The Music Gene

I have a nephew, C, my brother's son, who I will always picture in my mind as a cute blonde boy who looks exactly like my brother did. So, these days I'm always a little shocked when I see him: he dyed his hair deep black and wears it in spikes, so he looks a lot different. I am sorry to say that I have a hard time getting used to his "new" look, even though it's not so new.

On Sunday, he was at the reunion with my brother, and he started playing the little piano out in the foyer. He was playing his own compositions, jamming on the piano, playing by ear in a kind of a jazz style. Not longer afterward, one of my elderly aunts came in, her daughter pushing her wheelchair. "Who is that?" she called out. "Is that C? I didn't know he was so talented!" She had my cousin push her over while she listened to him play in rapt attention.

We found out that one of my Massachussetts cousin's boys is also musical. He also played a little for us, later on in the afternoon. And my cousin took out his video camera at one point and videotaped my nephew, the one with the spiky black hair, playing and singing an acoustic version of one of his own songs.

In an odd sort of way, this brings me back to my childhood, and one of my uncle's rare visits. At some point we would gather around the piano, and he would entertain us with the many classical pieces that he knew by heart. He always closed the "program" by playing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in the style of every famous composer we could think of, from Bach to Gershwin. Everyone in the family was in awe of his musical talent; everyone in the family also developed a love and appreciation for music, just because of my musical uncle.

My uncle became a pastor, not a musician, but I don't remember hearing him preach much. I do remember, however, listening to him talk about Bach and Chopin, Brahms and Schubert and Strauss. Even now, I'm told he knows a lot of music by heart.

So yesterday we were gathered around a piano once again, not listening to Bach, but listening to and admiring the talent of a spiky-haired young man, who sang and played the same instrument as my uncle, but in such a different way. The music gene has somehow been passed along, from one generation to another.

Thank God that we have been given the eyes to see it, the ears to recognize it, and the hearts to receive it.

Cousins

It's been a busy weekend, it seems. The Senior Pastor left on Thursday for vacation, so I am holding down the fort right now. This isn't usually the busiest time of the year, but it seemed busy anyway, with July 4th activities and sermon-writing and learning, a ball game last night, and a sort-of mini family reunion today of some of my father's relatives. One of my cousins, who moved out to Massachusetts many years ago, e-mailed my brother and said he was going to be in town this weekend, driving in with his seven children, who range in age from 26 to 3. So we invited my dad's two sisters and their families, and had a little open house in the afternoon for whoever could come.

My dad is the "baby" of his family. That's what his sisters always said, whenever we got together. So everyone was there with a walker, and a few of my cousins were able to make it too. Sadly, even though most of us live in the same city (except for the one from Massachusetts), we don't get together very often. We reminisced about the times we got together on Sunday nights to watch Disney and eat grocery bags full of popcorn. I remembered the hand-me-downs I got from one of my cousins, the sleepovers at grandma and grandpa's house, the chaotic Christmases when we were all young.

My cousin is the same age as I am. But his father was an Evangelical pastor, and we didn't get together very often. I remember a few summer get-togethers, my uncle sitting on the back steps, playing the acccordian (he is a gifted musician), or at picnics. The picture above is one the the few of me with my cousin, when we were both small.

Even when I neglect them, I discover that the family connections are still there. It's the 21st century, and before leaving, we exchanged email addresses. Perhaps we'll keep in better contact from now on. We'll see.

I suspect that the same thing is true in our faith family: we neglect these most important connections, with our brothers and sisters in Christ, and for so many different reasons. But still we are connected, though not even suspecting the faces, the gifts, the relationships we miss. We're connected by the bread and the wine that we share, by music and food and prayers -- and so many other things. And still we let the days tumble by, when family reunions are happening all the time, with our unknown relatives.

A July 4 Sermon

I direct your attention to a sermon I preached a few years ago for the fourth of July weekend.

Happy Fourth of July.

Friday Five: Fireworks Edition

Sally over at Revgalblogpals brings us a crashing friday five:


I have to admit that I am chuckling to myself a little; how strange it seems for me a Brit to be posting the Friday Five on 4th July! I realise that most of our revgals will be celebrating in some way today, but I hope that you can make a little room for Friday Five! From my short stay in Texas my memories of the celebrations are of fireworks and picnics, one year we went in to central Houston to watch the fireworks and hear the Symphony Orchestra play, we were welcomed and included, and that meant a lot! So lets have a bit of fun:


1. Barbeques or picnics ( or are they essentially the same thing?)
Well, it's been a long time since I've been on a real, honest-to-goodness picnic, where you go to a park somewhere else (not your back yard),bring the picnic basket and the cooler with the potato salad, and get together with family and friends. You can certainly barbeque at a picnic, but to me, that's what a picnic is. Once our family had a spur-of-the moment, non-Fourth picnic by a lake with Kentucky Fried Chicken, which was a relatively new thing back then. I kind of miss picnics, but they're a bit more work than just the backyard barbeque.


