Five Years Ago Today

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Did you realize that five years ago today I published my first post here at Ladder of Mercy?  It's the post that tells you where the blog name came from, and it started a tradition of writing about hymns that I still love.

I thought it would be fun to take a quick snapshot of my life then, compared with my life now.  After all, half a decade can bring a lot of change! 

Back then, I was working as an administrative assistant.  I sometimes longed to earn my living from something "more creative", but was constantly reminded how much I was learning and growing in the field I was in.  {Now I wouldn't trade it for anything.}

Now, I work as a piano teacher (taught seven lessons today, and loved every minute--wish I had more!) as well as a housewife.

Back then, I had many friends who were housewives.  I knew they kept busy.  I know how busy there were now because I have time to carry the load of running the household smoothly.  I barely keep up!  But I love the opportunity to more carefully plan for meals and errands and laundry and summertime gardening.

Back then, I volunteered a lot at my local church.  I played the piano for services, organized everything musical, and even sat on the church board as clerk.  

Now, I haven't managed to volunteer at my new church much.  I frequently travel with my husband's music groups, and I was asked today to play the piano for a children's Sabbath school when I can.  I'm excited to re-enter the church-involvement part of my life back then that I loved so much.

Back then, I wondered if God was planning to unite my life to a husband.

Now, I see how brilliant His plan really was, and my appreciation for His leading and the man He put in my life daily grows.

Back then, I lived in a little rented three-bedroom house across the street from my office.  It had two apartments in the basement, and some flower beds out front that I used for my vegetable and flower garden.

Now, I live in a bigger house {my husband keeps saying we should fill it up with children...} that has a wonderful kitchen and a great big garden out back.  Rather than a busy street out front, we have a quiet neighborhood to live in, and an orchard behind our large back yard and garden.

Back then, I was within four driving hours of my parents and brother.

Now, I am thousands of miles away from my family AND my in-laws.  {Sometimes sacrifices must be made to follow the will of God and work in the harvest fields.}

Back then, I didn't dream of getting any more education.  Life was providing me with enough of that.

Now, I am blessed to have my master's degree.  I would have been the last one to guess it, but I'm grateful every day for the learning, experiences, and people God put in my life via graduate school.

Back then, I didn't have a camera, and I didn't include many photos in my sporadic posts.

Now, my goal is to invite  you here for new words and photos more and more often, with a constant desire to grow as a woman of God, as well as to bless you, my readers.  

Thank you for stopping by today for a visit.  I hope you'll stick around for my next five  years!

Comps are Coming: I am Studying

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Urzatz, urlinie, bassbrechung, motivic cell, chorale, oratorio, klang.....

Ostinato:  {usually} a short, repeating motivic figure that does not develop.  Sometimes these little guys seem to go on forever and ever.  As our Professor TT says, "I don't think we have a statute of limitations on ostinato."

Finals Week

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It's true.  I'd rather be sunning myself, like this little guy.

If the sun was out, that is.

But 24 hours from now the BIG ONE will be over.  And I'm sure I'll have passed.

Meanwhile, I'm working hard.

Recital program.  Recital Poster.  Recital Lecture notes.  Exam composers, terms, essasys.

Meanwhile, my husband studied all day, and is now folding laundry for me to study more. 

He doesn't have the time to do it either, but he does it out of love for me.

Isn't he great?

Eat Your Vegetables

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When you're a music student, in graduate school, pinching all your pennies and all your hours to get the absolute most out of each--consider yourself privileged, dear reader, that I am writing to you!--you sometimes shy away from going to yet another concert.
But you're husband is in it, the choir is good, and you need more recital credit anyway so it's homework, right?
You know you have to sit alone, so at the last minute, after the gift of supper at the cafeteria which you don't budget for but accept gladly, you call your girl-friend and ask if per chance she can leave her homework for an hour or so for an evening of music. It's for the visiting high school students, you say, but we're welcome and it should be fun.
She says yes. And it's the best choir performance you've heard since coming to school here. You know they're good, and you know you're spoiled rotten to hear them sing all the time, but this--this performance is exquisite, incredible, beyond belief. It's heart-stopping beautiful. Indescribably so.
Afterward, you go home and search for a good recording of the Frostiana pieces they sang--The Pasture, A Girl's Garden. All you manage to find on YouTube put together can't match the quality of the choir you've just heard, but you do stumble across a piece called Eat Your Vegetables.
It gets played over and over. You laugh. Your husband laughs too as soon as he hears it. You can't believe anyone wrote something that brilliant. You tell choir director husband that if he ever needs a secular piece, he should choose that one.
Next day, weary from the last couple of late music nights, you see the sign at the grocery store: "One-day produce sale."
You don't want to go grocery shopping until tomorrow, but you simply must go tonight after all. You know to eat your vegetables, and you know to buy them at a good price whenever they'll give ito you. Avocados? .48 each. Strawberries? .98 per package. Orange sweet potatoes? .38 per pound. Onions? .33 per pound.
Do you know we went without buying avocados for a year or more because they were always more than a dollar each? Do you know what it feels like to go without avocados for that long, and then buy eight in one night, when last week's green ones are still ripening in your basket at home?
It's pure privilege. It cannot be described in words.
You stock up. You call at least one friend. You thank God again for providing everything for all this scholarly time when the budget is small. You thank Him also for the musical food that floods the soul, knowing this privilege doesn't follow you everywhere you go. You thank Him for twice-daily family worships, for a solid spiritual leader in your home.
And you trust that whatever is ahead in the coming months, especially those just following your comprehensive exams, He will always provide exactly like He has always provided.

