music – Thoughts from My Hammock

It had been a rough week all around. Things had fallen apart at the office, and I was working late every night. Not terribly late, but late enough to miss cooking for my family. I had not been to the gym all week. And don’t even ask about the state of my house. But one particular morning, as I ate a lonely granola bar and gulped my coffee, I decided that I needed to carve out some time and take care of things. I considered shopping for a new blender after work. (See “Tuesday Haiku.”) Maybe there would be time to make spaghetti for dinner, too. The gym could wait one more day. I could only hope there were no surprises at the office that would upset my plans to catch up at home.

When Damon came down to breakfast, he mentioned the Choral Spectacular scheduled for that evening. I was finally going to get to hear his choral ensemble perform at school. What??? I had no idea what he was talking about. This had not been on my radar at all. I explained this to him and apologized for not being able to guarantee being there. He said he understood, but the disappointment showed on his face, however briefly, before he poured his cereal.

That afternoon, the pile of files was somewhat under control. I began to have hope that I could make it to the concert after all. I called Damon to confirm the time of the event. Was it 6:30? Or did it start at 7? He said he was sure it was 6:30 since the choir was asked to arrive at the school at 6:15. Got it. I’ll be there.

Of course, as usually happens, last-minute matters arose, so I left work a few minutes later than I had planned. I felt rushed to make it allll the way out to Damon’s school on the other end of town. I raced against time and slow-moving drivers, willing the clock to slow down for me, my own personal miracle. I normally don’t rush to anything, figuring nothing is worth risking an accident for. But this was different: my boy wanted me there, and it was important that he see my face in the audience before the performance began. I had to be on time, a little early even.

I finally made it to the school, found a parking place at the end of the lot, and ran into the school. I located the auditorium and entered quietly. Good! I was on time. I looked around and discovered that I was early. I whispered to another parent at the door to confirm the time of the concert — 7:00 after all. Deep breath. Find a seat. Relax. I pulled out my phone, silenced it, and played some Words With Friends.

While I enjoyed this quiet time, I glanced up at the stage to see a small semi-circle of chairs and music stands, indicating that the evening would start with an orchestral performance. I would get to see a little more from the music department than planned. How nice! As the house lights dimmed, I wondered if the group of students seated at the very back of the auditorium would have to bring in their own risers before singing, since there weren’t any on stage.

The music director introduced a string quintet, explaining that these talented high schoolers were going to entertain us with college-level music. She was right. They tackled Shostacovich and Dvorak with relative ease. As they played, I felt myself relax. I was lost in the music for a blissful thirty minutes.

At the break, I heard the students behind me begin to move. Oh, good! The choir! But I saw they were holding instruments. It wasn’t the choir, but the orchestra, making their way to the stage. I looked around the auditorium and didn’t see any other students waiting to perform, and I began to realize I had the wrong room. I hurried from my seat, up the aisle, and out the door where I found a stack of programs on a music stand. (How did I miss those the first time?) “An Orchestral Evening” it announced, complete with a list of students, teachers and composers being featured in the program. No choir. No Damon.

I headed toward the music classrooms, hoping to hear a choir singing and be able to catch at least part of the program. But the halls were silent except for the whistling of a janitor. After I checked the parking lot for Damon’s truck and realized that he had at least made it to the school safely, I decided to head home. I felt like a failure. How could I get it so wrong?

It turned out that I had missed an important piece of information. The Choral Spectacular was being hosted by another school in the county. Damon drove to his school and rode the bus to the concert site.

I think about Proverbs 31 a lot, especially during busy times. The “excellent wife” rises early, feeds her family, plans her day, has the trust of her husband and the blessing of her children. She has fashion sense, business sense and a green thumb. She is loving and charitable. She has an inner beauty that is beyond outward charm. She is the ideal. And she seems impossible to be. But when I really read the passage, I see something missing that I had always thought was there: the word perfect. She isn’t perfect. She is just well-rounded, with people to care for and plenty to do. She is worthy of admiration simply because of all she is capable of doing, whether or not she gets it right every time.

I am not Super Mom. But I don’t have to be. So I might as well relax a little bit, and not be so hard on myself.

A few weeks later, I’m in the same auditorium at Damon’s school, seated comfortably, right on time. Damon sees me and smiles before giving full attention to his choir director. As the lush harmonies of “Ubi Caritas” fill the room, as its words of God’s love and peace washed over me, I finally understand what I probably needed to learn years ago. Our families do not expect us to be perfect; they appreciate the many things we try. And sometimes, we do manage to get it right.

Tag: music

Coming Home (III)

Overcome

I’m Not Super Mom