like riding a bike

A few times now recently I have warmed the bench of the piano at the Catholic parish where I had served as music and liturgy director before the elder lad arrived on the scene.  Going back to play the piano is at once easy yet challenging, comfortable yet awkward, as not only am I not exactly in practice like I was when I was playing several masses in one weekend, but also time has marched on for the people of that parish just as it has for my family and me.  Some things are as ever. Some things are a lot different.  In many ways, it's like riding a bike: it all comes back quickly once I settle down and get going.

Few things allow me a more direct route to that place of prayer in action like playing the piano at Mass.  It truly is a blessing and honor to be able to use this gift from God at his service.  Balancing serving him by playing at mass with serving him by serving my young family at home is something I'm still trying to discern and navigate.  I always envisioned my children nearby as I played the piano, either at home or church, somehow finding it completely normal for me to be doing that while they were doing something else.  It hasn't worked out that way.  Maybe the time for that is just now beginning, or maybe it has yet to arrive, or maybe the eventual solution will be somewhere in between...

speed dial

In case you've been trying to put a face with my name, here's a fairly recent portrait by the younger lad:

"Momm" by Younger Lad, age 4.5 • November 2011

Yes: my hair usually does look like that, and I'm trying to incorporate more "bling" into my everyday look with accessories and embellishments.

These bambini of mine are by turns sweet, spirited, imaginative, and resilient.  They along with my beloved play a major role in the ongoing process that is my conversion of heart to the will of Christ.

Someone who always spoke of the lofty nature of motherhood while acknowledging its far less glamorous aspects was the pastor emeritus of the parish where I served as director of music and liturgy for a few years.  He was a man of such size and stature as to cause young children to wonder if he was God or Santa Claus.   He died a few days before Christmas this past year, and his absence is felt keenly by those whose souls he tended for many years and whose hearts he lifted with words of encouragement and prayer. 

I had the great honor of playing the piano at the vigil service held for him the night before his funeral was celebrated.  I chose music to reflect the servant leadership he so deftly offered as well as music that summoned the prayers of Christ's mother Mary, whom this Irish Catholic priest (as noted by the funny sign stationed at the head of his casket for the vigil that proclaimed "parking for Irish Catholic priest only") held in highest regard and mused about often. 

The well-timed phone calls from him are sorely missed, not just by me but by lots of folks, I'm sure.  The brief exchanges of pleasantries and vocational affirmation always helped me in my quest to mother intentionally, faithfully, and gently.  As much as I miss those phone calls now, I trust he continues to pray for us, and that those prayers are carried to the Father speedily. 

With sincere appreciation for my mother, my beloved's mother, our grandmothers, godmothers, aunts, cousins, and friends who mother us so lovingly and for those who support and care for mothers of any kind, I pray the Lord will bless in a special way those who are in dire need of mothering, whatever their age, and in need of someone like this dear priest to affirm them in living out the call of Christ. 

graced and gifted

We returned to the parish where I worked as music and liturgy director before motherhood for the Confirmation of my elder lad's Godmother's 17-year-old younger lad.  The presence of the Holy Spirit was keenly felt in the reverent, relevant liturgy as these young people took ownership of their faith. 

It's been five years since I departed that post, and every time we've been back to visit it's startling to me seeing how the kids I remember as little like my own are now have grown into adolescents and young adults.  I'm sure it will likewise be the case for my own children -- before I know it, they'll be "big kids" like the ones I saw last night.

That parish community will always have a special place in my heart.  They were very gracious to me as a young single gal with a decent amount of musical experience and an aptitude for the liturgical side of things, but lacking in experience serving a parish in this capacity.  I owe them so much for their kindness and willingness to bear work with me.  For their warm welcome and the sense of belonging we feel whenever we return, I will always be grateful.

As they move forward, I pray these Confirmandi (the newly Confirmed) will always be mindful of the gifts and fruits with which they've been sealed in this Sacrament, this visible sign of God-given Grace, and draw upon these to become the people Christ calls them to be.

girlfriends

Shortly after I accepted the post as director of music and liturgy way back in the day, I received a note in the mail from the director of religious education at the parish welcoming me aboard and thanking me for taking the job.  I had met her a few times already because I had been playing the early Sunday morning Mass at the parish for a few months before taking on the full time job, but I didn't know her very well.  That gesture of friendship and hospitality was the beginning of a very dear friendship that continues today.

She is a mentor to me in many ways, especially in living out this vocation of marriage and motherhood.  She has two sons and a daughter close in age like I do -- but they're teenagers now, so she has much-needed perspective, experience, and insight to offer me.  She shares my affinity for chocolate, and she is my elder lad's Godmother.  We are bonded forever in a special sort of sisterhood.  Her sensitivity and faith-informed insights have proven invaluable aids to many seeking spiritual direction, hope, healing, and renewal.  She is a reflection Christ's love to everyone she encounters.

Today is her birthday.  I wish for her a year full of blessings, hope, joy, peace, and grace.  Love and cheers to you, girlfriend...

back on the bench

A few weeks ago, the music director for the Catholic parish to which we belonged before moving to bigger digs in a different area of town to accommodate our growing family asked me to substitute for the organist at one of this weekend's Masses.  I agreed with some trepidation, because I just can't "wing it" like I maybe could have a few years ago when I was playing the piano all the time.  Practice time is limited at best.  It cannot be my highest priority.  And besides that, to just "wing it" at Mass is simply disrespectful in my mind and therefore unacceptable.  Christ and His people deserve better.

