Being Kind and Encouraging? Sweet. Bittersweet.

A Year of Being Kind blog – Thursday, October 30, 2014

Being Kind and Encouraging? Sweet. Bittersweet.

I wear several hats most days. A very important hat I wear is that of Mom. I’ve been a Mom for quite some time. My older two daughters have been out of the house for some years. I have a third daughter who is away at college. And then there is my son—a senior in high school. So, yes. I have been a Mom for a long time. Secondly, there is Wife. I try to be a good companion, friend and helpmate to my husband. That’s another hat. The third hat concerns my work—it’s called Pastor. I earnestly try to serve the congregation as well as I can. Praying for them, teaching bible studies, preparing services and sermons, and especially through pastoral care. That’s a third hat, an important hat I wear. Most days.

Except, today. My husband had a dental appointment this morning, and didn’t go to work. Yes, I did go in to work for a few hours, but I took the opportunity to come home a little early this afternoon. And, my son was here at home. All three of us, here in the living room. Talking earnestly, engaging in serious conversation. Earlier, my son made another brief video and put it up on Facebook. He proudly showed it off to his father and to me, and we all discussed it. Then, branched off into related topics.

Our lively, three-way conversation didn’t last too long, but I enjoyed it while it lasted.

Afterwards, upon reflection, I thought about my youngest son. I did my very best to be encouraging and tried to show my interest in what he was doing. He was so animated and excited about his latest video. Moreover, he and his father always get involved in such interesting conversations. As I looked at them talking together, I couldn’t help but think that soon my son is going to graduate from high school. Soon, he’ll be out of the house, too. Soon, my third daughter is going to graduate from college. And then—get launched into her own activities.

Gracious, if I am not careful, I’m going to get weepy. Maudlin. Even, down in the dumps. Depressed. It’s a good thing I wear several different hats. I’ll just need to get used to hanging up the Mom hat most of the time. But that doesn’t mean I need to stop being an encouragement and being kind to my children. God, please go with them, wherever they go.

Yes, I am so glad my children are grown, or are growing up. Yes, I am so proud of them, that they are so accomplished in so many different ways. And, yes, I will miss having children around the house. Sweet. And bittersweet.

@chaplaineliza

Like what you read? Disagree? Share your thoughts with your loved ones and continue the conversation.

Being Kind, Going to a Band Concert

A Year of Being Kind blog – Sunday, August 17, 2014

Being Kind, Going to a Band Concert

My husband and I went to a band concert today. Yes, an outdoor summer band concert, a community band. With two Sousa marches, a Leroy Anderson tune, and Percy Granger among the music on the program. With the added sparkle of a Wizard of Oz medley, plus a Louis Armstrong retrospective. Who could ask for anything more?

Except—this wasn’t merely a pleasant Sunday summer’s afternoon event. No, our daughter was one of the band members. So, attending the band concert was in part showing support for our daughter and her band, and, the band’s director, Dr. Dave Fodor. We heard the Wilmette Community Band this afternoon, and their performance was by turns rousing, enjoyable, and even touching.

My daughter Rachel has been playing bass clarinet and contra-clarinet for the past number of years. Since she was living at home with us for the past year, and the band director happened to know she was available to play in the community band, she has been providing them some bass support. (She very much likes to play those low notes!) This was the last opportunity she had to play with the band, because she is going away to college in just a few days. And—my husband and I took the opportunity to attend their open-air summer concert.

My husband and I have both participated in a number of musical groups, in grammar school, high school, college, and afterwards. (Including recently.) We are accustomed to rehearsals, keeping track of music and musical instruments, and performing for various kinds of audiences. (This afternoon’s audience was genial, friendly and laid back. Just what a summer concert audience ought to be.) It’s a wonderful thing to pass on a love for music to our daughter. Not only an appreciation for music, in a listening-kind-of-sense, but also an enjoyment in performance, as well.

Sure, I enjoyed attending the concert! But who says being kind and enjoyment are mutually exclusive? Both my husband and I were and are awfully proud of our daughter. She played very well, in her usual capable, workmanlike manner. (As my husband said, “I expected no less.” <grin>) Yes, of course I attended my daughter’s concert today! And, I am trying my best to express kindness to her, along with love and appreciation.

As we count down the days until my daughter goes away to college, I am doing my best to savor what time I have with her. Those last, few days.

@chaplaineliza

Like what you read? Disagree? Share your thoughts with your loved ones and continue the conversation.

Hush Up!

A Year of Being Kind blog – Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Hush Up!

Rhetorical question: am I doing an act of service if I keep my mouth closed?

Let me back up, and give some context to my question. After I dropped my son off at the high school in town, I went to the gym at the YMCA, as often is my practice. I really like using the track on the floor above the main gym most days. Today was no different. I quickly changed in the locker room and went upstairs, through the cardio and weight room through to the large gym. I had totally forgotten that this was Wednesday. (I usually don’t go to the gym on Wednesdays, for a variety of reasons. But I did today.)

As I warmed up and stretched, and started my workout on the track, I noticed some people coming in to the main gym. Oh, no! Today is Zumba day. Don’t get me wrong—I sometimes watch the people doing Zumba to the energetic, pounding music, and it’s wonderful cardio-vascular exercise. It’s the music that sometimes gets on my nerves. Today was particularly annoying. The first song that was played as I power-walked and jogged around the track had four chords. A four-chord progression, played over and over and over and . . . you get the idea. Repetitive, mind-numbing. It almost made me want to scream. It went on for seven minutes. (Yes, I watched the clock as I circled the track.)

I’m a classically-trained musician. Piano is my primary instrument, and composition was my emphasis for my undergraduate degree in music. I usually can “turn off my ears” and ignore or just not pay attention to poorly composed or performed music. But not today. As I went around the track for a good part of those seven minutes, I felt like giving someone a piece of my mind. Grrr! But I didn’t. It came to me (I suspect God brought this thought to me) that by complaining and kvetching to whatever unlucky YMCA staff member was on duty this morning, I really wouldn’t accomplish much of anything. The Y staff member would probably cluck his or her tongue, nod understandably and say, “There, there.” Or words to that effect. I know. I’ve worked in customer service, and that’s what I would have done in a similar situation.

Instead, I had another thought—also inspired by God, I think. This morning was an opportunity for me to practice forbearance and patience. Two fruits of the Spirit that are not as readily apparent in my character as they ought to be. I kept my mouth shut. I did not blow up or gripe to any Y staff or to the Zumba leader. People have a perfect right to listen to whatever kind of music that they like.

What about a positive act of service? Later, I saw another Y staff member wearing a really pretty sweater today. I smiled at her and gave her a sincere compliment on the sweater. She blossomed, telling me that her daughter had given her the sweater for Christmas, and she’d be sure to tell the daughter.

I think both were acts of service. I was proud of myself. And I think God was amused.

@chaplaineliza