Valentine's Day in the Lunch Room

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For the last couple of days, talk in the lunch room has tentatively circled around the big Valentine's day--who's single, who's not, who hates the day single or not, who spends inordinate amounts of time making Valentine's cards for a sweetheart regardless of hate for the day....

"I've been alone for almost all the Valentine's days in my entire life," one friend lamented.

"Yeah, me too," I said.

Which is a true statement. Before the Valentine's day in 2009, I did spend them all by myself. Counting today, three out of twenty-eight with a sweetheart still leaves almost all of them without one.

I'm glad they laughed. It might have been a bit cheeky to say that with my husband sitting right next to me, committed to being my Valentine for life and celebrating with me come Thursday, but I did mean it to be funny.

And I hope they all--and you all--have a wonderful Valentine's day, even if you have your house to yourself to curl up with a favorite book {oh, wait, I mean Studies in Twentieth Century Music homework} like I do.

I Like Life, Life Likes Me

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You're thinking we must really love pancakes to make that many all at once. Well, we do. But I especially love not wasting food, so when the recipe said 2 tablespoons baking powder when it should have said 2 teaspoons baking powder, I had to take some drastic measures. Especially when I had decided to make a double batch so that there would be leftovers.

The two batches turned into six batches, and you would be amazed at how much better they tasted as six batches instead of two. Yes, I penciled in the correction for next time!

You know what else I love? YouTube. You might not think I'm a YouTube kind of girl, but I have discovered something. I can stay home while the bread bakes (another thing I love, but that I didn't do today) and do my listening/watching music homework on YouTube instead of spending that two hours in the library.

I also love the Naxos Music Library my school subscribes to. Another way to study at home instead of going back to school for a late evening.

But do you know what I don't love? Listening to freely atonal music. Watching ballet. Listening to twelve-tone music.

Will it be totally crazy, then, if I say I love analyzing freely atonal and twelve-tone music? Or the music that goes to the ballet? It's so wonderfully full of math, REALLY creative compositional technique (get out your scissors and glue...literally), and the catchy spark of imagination.

I love reading Henry Cowell, and imagining his new system of notation that would include a new-fangled "two-elevenths" notes. I love to imagine getting good enough to pick out the overtone series expressed rhythmically instead of harmonically through the multiple voices of a piece of music.

Is there anything better?

Well, yes. There's my husband, and the flowers he brought me a few days ago, the dishes he keeps washing when I don't want to, the music he writes, the total thoroughness with which he does all his work.

And of course, there's also my Savior, who forgives my stumblings (including my intentional ones), gives victory over thoughts the devil would love to have me dwell on, and pleads my case before His Father's throne--pleads with His own blood.

Musicians

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Things get goofy in the music department sometimes. We work hard, we get tired, we don't know where to find the next source for our research projects. We sit down on the couches in the lounge for supper, and the conversations take interesting turns.

One classmate is particularly known for her quick wit. I asked her what price she found on Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach's Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments.

Keep in mind that this man has been dead for a very long time, and has absolutely no need of a monthly income. Also keep in mind that our copies in the library look like an equivalent could be found for a more than reasonable price.

So when she replies "FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS", I nearly faint.

And she sympathetically blurts out, "It's a good thing you ain't pregnant, 'cause if you were, you would have just had your baby right then."

Another classmate offers this explanation for the high price:

They printed the translation in Taiwan and had to ship it accross the ocean in a row boat. The high price for each copy sold pays the rowers.

Evidently used copies sell for a little cheaper, and now you have a glimpse into the true life a musician.

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We had hardly been home for three days before we (translate I) made a long list entitled "things to accomplish before school starts". We had three weeks.

One item on it was to finish all my Alaska fishing posts. We are nearing the end of our third week back in school, and as you can see, my fishing posts aren't anywhere near complete! I do promise them someday, but I'm not going to guarantee when. As I told my mother the other day when she said it would be fun if I were on Facebook, "I hardly have time to clip my toenails, let alone join Facebook!"

Yes, I'm immersed in music and studies at present, and spent some time with the Bach French and English keyboard suites, as you might be able to tell from a miss-spelling on a little menu item on my list last week: "Yam/Suite Potato Fries". Or should that have been sweet potatoes instead?

But we did pick blueberries (as you can see from the photo) before school started, and managed a few other homey chores in the mix. And we're enjoying the beginnings of fall in Michigan--which reminds me that we need to call our lovely, faith-filled blueberry lady to see if her grape harvest is nearly ripe. Maybe she'll let us pick from the "thank-offering row", which is a different row every year and yet yields more than any of the other rows.