Still, a trained, seasoned musician like I am should've been able to realize that something was amok *and solve the problem* sooner than I did when I sat down to play this morning.  The piano in this church is situated with its soundboard facing a brick half wall -- not the most ideal, acoustically-speaking.  As I played the first notes of the opening hymn, I tried my best to project the sound as I had been trained.  Try as I might, it sounded as though I were playing in a sock.  Having had only a couple sips of coffee this morning, I thought this was owing to the piano's facing the wall and continued to play as heavily as I could with a disproportionately delicate sound emanating from the piano.  It was only a little while later (after a few more fuzzy songs) that I realized the middle pedal was stuck down, and once I dislodged it, things were much different.  It would not surprise me if people in the back were surprised to hear a piano suddenly playing at all halfway through Mass, as I suspect I wasn't all that audible up til then.

These substitution outings are not easy undertakings for me -- or my family.  There are some logistical aspects of them that are larger than just me.  When I was about 15 or so, I broke my wrist Rollerblading.  Several weeks into my recovery, I boldly told my mother that I was ready to Rollerblade again and that if I got hurt again I'd just have to deal with it.  She was quick to point out that I wasn't the only one having to deal with it -- the entire family was affected.   In some respects, today's outing was similar.  Instead of going to the parish we now call home and celebrating the First Sunday of Advent with our present parish family, we returned to the one we'd left a little over a year ago.  My father came (as would have my mother and sister, had they not been indisposed), and so did my beloved's parents.   It was a later Mass than we usually attend, which spelled a set back in the lunch & siesta routine we try hard to maintain for our bambini's collective benefit.

But I can honestly say it was worth it.  Looking out across the congregation, I caught my younger lad's eye.  He smiled and waved at me.  Seeing his sweet face, and then those of the rest of my family gathered there to support me, I was filled with a sense of gratitude for the season of life in which I now find myself.  I was so happy to see him run up to me after Mass, and hear him thinking back through our outing this morning as he settled in for bed tonight: "You play the pwano.  You not break it.  Daddy not play the pwano.  We stand up.  We kneel..." 

I was honored to be asked to play today, and though I may not have given the cleanest performance, I gave the best one I could given the parameters within which I work these days.  I wanted my children to see me using the gift God has given me in His service.  That's an important example I hope they internalize.

It was a fitting beginning of Advent, the season in which we prepare the way of the Lord, awaiting His coming with hopeful expectation, readying our hearts and minds for God's ultimate gift to humanity.   Stuck pedals notwithstanding, these four weeks of Advent are our opportunity to lay the gifts God has given us at His feet.  His Grace will make them perfect.

my former life

Before marriage and motherhood, I spent a lot of time perched on a piano bench.  It was a favorite spot of mine from the time I was a wee lass, so much so that I majored in piano in college at the encouragement of my aunt Robin (an encouragement that took on an added dimension of poignancy when she died of breast cancer at the age of 37 when I was a junior in college preparing for my recital).

Determined *not* to be a piano teacher, I instead set out to be an arts administrator.  I landed an internship in the development (i.e. fundraising) offices at Lyric Opera of Chicago the summer after Aunt Robin died. Promotional writing for special events was a primary focus of my internship, and it led to my first job out of college as a PR lackey for the local (now defunct but resuscitated under new leadership and an inventive business model) professional orchestra.  Here I learned a lot about mass media (even embarking upon a master's degree in this field), marketing, and graphic design, and put a ridiculous number of miles on my little car ferrying musicians (and signage and props and even a beer keg for a season wrap party) around the region.  I was very fortunate to have several articles published in the monthly magazine of the performing arts center where the orchestra gave two of its concert series, something which led to future publishing opportunities and a keener interest in writing and communications.

When the orchestra met its unfortunate demise, I went to work as the director of music and liturgy for a local Catholic parish whose pastor had been stationed at my home parish when I was in middle school.  It was an honor to serve in this capacity, and a natural outlet for my musical training.  I had begun playing at Mass when I was a teenager and had done so throughout college. This stint coincided with one writing a monthly column for the diocesan newspaper.

Then I met my husband at an event for Catholic young adults.  Within a year of our meeting we were married, and soon thereafter our first child was on the way.  I left my post at the parish to devote myself to full-time mothering and home-tending.  Every once in a while I would substitute for a pianist at one of the local Catholic parishes.  Now with three small children, it's been a while since I played at Mass.  God willing, I'll be back on my piano bench perch sometime soon, for it is there that I am most sure to be utilizing the particular talents He has given me that I have cultivated through years of practice and study.

For now, though, I am cultivating other talents and striving for everyday sanctity by loving and caring for the ones He has placed in my midst, tending to their souls, praying for the Grace to reflect the Lord's love and light at every moment. It's my honor to do so, and I'm so grateful for the multitude of blessings bestowed upon me by living out this particular vocation to which God calls me -- one I pray I will share hand in hand with my beloved for length of days.