A Farewell to Words

It appears that blogs are becoming a things of the past. In fact, my son told me that over 6 years ago when I first started blogging at the urging of my publisher.  Now the women writers group I've belonged to for several years has ended their blogsite, too.   Nobody cares what someone else thinks anymore.  Our world is turning to visuals--pops of color, silly videos, photos.  If you can't say what you need to say in 10 words of less, no one listens.  Our world of instant everything has shortened our attention spans to almost nothing.  Just go into any kindergarten class in the nation and you will see where the future of our world is heading.

It's ironic that my first book, "The Peaks at the Edge of the World" depicted a future where the written word is obsolete and no one reads "old fashioned" books anymore.  Books are frowned on and eventually banned altogether.  Everything is on a household terminal in the form of pictures and the spoken word.  This opens the door for anyone in power who says something to go back and deny it was said.  There is no written record, and digital records are easy to change. Thus, it's simple to change history to meet any slant or bias that has moved into the limelight.  Sound familiar?

Yes, the scary part is that many of us see it happening in our world already.  The words of Simon and Garfunkel in "The Sounds of Silence" have become prophetic:  "People talking without speaking" is happening all around us, as everyone is tied to their smart phones, texting.  I know.  I do it, too.  If I want to get hold of any person under 40, the only way is to text them.  Hardly anyone answers voicemails anymore.

Today is my 70th birthday.  Looking back on my life, I think the years between 40 and 60 were the best.  It's been downhill ever since.  And the way our world is going, I fervently hope that I don't live past 80.  I don't want to end up a vegetable with Alzheimer's like my mother did. 

In my first book, there were a few rebels who held out and collected and read books, but the were always in danger of being discovered and punished.  If I am forced to live into an age like that, I know I will be one of those "Rebel Readers."

When God Calls, He Also Provides

 My Erler's Musical Expressions music party (not a recital) yesterday was well received. Five of my seven families were able to be there.  Parents and grandparents of my students came to me afterwards and thanked me for my work, and especially for focusing on the joys of music.  I think it all goes back to my early training in Environmental Education, Kindermusik, and Musikgarten:  "Process, not product is the key."  and "Follow the Child."  In other words, I try to focus on each one's interests and learning style.

At the party, I let each student volunteer to play a piece of their choice, and every one did, even though I didn't require it.  I also focused on the community that was present, briefly introducing the families to each other.  Because we're all in this together--teacher, student, and home.  It's not my accomplishment; it's all of us combined.  As the saying goes, "It takes a village."

My dear hubby, Paul, was such a big help!  Setting up, cleaning up, and just giving moral support. I'm so blessed to be married to him.  It was a lot of work, but it was well invested.  

When my mentor in Michigan, Kaye Phelps, guided me into teaching, I felt unqualified.  But God has given me what I needed, because this is a ministry He has called me to.  I'm reminded of the passages in Exodus where God called Moses to free the Israelites from Egypt.  He kept telling God, "I'm not a good speaker.  I can't do this."  But God told Moses, he would provide what he needed.  And He did.

After 30 years of teaching music, I see even more clearly how God has used me--not only for the sake of music, but for the sake of my many students and families over those years.

I don't have the energy I did 30 years ago, but I'm thankful the Lord continues to give me the strength to serve him in this way.

The Core Motivation for My Writing

 

Although we see evidence of God, Providence, Nature—or whatever you choose to call it—he /she/it is still unknowable to our limited perspective. I’ve read that a relationship with this entity is like a dance.  The lead partner must step back so the follower partner knows to step forward.  In the same way, God—our partner—may seem to be withdrawing or stepping away from us in times of confusion, doubt, or suffering.  However, this is really an invitation for us to draw closer to him.  It’s as though he is saying, “I have more to show you.  Come closer to me.”  This reminds me of what Aslan kept telling those he was taking into paradise in the seventh Narnia book, The Last Battle:  “Come higher up, come deeper in.”

          In the end, it all stems from Love—not a coddling or clinging sort of love.  It’s a love that transcends and remains unknowable to our finite minds.  Once we move “deeper in” as Aslan said, we begin to see what St. John wrote in the Bible, “Dear friends, we are already God’s children, right now, and we can’t even imagine what it is going to be like later on.”   Or St. Paul who said, “Now all that I know is hazy and blurred, but then I will see everything clearly, just as clearly as God sees into my heart right now.”  (Quotes from The Living Bible Paraphrase)

          This love and the dance it creates is the common thread that runs through all my works, and through all my life, for that matter.

A Meaningful Life

 Like many of my peers in the 1960s, I wanted to change our world for the better.  I wanted to leave my mark and do great things.  But it didn't turn out the way I expected.  Instead of making me a leader and famous author, God morphed me into a music teacher.

Teachers in general, and especially teachers in the arts fields, are often seen as superfluous in our culture.  Something nice to have, if the school can afford it, but usually the first thing cut when budgets are tight.  The result for me has been a marginal income and very few "benefits" as the world describes them.

But for me personally, the benefits have been awesome, even though in our culture they aren't often recognized.  I am not a greatly talented musician.  My dad said I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.  I taught myself to play guitar so I could sing on key and not stray off from the correct tune.  I worked hard to gain the skills that came naturally to many of my friends and relatives.  All my life I'd wanted to learn to play piano, and I finally got to take formal lessons after age 30. 

I was completely surprised when my piano teacher, Kaye, urged me to teach some beginning piano students she couldn't fit into her schedule.  She told me I didn't have to be a virtuoso to teach, that it was a different set of skills, and she saw them in me.  What a wonderful door she opened for me!

