Fact of the matter is....you adapt or you die. Nothing like getting down to the nitty-gritty right of the gate, is there? It in an undeniable truth. Things in the natural world illustrate this truth. Science, technology, music, business...you adapt or you become obsolete. Mr. Snark's Great Granddaddy was firm in his belief that folks often died, soon after their retirements, because they sat down. Not so much physically as mentally...they stopped engaging in the world around him. He lived to be right around 95 years old and up until he was about 92, he was still cutting hair at the barber shop. He had to give that up (imagine), but he kept on with life...adapting...looking for things to challenge his mind. The process of adaptation is not always comfortable or convenient. Awkward. Inconvenient. Uncomfortable. Painful. Yes, yes, yes and AMEN!! And thus was my first practice with the church hand bell choir!
I am, by no means, what I would call an accomplished musician. I had maybe two years of piano lessons, which makes me anything BUT a concert pianist. Yes, I sang in choir all through Jr. and Sr. high and even won a couple of medals. I've been part of the choirs at just about every church Mr. Snark and I have attended. As long as the notes stay between B below middle C and the F at the top of the staff, I'm good. Treble clef, people. I can read them, that is. I'm an Alto and while some of my more talented sisters have a very wide range, mine is a little more narrow. I even played hand bells for one year at the B'ham church...bells that were snugly in my comfort zone. Can you smell the impeding disaster? Guess what bells were needed...bass clef bells...as in below the lines and spaces of the staff!!!!!
(Some of you are laughing because this is greasy kids stuff to you. Scoff, if you must, but when you burn the pan up, JUST trying to boil water, think of me...and my wine braised sausages with fresh bruschetta and crostini!!) New church, fresh start...it's okay to try something different. It's good to step outside of the usual. Well, that's what I told myself...too bad I didn't listen to myself! I did try and I guess that's what matters. Maybe it doesn't so much matter that I actually faked a couple of sneezes to hide the tears of frustration that started to fill my eyes. Maybe it doesn't so much matter that I LITERALLY had to leave the room, with shameful tears streaking down my face, overwhelmed with frustration. Not because of anything that any of the other ringers said or did....they were all so kind and patient and seemed genuinely pleased to have me join them. Nope...my own inner critic was harsher and less forgiving than anything that anyone in that room could have been.
I'd no sooner found a quiet place to collect myself (read that as "the nearest ladies' restroom"), when one of the other ringers showed up. She was so sweet and encouraging. She's known around town for her musical abilities, but confessed that she still has trouble with counting the rhythms. I'm not terribly adept at that, either. After awhile, it becomes more like math and I believe we've discussed my feeble math abilities...and the feeble attitude that goes with it. Playing the hand bells has forced her to count and has made her a better musician. She also said that they'd been working on this music for two months and that I had to give myself a little bit of time. Wasn't that precious of her? I thought it was. I am happy to report that I returned for the remaining ten minutes of practice (that, by the way, ground to a screeching halt when I left the room...geeeeezzzzeeee!).
Isn't it funny what God will use to shape you? I guess I'm going to be bell shaped, for a time. Papa Wood used to call me a "ding-dong." Works for me.
I am, by no means, what I would call an accomplished musician. I had maybe two years of piano lessons, which makes me anything BUT a concert pianist. Yes, I sang in choir all through Jr. and Sr. high and even won a couple of medals. I've been part of the choirs at just about every church Mr. Snark and I have attended. As long as the notes stay between B below middle C and the F at the top of the staff, I'm good. Treble clef, people. I can read them, that is. I'm an Alto and while some of my more talented sisters have a very wide range, mine is a little more narrow. I even played hand bells for one year at the B'ham church...bells that were snugly in my comfort zone. Can you smell the impeding disaster? Guess what bells were needed...bass clef bells...as in below the lines and spaces of the staff!!!!!
(Some of you are laughing because this is greasy kids stuff to you. Scoff, if you must, but when you burn the pan up, JUST trying to boil water, think of me...and my wine braised sausages with fresh bruschetta and crostini!!) New church, fresh start...it's okay to try something different. It's good to step outside of the usual. Well, that's what I told myself...too bad I didn't listen to myself! I did try and I guess that's what matters. Maybe it doesn't so much matter that I actually faked a couple of sneezes to hide the tears of frustration that started to fill my eyes. Maybe it doesn't so much matter that I LITERALLY had to leave the room, with shameful tears streaking down my face, overwhelmed with frustration. Not because of anything that any of the other ringers said or did....they were all so kind and patient and seemed genuinely pleased to have me join them. Nope...my own inner critic was harsher and less forgiving than anything that anyone in that room could have been.
I'd no sooner found a quiet place to collect myself (read that as "the nearest ladies' restroom"), when one of the other ringers showed up. She was so sweet and encouraging. She's known around town for her musical abilities, but confessed that she still has trouble with counting the rhythms. I'm not terribly adept at that, either. After awhile, it becomes more like math and I believe we've discussed my feeble math abilities...and the feeble attitude that goes with it. Playing the hand bells has forced her to count and has made her a better musician. She also said that they'd been working on this music for two months and that I had to give myself a little bit of time. Wasn't that precious of her? I thought it was. I am happy to report that I returned for the remaining ten minutes of practice (that, by the way, ground to a screeching halt when I left the room...geeeeezzzzeeee!).
Isn't it funny what God will use to shape you? I guess I'm going to be bell shaped, for a time. Papa Wood used to call me a "ding-dong." Works for me.
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