Though busy, the days are filled with delights:

• The best husband ever



• Excellent teachers



• Friends new and old



• A new niece



• Tasty food



• Amish country and farms



• Piano lessons full of new insights into the physicality as well as musicality of being a pianist



• A second year of Analytical Techniques, just for fun



• New insights in the Bible after I asked God to help me understand



• Cheerful, sturdy clothing



• Our crockpot



• Prayer time alone and with my husband



• Feeling healthy and energetic



• Getting more exercise



• Starting the second year of the master's program instead of the first, and having many familiar things in life where last year at this time almost everything was unfamiliar

May God grant each of you, dear readers, the sweetest of His blessings this week.

Five Memories

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Thinking back over the school year, sorting through goals, piling themes around in my mind, weaving a few related ones together, a conversation with my piano teacher surfaces more than once, perhaps in more mental stacks than she imagined it would.

One stack, the obvious one, is what I call the "How in the world am I going to do this graduate school thing, recital and all, for another year?" pile. The other, the one even closer to my heart of hearts, is what I call the "How in the world am I going to get this whole book of the Bible stay in my mind for a lifetime?" pile. And somehow, her words ring true not just for school, but also for life.

When it comes to the music (the hour of it I've begun to learn in preparation for my graduate recital), I struggle to stay focused, play the details I know are there without getting distracted by other thoughts.

When it comes to the words (the Revelation, and now parts of Daniel, that I've quietly been tucking away inside myself for several years now), I struggle to review enough, keep them fresh, feel like they're ingrained to the point that I could honestly look you in the eye and tell you I've memorized a book of the Bible and be able to recite all its sentences and paragraphs to you at the drop of a hat.

How do I make a memory? One that really stays? One that I can communicate effectively and accurately to others around me when I need to or want to?

She gives me words, ideas about making memories. I write them down, feeling that I might otherwise forget them.

There are five kinds, she says. Five memories to build.

Most of the time, unless we force ourselves to exercise more of them, we might build two or three memories at most. She's right, I decide, because the more I think about what she says, I believe I use only two, and I figure out how those two without the others set me up for some of the fumbles I make in the recital hall.

These are they:

1. Visual: what the music looks like in the score (on the page). Or, in memorizing Scripture, this would be what the words look like in my Bible.


2. Visual: what the notes look like on the keyboard as I play them. Or, in memorizing Scripture, this might be the mental picture of what the words are describing.


3. Aural: what the music sounds like. Or, what the words sound like aloud.


4. Muscular: what the music feels like in my hands as I play it. Or, what the words feel like in my mouth as I speak them. (I know that might seem strange, but if you've ever sung formally, like in a choir, you generally begin to recognize not just how something sounds when it sounds good, but how it feels in your mouth and vocal chords when you sing it.)


5. Theoretical: how the music (individual notes, chords, phrases, etc.) functions as it moves from one section to the next. Or, how the words string together to form phrases, sentences, verses, paragraphs, chapters, books...

Point being this: whether I'm working toward playing a recital or putting memory verses away for the long term, have I gone through the passage thinking specifically about sound? Is my visual memory built only on what the notes look like as my hands play them, or could I also "see" what they look like on the page and play them from memory as if I'm actually reading them from the score?

If I could turn one piano piece, or one verse of the Bible, into five different memories in my mind, wouldn't I increase my chances of reproducing it accurately? Even if I'm tired? Even if something in the moment distracts me?

It would cost me, to be sure--time, energy, mental exploration. But somehow it strikes me that the potential payoff would be well worth the effort.

Mowing the Lawn

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The husband's research was long....and really high quality....and really time-consuming. And our poor grass got long, too....because wife didn't manage to make room in her schedule for that and didn't try very hard to make room, even though the rain and the sun gave the grass all the attention it could desire in two weeks' time.

I've mown plenty of lawn in my time, and somehow, having a husband these days, I basked in the knowing that he would do the chore as soon as all the citations were edited properly.

And now that he's tending the lawn, rejoicing in the research well done, the paper well written, he's reveling in the fresh air.

Since we have a small lawn, we opted for the small mower without motor, which means he hears the birds singing and the neighborhood children playing while he works. Relationships get caught up on, too--he manages phone calls to Grandma, Mom, Dad, leaving message for Twin. And receives calls from soon-to-be-missionary we get to visit with this weekend. (Yay!)

How he ever manages to call all those people in such a short time is beyond me--I would be talking for hours with each one. But his cup and theirs get filled, and I enjoy a quiet moment of writing before our moments together, walking by our river.

A Sign of Success

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Your husband has been outside editing his {30+ pages of} research paper and soaking up the sun while he works. You have been inside cooking and cleaning, preparing the home for Sabbath.


You know you're doing well with all your little jobs when he comes in and says, "I don't know how you can focus on anything else when that bread smells so good in here!"