The Haasienda on Shroyer…

When we enter a room or see an object for the first time, our minds register its color before any other detail. The colors our eyes can perceive are like words that form a subtle language of mood, energy, and insight. Color can exert a gentle effect on the mind and the body, influencing our dispositions and our physical health. Color has the ability to trigger our emotions, affect the way we think and act, and influence our attitudes. You unconsciously respond to the color of the walls in your home, your car, your clothing, and the food you eat based on your body’s natural reactions to certain colors and the psychological associations you have formed around them. The consequences of the decision to paint a room or wear a specific article of clothing therefore goes beyond aesthetics.

The colors you encounter throughout your day can make you feel happy or sad, invigorate you or drain your vitality, and even affect your work habits. Throughout history, cultures spread over many different parts of the globe have attributed varying meanings to different colors. In China, blue is associated with immortality, while people in the Middle East view blue as a color of protection. There is also evidence that human beings respond to color in a very visceral way. Red excites us and inflames our passions. Too much red, however, can make us feel overstimulated and irritated. Pink tends to make people feel loved and protected but also can cause feelings of lethargy. Yellow represents joy or optimism and can energize you and help you think more clearly. Bright orange reduces depression and sadness. Blue and green are known to inspire peaceful feelings, and people are often able to concentrate better and work in rooms painted in soft blues and greens. The darker tones of! both colors can make you feel serious and introspective.

There are ways to integrate color into your life that go beyond picking the hues of your décor and your wardrobe. You can meditate with color by concentrating on the colors that make you feel peaceful or using a progression of colors to symbolize a descent into a relaxed state. Color breathing involves visualizing certain colors as you in inhale and exhale. Choose to surround yourself with the colors that you are attracted to and make you feel good, and you can create an environment that makes you feel nurtured, peaceful, and uplifted.

This past weekend, the Ball State University Singers offered the most moving encore, a tender melody set to a Charles Dickens poem.

To hear the University Singers – click on or go to:
http://www.dogpile.com/info.dogpl/clickit/search?r_aid=6C27D43E89A24E4BA2995DB0931C98F0&r_eop=1&r_sacop=3&r_spf=0&r_cop=main-title&r_snpp=3&r_spp=0&qqn=FJh6LFV.&r_coid=372372&rawto=http://web.bsu.edu/jcarter2/things%20that%20never%20die.WAV

Things That Never Die
The pure, the bright, the beautiful
that stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The streams of love and truth,
The longing after something lost,
The spirit’s longing cry,
The striving after better hopes–
These things can never die.

The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need;
A kindly word in grief’s dark hour
That proves a friend indeed;
The plea for mercy softly breathed,
When justice threatens high,
The sorrow of a contrite heart–
These things shall never die.

Let nothing pass, for every hand
Must find some work to do,
Lose not a chance to waken love–
Be firm and just and true.
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high,
And angel voices say to thee–
“These things shall never die.”

~ Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Man – I am finally feel as though I am catching up but the two loads of laundry in my bedroom tell me otherwise.

Last week was a true baptism into single-parenting and fatherhood as I dealth with being sick and Jose’s traumatic few days of broken collar bones and breaking teeth. There was a ton of data research at the Muse Machine and I felt as though all I did was type in numbers. I am still typing in numbers.

This weekend is Vandalia Butler High School’s production of Beauty & The Beast and my student, Nathaniel Stevens, has the lead of the Beast. I went to see him rehearse Monday and Tuesday evenings and he is doing a superb job – especially for his first round as a major lead. I am going to run up there again tomorrow to see it one last time before opening night, which is Friday. I will take Matthew on Friday so he can see his Sunday school classmate, and then Saturday, Jose will attend with me since Matthew will be singing with the Fairmont HS music department as they christen the new performing arts facility.

Next week Jose has a choral concert, and hopefully, we will be heading out of here to Washington, DC for Spring break. I am so far behind on the planning that I am beginning to get nervous – but it always comes together.

