wisdom, compassion, and courage. That is what we are all trying to do. I show up everyday to try to be there for my kids who are missing their high school and college years. Sixteen year olds are not supposed to sit in their rooms sixteen hours a day studying by themselves. They aren't supposed to practice hours and hours for performances that never happen. College kids aren't supposed to Zoom their lives in. 

I try to show up everyday for the studio kids who continue to practice and do all the work with very little of the fun. I try to show up for their parents who are working from home and trying to help their kids with online or homeschool and like me, they have been spending an awful lot of time with the same cast of characters. 

I try to write letters to people in nursing homes who can't have visitors again. Try to show up for retired baby-sitters living alone, who get so excited for an outdoor veterans's marching band program, only to have it cancel at the last minute. 

We get to break down. We get to be a little grouchy. We get to cry at the kitchen table or the Kowalski's parking lot or at the gym. 

But then, we have to wipe the tears and dig in and keep showing up for each other. We each have to be that person trying to hold the chaos together within themselves. We give each other the courage to do the same. 

We are a great-souled people. All of us. Everyone I know. My husband is. My mother is. My father in law is. My kids are. My sister is. My friends are. My studio kids and parents are. 

I commit to bringing as much meaning and connection to this season as I possible can. I'm gonna decorate the house and buy gifts and sneak visits as safely as I can. 

And next year we're gonna have the biggest Christmas party we've ever had. 

May God bless you with patience and courage and perseverance. 

You are a great-souled person. 

The Eighth Aspiration ~ Presence ~ ANTS ~ Joy

 

The Third Covid Journal

Hello Froggy

Today I started the third notebook of Covid. My daily journal, or morning pages. Who would have thought? 

The eighth of my ten aspirations is presence, which includes posture and breathing. I guess I could fill a whole lot more than three notebooks on this. Not that I have achieved this. It's a lifetime thing. 

When I'm lacking joy, one of the first check points is to see if I'm suffering from ANTS. Automatic negative thoughts. Our brains can get into habits. It's a prefrontal cortex thing? There is a lot of information you can google. 

We can move away from ANTS. Making a list of all the things we are grateful for is one easy way. Getting away from social media and curating our news intake is another tool. Taking time each day (not so easy for busy parents) to center yourself is critical. That's why I wake up so early. To have some time each day to write, read my Bible and other devotions and try to hit the reset button each and every morning. 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say rejoice. Let all men know your forbearance. The Lord is at hand. Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:4-8 

In a perfect world that should about take care of it. . . I hope you have a lovely fall day. 

I Don't Know How You Do it All

 

What was lost is found. . . under the stove

For me? 

Adoring EVMB Fans

Cousins!

I'm Taking a Greyhound

Oliver Loves Amazon

Fall Hikes

Ferns!

Where you lead, I will follow

This season's performance

Socially distant masked marching band. Who would have thought?

There is a phrase my ego loves to hear. It longs to hear. "I don't know how you do it all?" Don't we all need to hear that now and then? I don't know how you do it all. Working mothers. School teachers. Home school moms. 

There have been months and even years of my life when it felt like every waking moment was spoken for. Bill calls it trying to fit ten pounds in a five pound box. It's the Stephens' way of moving time and space to make something happen. It's not some huge sin, but neither does it make me very happy. 

When we live in what I call survival mode for too long, we start to commit violence to the people around us. I'm not my very best self when there is more to do than can actually be done. I start to say things I didn't mean and force the people around me into an impossible zone of productivity. There isn't a moment to think about words before I say them and interruptions are a federal offense punishable by extreme grouchiness. Did you know the byproduct of perfectionism is anger? 

I fill in all the little boxes on the google calendar and then when I finally have a day off I expect every task on the to-do list to magically get done in one day, and then I get mad when the ten pounds doesn't fit. 

If I had to do it all again, that is the last twenty years, I might do less. I am who I am, and the things I have done and volunteered for and achieved are part of who I am. Still, the calm of things as they should be is where are souls come alive. I started to rehabilitate three years ago when I started bullet journaling. 