Here I am 30 years later, still teaching and enjoying the interaction with each and every student.  I love the opportunity to focus on each one's particular interests and learning styles.  They are all unique.  I also enjoy the relationships that are built as I share my love of music with them. 

I have been blessed to have touched so many young lives--I lost count at 300.  But the biggest blessing has been to be touched by them.  I am still in touch with some of my former students via social media (It's not all bad.)  They knew me when they were children, and now some of them are married and having children of their own.  Some of them are even music teachers who can now play much better than I do. 

I'm touched and humbled to have been given this opportunity to teach.  Now I see that it was a calling from God, a ministry he had planned for me.  What natural talents I lacked, he provided, in order that he might have the glory, not me.

A meaningful life?  Perhaps not in the eyes of the world.  But it has been precious, indeed!

Memoir or Fiction? This Is the Question

 

The Truth Behind the Fictionalized Memoir

 

For the past couple of months, I’ve been trying to understand the difference between autobiographical fiction and fictionalized memoir.  It seems to me that it’s mostly a matter of how much the author reveals of his or her personal life.  With this is mind, I’ve been laboring on a memoir for the past few years, but to “protect the innocent” I have changed names, settings, and sequences of events.  I guess that means it is a fictionalized memoir.

However, in the interest of being an advocate for mental health, I have realized I need to share my true story, so here it is.

Yes, according to the calendar it’s spring, but all of us in Northwest Montana know that real spring is still a month or more away.  Winter is often a difficult time for people who suffer from depression.  I’m no exception.  For most of my life I tried to hide this behind a shield of pretense, but that took a heavy toll on my physical and mental health.  I was afraid of the stigma attached to mental health issues.

Things really took a nosedive in 2003 with menopause, as anxiety and chronic migraines were added to the mix.  In 2005, after trying herbal remedies for years (St. John’s Wort, Feverfew, Black Cohosh, to name a few), and one antidepressant (Zoloft) that made me violently ill, I finally agreed with my doctor to try Lexapro, and it did help.

But new stresses piled on due to family issues, such as caring for my mother who had Alzheimer’s.  By 2013, I was getting suicidal.  Fortunately, I was directed to an excellent counselor, once I swallowed my pride and admitted I needed help.  It has taken me another eight years to realize (admit?) that having a place where I can let go and truly be myself, where I can say what I really think and feel, is just as important to my treatment as the meds are.

I’m fortunate to be living in a century when some of the stigmas attached to mental illness are lessening and there are treatments available to people like me.  Every person is unique, though, so finding the right combination of treatments can be a long journey.  It has been for me.

As I’ve gone through this, I feel that now is the time to be open and share where I’ve been, hoping this will help someone else out there.

No, the book isn’t published yet.  It still needs to simmer a bit longer.  But I feel the journey is finally reaching some light ahead--at the end of the tunnel.

Whose Idea Was This, Anyway?

 So many people keep talking about the evils of redistribution of wealth, like it was some new idea developed by Karl Marx and carried on by the Communists.  But guess what, folks, it’s in the Bible!

Many of us have heard it countless times, the song of Mary of Nazareth, called The Magnificat, after the first words of the song rendered in Latin:  “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

Today these later verses were brought to my attention: “He (the Lord) has scattered those who are proud in their thoughts.  He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble.  He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.”  (Luke 1:51-53)

Jesus is recorded in Luke 6:20 & 24 as saying: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God…But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.”

Can the comforts of this world measure up to the spiritual comforts Christ offers?  Ask a multi-millionaire is he is truly happy, and you will find that he always needs more.  True happiness is something elusive and always just around the corner in this world.

Once a rich young man came to Jesus and asked what good deed he must do to inherit eternal life.  Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor.” (Matthew 19:21).  The next verse (22) says the man went away sad because he had great wealth.  Then Jesus told his disciples: “I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” (Matthew 19:24)

 To me, this sure sounds like the idea of redistributing wealth is not Communist at all.  It’s Christian!

What Are You Taking for Granted?

 

In our modern world, we take so many things for granted.  A couple of weeks ago, the pump on our well stopped working.  All of a sudden, there was no water when I turned on the faucet.

A call to the well-driller brought the suggestion to shut it all down for an hour and then try to restart it.  So we did.  It worked, but then the same thing happened the next day!  Another attempt was made to reboot it with the hour-long shut off.

It happened again on Christmas Day and New Year's Day.  Someone is trying to get our attention.

I realize our house is past ten years old, and nowadays that means things are going to break down.  Some of our appliances have already had to be replaced.  Not complaining.  It’s just life.

But this whole experience has made me realize how many things we do take for granted.  Like the water coming on every time we turn the faucet handle.  Or the lights coming on whenever I hit the switch.  Even my phone and my computer making it so much easier to do research and to write.

Many of us are old enough to remember the days of typewriters and rotary-dial phones.  (My first two books were originally typed on a manual typewriter!)  But I fear our numbers are dwindling.  What kind of things will our children and grandchildren never experience?  Kind of like how we (and often our parents) never experienced travel in a horse-drawn covered wagon, homes without indoor plumbing or electricity, and travel from Kalispell to Eureka taking days rather than under two hours.

Right now our well is working again, after the second reboot.  But I don’t take that water in my sink or shower for granted anymore.  I realize it could disappear any day now.

I think the timing of this wake-up call event was good, with Thanksgiving just around the corner.  I have a lot more things to be thankful for than I realized, and I hope to stop taking them for granted.