Our desires act as fuel, propelling us toward new horizons. Without something to strive for, we stagnate and become stuck in ruts of our own making because we are unsure of what to do next. Goals are the dreams that we are willing to work for. When we set goals, we take responsibility for our lives and choose to wholeheartedly devote ourselves to our aspirations. Even if we only take the smallest steps toward achieving our ambitions, it is vital that we actively pursue our goals rather than just daydreaming about them. Having goals makes us feel good because it adds a sense of purpose and direction to our lives.

When you endeavor to achieve clear and quantifiable goals, your choices and actions take on new significance. Consciously creating your goals can help ensure that the success you seek is attainable and serves you. Your plan must be conceivable, tangible, and measurable. If you cannot visualize your goal in great detail or believe that you can realize them, you may find it difficult to commit to your goals and take the necessary steps to achieve them. Make sure that your goals have the potential to be emotionally satisfying. You may even want to write them down. Putting your goals into words can keep your intention fresh in your mind and remind you of your purpose. As you make progress toward realizing your goals, give yourself a reward each time you take a step forward so that you have the incentive to keep going. If you find yourself stuck in a rut, examine ways in which you can revise your strategy so that your plan can work.

In creating goals, you create your future by outlining your destiny. When you choose your goals using your head and heart, you take the first step in manifesting what you want. You grant your own wishes every time you achieve another goal.

We all experience periods where we feel separated from the loving ebb and flow of the universe. These times of feeling disconnected from the source may occur for many reasons, but self-sabotage is the most common cause for us choosing to cut ourselves off from the flow of the universe. We purposefully, though often unconsciously, cut ourselves off from this flow and from the embrace of humanity so we can avoid dealing with painful issues, shun the necessary steps for growth, or prevent the success that we are afraid of achieving from ever happening. When you choose to disconnect from the source, you block the flow of the universe’s energy from passing through you. You become like a sleepwalker who is not fully awake to life, and your hopes, plans, and dreams begin to appear as distant blurs on a faraway horizon. Universal support has never left you, but if you can remember that you became disconnected from source by choice, you can choose to reconnect.

Reconnecting with the universe grounds you and is as easy as you making a concerted effort to become interested in the activities you love or responding to what nurtures or stimulates you. You may also want to make a list of the activities and kinds of experiences that touch your soul. Try to pinpoint the times when you have felt fully engaged and aware and ask yourself what you were doing. But one of the easiest ways to reconnect is simply by stating the intention of doing so.

When you disconnect from the universe, your sense of purpose, creativity, and ability to be innovative are not as easy to access. You may also experience a deep and empty sense of longing or feel devoid of ideas or unworthy of love. It’s important, however, to recognize that being disconnected from the universe is never a permanent state, and it can be reversed any time you decide that you are ready to reconnect. When you are connected to the universe, all aspects of your being will feel alive as the flow of the universe pours through your being and into your life.

As we walk through the world, the people we encounter appear so different from one another. We see babies, old men, pregnant women, and teenaged boys. We know couples on the verge of marriage and lonely widows. We interact with toddlers and the terminally ill. As different as each person seems, they are all living the human experience. They are just at different places in the cycle that begins with birth and ends with death. Every phase of the cycle of life has its gifts and its challenges. Each stage is temporary and ultimately gives way to a new phase. This ephemeral quality makes each phase precious, because it will never last.

One of the wonderful qualities possessed by babies and young children is that they are unaware that a cycle of life even exists. They simply are present to wherever they happen to be right now, and they don’t give much thought to the past or future. Being around them reminds us of the joy that comes from living fully in the moment. On the opposite end of life’s cycle are our elderly role models. They are a reminder that each phase of life should be treasured. Time does pass, and we all change and grow older.