I started by creating a year at a glance bullet journal spread. How many extra activities can each month hold? I made a point to block two weekends each month. No recitals or workshops. I become more aware of the big picture and the patterns that develop year over year between family life, studio life and my kid's activities. Months that have a big event need extra margin. 

I started taking periodic breaks from teaching. If the daily schedule with kids and teaching is pretty tight, which it is, then I need a week off every four to six weeks to catch up. For example, I'm taking the whole week of MEA, the Minnesota school fall break, off. I take the whole week of Thanksgiving off. The more energy I put into teaching, the more I need periodic breaks. It doesn't mean I don't love my job, on the contrary. I love it so much that I know I need to force breaks into the calendar so that I don't get burned out. 

After getting the yearly plan under control, at least to some extent, I dug into the weekly and daily routine. I started calendar blocking weekdays, and even weekends. I didn't do this so that I could do more and more, I started this so that I would have a realistic overview of what I actually could fit into a day or a weekend. I hoped to whittle my list down to five pounds so that it could actually fit into the box I have. For example, on a fall Saturday I used to want to sleep till 8:00, write a blog, go for a walk, do some yard work, run some errands, practice with the kids, watch a movie, go out for dinner, get together with friends for coffee, organize the coats, hats and mittens for winter, make and freeze some soup for the busy upcoming week. . . you get my point. Then I would be frustrated and angry with everyone in the house for not helping me get it all done. 

With a hourly calendar block, I could get real about the day. How many hours is each of these things going to actually take? How many hours are there? It's not that I wanted every waking moment to be planned. There is flexibility in the end product. I don't always follow the hourly plan. It's about picking which five pounds are the most important for that day and letting the dream nightmare of bending time and space go. Let it go. 

It doesn't take me an hour to shower. During that margin I can tidy the upstairs, make a phone call, or fold a little laundry. If I don't set an hourly limit on the garden, I would accidentally stay out all day. Now that I schedule "desk" time, I don't have to be checking and responding to email all morning. I know there is a time set aside for desk work and I can do it then. I'm trying to set the precedent with SAA, SAM, SPTG  and studio email, that I will check and respond to email once a day. When Bill worked in cargo for the airlines, there was a crisis where there was a cooler going round and round on the baggage carousel unclaimed. The cooler was labeled "live organs for transplant." This became a big metaphor for us. Someone missing their organ transplant is a crisis. Nothing involved teaching piano lessons is a crisis. It's not live organs for transplant. Waiting a few hours to respond to an email isn't putting anyones life on the line. It's only my ego that makes me feel that way. 

Calendar blocking helps me be realistic about my goals. If I have goals to practice two hours a day, and write a book and get in better shape and read more books. . . let's face it. . . there just isn't time in an average day to work toward those goals. Some of it is going to have to wait. It just doesn't all fit on the calendar.  Side note. . . penciling in forty-five minutes for Facebook? I would never do that. Yet, without a plan it's easy to accidentally do that. Same with news. Calendar blocking helps me stick to my values. 

I'm learning the ways in which my ego has encouraged me to take on too much. I must be very important since I'm so very busy. Yes, but, I also just really love doing a lot of things. I'm not beating myself up too badly. It's a journey. I can also laugh at myself, especially when I have to calendar block time to calendar block. Still, I feel much less angry than I did three years ago. I'm more accepting of the reality of what I can actually do without harming the small animals, plants and people in my life. And I continue to take stock of what is really the most important. We always find time to do what is the most important to us. That is a fact, but if we are on autopilot there might be a chasm between what we say is the most important and what actually happens. 

Bullet journaling and calendar blocking is what's working for me right here right now. It's a plan to be realistic about my time and how I want to spend it.  

I don't know how you do it all? What is most important about that phrase is how we determine what all is. 

Happiness is. . . having just the right amount of time to do the things we want and need to do, in the way that we want to do them. The calm of things as they should be. Not having more to do than can actually be done. Then our souls come alive. 

I wish this for myself and my family and for you. 

Love,

Sara