WEEKEND UPDATE

Christmas Eve by Candlelight

On Christmas Eve of 2022, I played for the 10 pm Candlelight Service at Zion Lutheran Church in Amor, MN. I’ve accompanied this service since 1978, and I’ve watched it transition from Zion’s popular and crowded only service, to one of three. Over the years, the 10 pm time slot has been surpassed by the more convenient times of 3 pmand 5 pm. For me, this has made the late worship even more significant.

Many of the worshippers are people I don’t know and haven’t seen before. They are quiet and attentive. They sing softly and purposefully – never forced; yet despite the power of the grand piano, I can hear individual voices.

The service is well-structured and moves smoothly between readings and songs. I rarely look at the congregation because I’m busy stacking my music, double-checking key signatures, where to start the introductions, and how many verses to play. I bring a small study lamp so I can see my hands while accompanying “Silent Night” during the candlelight section of the service. (Last year, Pastor Doug accurately noted using the lamp was probably a lesson I “learned the hard way.”) As I picked up my lamp and set it on the music table, I turned to the piano and glanced over my right shoulder.

I was surprised to see the church was already enveloped in darkness. I could see shapes and realized the congregants were standing. Pastor Doug was reading, “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him….But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave the power to become children of God…” (John 1: 9, 10, 12). The dots of candlelight were scattered throughout the room – not as a sea of light, but as separate flames, each connected to a being as a small flicker of promise.

The sparseness in the sanctuary held a striking beauty. The number of people at the service, how many knew each other, or how loudly they sang couldn’t lessen the power of a small light to shine in the darkness.

Wherever and whenever you worship, may the light reach you.

~ Always

CAKE?

One June night/morning after school was out. I was working really late (about 2am) and went up to the 2nd floor faculty room. Turned out there was cake left over from the week before (I know. It was old, but it was cake). The room had full windows from ceiling to floor, and I had all the lights on.

So there I stood, eating a 3-day-old piece of cake on a paper plate when a hunched-over cop in the hallway creeped by the windows. I was in full view, but he kept looking straight ahead and didn’t turn to look at me.

Dumbfounded, I didn’t know what to do, but I figured I had to make my presence known. I didn’t dare not to because I needed to get back to my room downstairs. So I flicked the lights.

The cop turned in alarm, and I simply waved a little. He opened the door and practically shouted, “Do you realize I just had my gun drawn?!” I said, “I work here,” then I held the plate forward and asked, “Cake?” (I was tempted to say, “It’s a good thing I didn’t have a gun drawn cuz you just walked right past me.” But I figured that was a bad, bad idea.)

The guy was about thirty and really mad at me. Geez. I still can’t figure out how he missed my room downstairs with all its lights and a loud TV, and THEN walked by the faculty workroom lit up like daytime without even noticing.

When school started in the fall, I told all my seniors about it, and we laughed hysterically..

The Rapture Fear

Years ago, a friend I worked with mentioned the rapture fairly often. He’d ask me, “Have you heard about the next potential rapture?” (I hadn’t.) Then he’d end with, “You might want to be outside at 7pm Saturday night.” (Or 11am, 3 pm, different days, etc.)

This confused me, but we were always between classes, so I had no time to follow up. The topic would resurface a couple of times a year, and eventually, I had to know what this rapture stuff meant to my friend,

So I finally asked, “Just what are you talking about? And why do you always say I might want to be outside?”

He had a simple answer, “Well, just in case you believe, I thought you’d want to know so you don’t go through the roof of a building. I sure don’t want to.”

I swear the guy must’ve smoked weed every day.

My Grandson, Advice for a Duet Player

I’ve been a pianist forever and taught piano for 33 years. A couple of years ago, my grandson had been playing about 6 months and was working on a duet.

Me: Do you want me to play the duet part with you?
Calvin: But you’d have to play the bottom part.
Me: Yes, I can do that.
Calvin: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I’m sure.
Calvin: Are you good at BASS CLEF? Maybe you want to practice tonight, and we’ll play it tomorrow.
Me: 😳

Kids are a riot! ALL AGES!

Confrontation About a Stroller

I learned something interesting in the summer of 1984: Amish men will speak up if they choose to. We have many Amish families within about thirty miles of where I used to teach school. When my younger daughter was about 16 months old, I was at a garage sale in that same town. I’d put her in an umbrella stroller while I shopped and navigated the cars, driveways, and sidewalks. She was just a bit fussy, but not crying or screaming.

An Amish man was glaring at me and finally said, “What do you expect, Woman? You have your child in prison.” I was so shocked, first because he spoke to me at all, second because I wasn’t sure what he meant, and third because he was so confrontational. I was really flummoxed and must’ve asked, “What?” (I don’t remember that clearly) because he repeated himself even louder, and he was not soft-spoken the 1st time.

As soon as I realized what he meant, I was furious. I looked right at him and assured him my child was NOT in prison, she was simply safely under my supervision, and as her mother, she was my responsibility not his. That did not go over well, and he countered with, “You women have no rules, no morals. How dare you talk to me like that?” I was angry, as was he. The husband who lived at the house started to walk toward us, and the Amish man left.

I remember exactly where that house and garage was, and every time I drive by it, the memories come back. I am NOT suggesting all Amish men act that way; I actually have no idea. I have encountered many over the years, and I’ve never seen one speak to a stranger before. Regardless, this was not a good experience.

To Whom it May Concern

This is my first entry, and it shall be “short,” but not a “story.” As I used to tell my composition students, “You can’t sit and stare at a blinking cursor forever. Just write something. You can always move it around or change it later, but unless you put something down, you have nothing to work with.”

It was good advice, and I need to listen to myself. I have had, and still do have, an interesting life. I have experienced, overheard, and observed some hilarious, tragic, quirky, curious, touching, and downright bizarre things. When I was teaching, I told and retold some of these little “stories,” and that kept them alive. When I retired, I decided to blog some before I forgot them. It is over a year later now, so I need to get started.

My father used to type letters in which each paragraph was similar to a blog entry. When finished, he would “xerox” and mail his 1 – 3 page letter to his friends and family. Except for the delivery system, I assume my blog will be somewhat similar.

My writings certainly are not meant to be symbolic or didactic or profound. Instead, my entries are primarily for reflecting, questioning, safekeeping, and, perhaps, some entertainment. 

I hope you find a few of them interesting.