He is risen!
And I am completely exhausted.
But happy.
I woke up at 5:00 a.m. this morning in order to get to Arm Stephen Lutheran church in Gladstone on time. I ordered a Lyft ride. I splurged and rode the entire trip instead of to the Delta Park Max stop. I didn't want to chance being late.
I played two services today.
The first was a traditional service. I played only pipe organ. I have been petrified all week. I told the pastor I am a pianist, not an organist. But that I have played the organ. I practiced on the organ at St. Stephen once. And twice at St. Mark's in Portland.
But every organ is different. The organ at St. Stephen has no preset stops. Which means I wish I had another hand to operate the stops while I played the two keyboards. I also cheated and didn't play the foot keyboard. Shhh! Don't tell!
I learned how to use a 16 foot stop to give a nice deep sound.
I arrived in Gladstone about an hour early. I stopped at "Heavenly Donuts" (appropriate name, right?!) and had a bagel and coffee. I then looked through all my music, made sure it was in order and rehearsed both services in my head.
What? In my head?
Yes! I tell you, it can be done. Honestly some of my best practice is in my head. After one run through, I munched my bagel and sipped my bitter, black coffee. There was television behind the counter. I picked up the words, "fatalities" and "churches"
"Oh, no", I thought. I looked up at the screen in time to catch the news of the bombings at the churches in Sri Lanka.
I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. No matter how many shootings, bombings, killings, I always feel it viscerally. It is so tragic to hear of such evil. I am waiting to hear if they find the parties responsible.
As I packed up my bag to walk to church, the sun came out from behind a cloud. I hear some squawking and looked up in time to see a flock of Canadian geese. Everywhere, flowers were blooming. I sneezed. And then I looked up to see the darling little Lutheran church was I was to play this morning. It is an older, brick church, perched innocently on a corner block in a neighborhood amongst small family homes.
Innocent.
Like the victims of the church bombings. I stopped in my tracks for a moment and said a prayer. I imagined if it were a church I was attending, or my family or friends. I reached deep to pull up more compassion. I feel like I so often take my safe, comfortable life for granted.
The pastor asked us to keep our brothers and sisters in Sri Lanka in our prayers as the candles were being lit.
Both church services went smoothly. I was surprised at how many people complimented me on my organ playing. One of the men from the bell choir said it was "beautiful and smoothly played." I thanked him and told him that meant a lot to me since I am not really an organist.
He chucked and said I could have fooled him.
I then remembered a line from one of the books I recently read. I think it was by Richard Grant.
"I'm not a hunter", he said.
He had just made his first kill. One of his buddies looked at him and said, "You made a kill, you are a hunter".
So I played the organ. I guess that makes me an organist?
Honestly, it was such a positive experience today. I managed to stay humble and remember why I was there. I said a prayer before the service that I contribute to worship. I was friendly, but stayed mostly on task.
I think I might want to finally study the pipe organ! Add that to my list of books to read, videos to watch, classes to take. I hope they have books in heaven. I need more time!
Speaking of heaven, I finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom on the bus ride home today. It is seriously the best of all his books I have read so far.
I want to share this quote from the Author's Note at the front of the book. (This is actually from the front of The Next Person You Meet in Heaven. It is similar, but more in depth):
"This story, like The Five people You Meet in Heaven, was inspired by my beloved uncle, Eddie Beitchman, a World War II vet who thought he was "a nobody, who never did nothing."
When I was a child, Eddie told me of a night he nearly died at a hospital, and rose from his body to see his departed loved ones waiting for him, at the edge of the bed.
From that moment, I viewed heaven as a place where we encounter those we touched on earth, and where we get to see them again. But I recognize this is my view only. There are many others, along with many religious definitions, and all should be respected.
So this novel, and its version of the afterlife, is a wish, not a dogma, a desire that loved ones like Eddie find the peace that eluded them on earth, and realize how much we all affect one another, every day of this precious life." The Next Person You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom
Read this book!
Well, I probably need to stop here. I am bone tired. And the man on the computer in front of me keeps turning around and glaring at me.
I am typing at the speed of light. Well probably 140 wpm...at least that's what my top speed was last time I checked. He's probably just jealous.
 |
| P.S. I just discovered the $.50 coffee at BK! |
So I will give the man in the next row a respite from my fast, noisy typing (must be due to all those years of piano lessons) and make
a tree and leave!
a tree and leave!
Happy Sunday!
Talk to you tomorrow!
Love,
Zita
 |
| Tired me with my $.50 coffee on Saturday |
And today's hooping video. Day 50!
Comments
Post a Comment