2. The park/ the lake/ the beach or staying at home simply being?
I like to relax, so the park is best, as long as there is some "simply being" time penciled in! I also like an outdoor concert. The community I live in does a carnival over the 4th, a street dance, and special concerts.


3. Fireworks- love 'em or hate 'em?
I reallly like them, as long as they are not over-long, and parking is not too much of a headache. We used to be able to watch our community's fireworks from our backyard. Or, if we wanted a better view, we would walk a few blocks. That was the BEST. Our dog does NOT like fireworks, however.


4. Parades- have you ever taken part- share a memory...
I took part in our community's 4th of July Parade the first year I was here. The church had an anniversary banner, and another woman and I carried it, waved at people, and threw candy. We also had a few people ride in the church van (now defunct). It was really a good introduction to the community.


5. Time for a musical interlude- if you could sum up holidays in a piece of music what would it be?

Stars and Stripes forever, played by a band, while Marching in the Parade.

However, here is another interpretation:

A Garden Where I Don't Plant or Weed

This is my new favorite place to take Scout for a walk. What else can I say? It contains a rose garden, a peace garden, and a bird sanctuary. Here we can stop and smell the roses for awhile.

On Monday, on our first walk over here, we met a very young bicyclist who took time to pet Scout. I admired his bike, and said it was small: a good size. He informed me that, though small, the bike could go up to 30 miles per hour when he "really got cooking."

A cell phone wielding speed walker stopped long enough to say to Scout, "Hi Sweetie" before continuing her conversation. (I'm pretty sure she was talking to Scout.)

Early this morning we went back to the gardens and ran into the gardeners doing their secret work. A couple of young women were pulling weeds. What a wonderful job, to be able to work in the midst of such beauty, and peace.

Gardening

Last night I decided to do a little gardening, something I am not good at. I love to admire other people's gardens. Part of me yearns to do it myself. But the combination of many nights working and a sort of (well) innate laziness leads to a lack of prolonged gardening efforts. Plus, I do not know much about plants, other than "I like the way that looks." (I do know the difference between an annual and a perenniel, though.)

Last night I was doing a little digging and planted a few herbs. That was all I was going to do, and it was going to be enough. I went to the nursery, bought dirt and a couple of tools, and started to get the dirt ready (with my new digging fork!). (it is rumored to be ergonomically healthy!)

But then I noticed all of the saplings that are sprouting up in our yard. Some of them are still pretty small, and others are ridiculous, and they are in where the peonies are supposed to be. I started digging up saplings in the garden. It was about 90 degrees out. And those roots were pretty stubborn and deep. They wanted to live. I didn't want them to.

I just got a few saplings out. There is a lot more hard work ahead, a lot more stubborn roots wanting to live, and helicopter seeds still swirling around, desperately trying to take root and multiply. Most of these seeds come from an ancient tree in our front yard, an ancient tree that (we think) is beginning to die. So it is creating more and more seeds, more and more saplings, trying (as one of my parishoners said) to "expand its territory." (Sort of like Jabez, I said.)

But I am the enemy of life right now, digging up deep roots, throwing out branches, going after small trees just trying to live -- all because they happen to be in the wrong place.

It's an odd assignment.

You Make My Day

Marsha over at Just Some Thoughts has given me a very lovely award called You Make My Day. It is pretty, isn't it? Just the kind of thing you want to put on your sidebar.

Marsha was one of the first people to read and comment on my blog. (Actually, she might have been the first commenter.) Imagine my surprise and delight late one evening as I was writing a blog post, thinking that my wise words were going out into nothingness, and all of a sudden, there were nice words underneath one of my posts! This is when my addiction started.

This was also back in the day when I didn't know how to put up an image, or a hyperlink, or put fancy designs on my sidebar. Marsha actually was one of the people who helped me learn how to do some of those things. (Barbara has also been very helpful.)

Anyway, the hardest thing about getting these awards is deciding who to pass them along to. Several of my blog friends are "can't miss" for their everyday posts, but today I want to honor Ruth at Ruth's Visions and Revisions. I love reading her daily posts, and when she comes over to make a comment, it also makes my day!