I'd better not go to bed without making some kind of record of our experience in church today, and if I do it via email, you can share it with me. Here's a whole bunch of background before I get to today:
About four weeks ago, our bishop took me aside after sacrament meeting and told me he was thinking of calling (read "about to call") Tara to be the ward organist, and asked if I would support that call. I said, "Well, Bishop, you know I'll support any move you want to make, but I can tell you that will be challenging for her and for us." First of all, Tara is not an organist. She does play the piano, but that's not the same thing, and she and I both know it. But we also both knew skill would come over time (and by the way, don't misunderstand me - she's playing really well).
My main concern was our family situation. We're at a really difficult stage with our kids when it comes to behavior in sacrament meeting, and we've had more bad weeks than good lately. It's all we can do to keep from completely losing it, and that's with both of us working as a team all meeting long. One of us usually has to miss a large portion of sacrament meeting, taking one of the kids out into the hall. Now we would be adding another 30 minutes to that struggle, since Tara would need to be there early to practice and to play prelude, and I should also be there early (but rarely am) to help make sure the teachers have sacrament preparation covered. And, of course, once the meeting starts, now we would not have the full parenting team - worse, we would have the added distraction of Mommy being up on the stand and rambunctious kids not being allowed to be up there with her. You know what I mean: "Mommy! Mommy! I want Mommy! Let me go!" All this is just a portion of what flashed through my mind as I said, "...that will be challenging for us." But I also said, "You go ahead and talk to Tara, and I will support whatever you decide." And I meant it sincerely.
And, while I half expected him to change his mind once he really saw the full scope of the situation, I also truly believe that a calling is meant to stretch us and cause us to exercise our faith. Tara accepted the calling, and we braced ourselves for the inevitable.
There have been four awkward weeks since that conversation. The bishop has been unable to connect with the previous organist to release her, but he knew she would not be there to play and so asked Tara to fill in in the mean time. And, with other ward members not knowing that Tara is to be the organist, they haven't been giving her the hymn numbers so she knows what to practice, and we've had to hound the bishop to get that info, which he's not used to providing, because it's a calling delegated to someone else (round and round we go).
In many other ways we feel like we're struggling, but
our list of stresses and anxieties would probably match that of anyone
else. We have a gazillion home repairs to perform, cars to fix, stresses
at work, doctor's bills, aches and pains, no money for it all, and we
especially worry for our sisters on both sides of the family right about
now. This is life, right? You take it as it comes, and try to deal with
it one thing at a time. But when you're asked right up front if you
would please change part of your routine and add a new challenge to your
life, you (perhaps subconsciously?) do a quick inventory and maybe
think, "Really? Right now?"
Today Tara and Paige went the 30 min. early, and I followed not far behind with the 4 boys. We walked because a) it was a beautiful day for it and b) the Sequoia needs a head gasket job and the van (which I still haven't sold) is out of gas until our next paycheck.
(*PLEASE* don't think I'm trying to get sympathy or pity by listing all these whiny details - I'm trying to set the stage for the mindset I was in going into sacrament meeting today. Not the ideal sacrament meeting mindset, I might add. I need to better prepare myself mentally/emotionally. Okay...)
We walked in just in time to hear the tail end of Tara's prelude and to find our seat on the bench space she had saved for us. We were on the side so I would only have one exit to block. Paige was making her social rounds, greeting all the grandparents in the ward. I got the boys situated, and I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Brother Blumer, my wife wanted me to invite you guys to sit with us so we can help you with your kids if you need it." Wow! Of course, yes please, I'll be right over! Humility dose #1. This was the same family that babysat Levi, Cody and Jonas while I went to watch Tara, Paige and Ashby in the UVMCO concert in Salt Lake - a very late night of babysitting for them.
A few moments into the opening song, there was a sudden outburst of little boy screams as Cody and Levi got in a fist-fight over who-knows-what. Cody is the easier of the two to lift, so I grabbed him and headed for the exit, while this couple and their teenage kids dealt with Levi. I abandoned Jonas there in his car seat, and I didn't even think of what was happening with Ashby and Paige (they're relatively low-maintenance anyway). As quickly as I was out of my seat with Cody, the man sitting right in front of me was out of his seat and sitting next to the kids I had just abandoned. Humility dose #2.