Being aware of the cycle of life and our place in it makes us wiser. As we develop a true appreciation for the phase we are in, we can savor it more. A new mother going through a difficult time with her infant can more easily embrace her challenges because she knows that her child will grow up, and she will long for this time again. Difficult and challenging periods are inevitable, but – like everything that is a part of the cycle of life – they are temporary. When we are fully engaged with life, we get to savor and grow from each phase, and we are ready for the next one when it arrives. Fully embracing wherever you are in the cycle of life is the very essence to happiness.

Poor Jose!

The third day of track, Jose was running and fell. His collar bone seemed to be in a great deal of pain and the doctor confirmed (with X-rays) that his collar bone was broken. They showed me how to get him into his clavicle brace – which I have to assist with in the mornings.

The following Thursday, he was at the dentist and his tooth broke in half during the drilling. Dr. Bob glued, screwed and capped it – but three hours of discomfort for Jose.

Of course, he is the type of individual whose glass is “half full” and he has been a cheerful little soldier throughout all this.

Naturally, all this happens when I am down with walking pneumonia – sitting in waiting rooms of ER’s and dentist for a combined eleven hours. Matt asked one evening, “Can I go ahead and go to the ER with you guys tonight so I can at least see you?”

Fortunately it was our one night NOT spent in a waiting room.

Last Wednesday evening was the Fairmont Entertainment Company (FEC) Winter Showcase. The showchoir did a medley from the musical, Rent, but the spotlight was on the vocal jazz ensembles, especially The Eleventh Hour which cleaned up in the state competition last month.

Please see FEC concert photos at:
href=”http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dljh_dayton/album?.dir=71f8&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//photos.yahoo.com/ph//my_photos”>http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dljh_dayton/album?.dir=71f8&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//photos.yahoo.com/ph//my_photos

Tonight was the Kettering Middle/High School choral concert. The 7th and 8th grade choirs from Ketteing Middle School and Van Buren Middle School each performed three songs, and then the high school Treble and Concert Choirs, and the Symphonic Chorale each performed their upcoming contest pieces.

Jose was slightly nervous as I tied his tie, but I kept reassuring him there was no need to be nervous. One of my students offered some encouragement. Jose was fine! He actually smiled this time and opened his mouth more. Matthew, as always, was engaging as he sang.

I am proud of both boys and their performance skills. Matthew is so natural and seemed quite experienced. Jose, once he understands how talented he is – especially with movement – will be dynamite. I have contacted Chris Ott, the superb vocal percussionist for Eleventh Hour. Chris is also a tremendous dancer and trombonist – really neat kid!

The Kettering Middle School just did not seem to have it together tonight. Vocally, they were OK, but behaviorally, especially on stage, they were embarassing. Several of the Black girls just could not care less about the concert and I wanted, so much, to drag them off stage. I would be content with just the Van Buren choirs – who are under the direction of Brody. Brody’s students behave like professionals, and it was so apparent tonight when his middle school students were on stage. Hands down – Brody’s middle school choirs have their acts together.

To see more photos of the choral concerts, please visit these two sites:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dljh_dayton/album?.dir=/da28
and
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dljh_dayton/album?.dir=71f8&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dljh_dayton/my_photos

Wowee! What a fantastic weekend. Tiring, but fantastic!

The entire week was filled with meetings, extra teaching and very little time to breathe.

Friday
I worked a little later at The Muse Machine until Jeff Carter arrived. Jeff was hired to be one of the ajudicators for the Kettering Fairmont High School Show Choir Invitational and he arrived on Friday afternoon. He received a brief tour of the Muse Machine office suite, and then we took a quick trip to Woodland Cemetery to see the Wright Family graves, and past Hawthorne Hill, the home of Orville Wright. Since the boys had to be at the high school for the invitational set-up at 5:00PM, Jeff and I took the boys to Panera Bread to eat, and then I gave Jeff a tour of the new performing arts facilities. We drove north to Monte & Chris’, and then went to the neatest restaurant. It was great. Afterwards we spent some time with Monte & Chris at their home, and then I showed Jeff to his hotel in Miamisburg. I returned home to work on the MC script for the show choir invitational and finished it at 1:30AM. At 4:00AM, I was wide awake and could not get back to sleep.