Cody calmed down pretty quickly, and we returned to our seats, but it wasn't long before Jonas, who usually sleeps through most of church, was crying and I had to turn my attention to him. I was holding/rocking/bouncing him to keep him calm at the very moment when the bishop called for a sustaining vote for Tara as the new ward organist. That's why my hand didn't go up. I think he understood that ;-).
At this point, I sort of lose track of the exact chronology of events. I know Ashby helped me by moving the car seat out of the aisle just in time for the deacons to not trip over it as they passed the sacrament. I know at some point another brother snagged Cody as he bolted down the aisle and helped calm him down until I could get there (joining the helpful family put us in a center pew instead of the side, so there were several times when the kid who needed the most attention was on the opposite side of the room from me). The first brother, the husband of the family we were sitting with, actually left the building with Cody at one point, and I probably could have let that play out just fine, except that I had already gone after them and Cody had seen me coming. So he and I both helped Cody decide to go back into the meeting. Then there's the sister sitting behind me who picked up the crying Jonas and rocked him, even standing at the back of the room with him for a few minutes, while I ... I don't know ... I was probably retrieving Cody from running onto the stand or something. Wait - where's Levi? Oh, he's sitting with that nice grandma/grandpa couple that lives kitty-corner across the intersection from us. And yes, Tara sat with us as much as she could (that's how she and I ended up on opposite ends of the long pew, with this other family and our kids interspersed between us).
At one point I took a quick count, and there had been six families directly involved in helping us with our kids. And with each act of kindness and patience, I was almost moved to tears. That's right. It may have looked like a circus act, with me jumping up every 5 seconds to chase after someone or to take back a misbehaving kid from someone, but I was actually feeling dose after dose of humility and evidence of Heavenly Father's love for us, as administered by others of His children. I wanted to take each of those individuals and families and hug them and thank them. And then I also realized there were dozens of other people around us helping by not only not being annoyed, but by smiling and sending positive vibes and empathic/sympathetic looks our way. I even felt helped by those who seemed completely oblivious to us because they were focused on the speakers or hymns or whatever was going on in the meeting. One elderly lady went out of her way to tell me after sacrament meeting that I have "darling children." It wasn't even with any "it's-a-good-thing-they're-
This is a stark contrast to the time a few years ago when we had just Paige, Ashby and Levi. We sat one Sunday
behind an elderly couple who was passing notes to each other the whole
time. The kids were actually doing pretty well that day, but they were
still a baby, a preschooler and a kindergartner - so you would hear them
every now and then. Well, we inadvertently caught sight of the note
conversation this couple was having, and it turned out they were writing
about us! "People should just keep their kids at home! Don't come to
church until your kids are old enough," etc. Luckily we were able to
laugh it off as ridiculously myopic, but it didn't do anything for our
confidence in parenting. I'm so glad this turns out to be the exception
and not the rule.
It's fitting that I had this experience in the same meeting
where Tara was sustained. I could see that she clearly is being
sustained. The congregation raised their hands, and they were
immediately put to the test. And it wasn't all chaos and juggling. There
were actually a couple of moments when I got to sit still and listen to
the speaker. I'm not sure how, but at one point I sat down, and I
looked around, and each of my kids was with some other loving
individual. I turned around to take Jonas from the sister behind me, but
she smiled and said, "We're fine." So I sat and listened. And what I
heard was an expression of Heavenly Father's love for me and for all of
His children in His family - it did feel like family. Get this: After the meeting, the brother who had initially offered the help of his family came up to me and, in an apologetic tone, said, "I don't know if we helped or made it worse for you." I assured him I was thankful for his help. I wonder how often we forgo helping someone because we doubt our own usefulness or don't want to intrude. I wonder how many of the others who helped us today felt apologetic about it. I didn't really get to talk to any of them about it, but they each did something to strengthen my faith today.
Oh, and here's the icing on the cake. This afternoon Tara got the following email:
"Tara, I had to drop you a note. You so reminded me of me, 40 years ago. I had 5 children under 10 and I played the organ at church also.
I
want you to know that it gets better and better. Time goes by so fast
and soon they are all grown up and gone and the 2 of you go to church by
yourself.
Nobody cares if the kids cry or make a fuss.
Enjoy playing the organ for your own sake. Don't even think about not
doing it.
Your kids are beautiful and smart. Enjoy them and have a great day."
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