Saturday
We were up before 6:00AM – the boys headed over to the high school at 7:00AM. I got there at 8:00AM and met with the judges. I was dressed in my new black suit with a deep royal blue shirt, and my new yellow power tie with blue rectangles. I felt like the male version of Cinderella at the ball! Everyone kept telling me how handsome I looked. I didn’t want to take it off. I was the MC for the entire day – from 9:00AM until 6:00PM – on my feet. I ate lunch and supper with the judges and had some fun discussions. I sat with Jeff for the evening competition. After the competition, with Beavercreek High School as the winner (my former student’s choir came in second), the students cleaned the host rooms and stage and we left around 12:15AM. I drove a student home and returned to arguing sons. I know they were tired, but they had allowed little infractions move directly into full fledged bickering. So, I brought them to my study and allowed them to solve it. I worked on Email, changed into my bed clothes and finally, at 1:00AM, Jose offered the first hand shake of truce. I went to bed at 2:00AM.

Wow! When I look back on the past week or so, I am breathless – and the coming week is just as bad.

To recap:

Most of February 6th through the 11th, I spent most of my extra time preparing the sermon I gave on President Lincoln’s spirituality on February 12th.

Friday, February 10
My friends, Brody (Fairmont choral director) and Mark Tangeman (former choral booster parent) and I went to Cadillac Jack’s for an “all-you-can-eat-fish-dinner” which was excellent. Afterwards, we headed back to Brody’s for pipes and cigars (I only smoke my pipe) and drinks. Brody had written to a pipe tobacco company asking for their opinion on samples and they sent him a huge bag of various pipe tobaccos. So, we each tried 4 or 5 different bags, and took home one or two – and Brody still had about 25 bags remaining.

Saturday, February 11
I spent some extra time on the sermon, and called my friend, Jeff Carter, to hear his opinion on a few items. He was a tremendous help by refocusing my question – “was Lincoln a Christian?” By the time Jeff finished, the question was, “was Lincoln Christian?” Bingo! That evening I hurried to Monte & Chris Stevens’ to take photos of Nathaniel, his date and their friends as they prepared to go to the “turnabout dance.” Monte, Chris and I then joined 30 some others at the Japanese Sake restaurant for a delicious meal. Afterwards, we drove back to the Stevens’ for mint chocolate chip ice cream and conversation until 11:00PM. Ugh! I had intended to leave at 9:00PM, but they kept regaling me with stories which had me rolling. Still, I was a poor guest by overstaying my welcome. I have learned there are just some people in this world you just enjoy so much that the time literally, and sadly, flies by quickly.

Sunday, February 12
I had gone to bed at 2:30AM and was up at 5:45AM to head over to Our Savior Lutheran Church to take photos of the Dayton Mission Trip as they prepared to head to Slidell, Louisiana, where they would assist with the Katrina clean-up. Even at 6:30AM, Monte and I were in rare form. While they were in Louisiana, they did get to enjoy some of the preliminary Mardes Gras celebrations.

For photos of the mission trip, please visit:
http://www.dcmt2006.blogspot.com/

As usual, the ride to church was coupled with my Sunday morning phone conversation with Mother. The sermon seemed to go well, and many were lined up following the service to thank me. Chris, Adam, my sons and I went to Wendy’s for lunch, and Chris and I – as usual – spent nearly two hours chatting away about anything and everything as the boys patiently amused themselves. Afterwards the boys and I ran errands, finally settling at home around 7:00PM. I got in a kick to clean and shampooed all the rugs and carpets, and tidied up a little more.

Well, this morning I gave my Lincoln sermon, and was somewhat pleased with its reception.

Here is the sermon:

The Spirituality of Abraham Lincoln

“We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth, and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these things were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.”

One hundred and forty-two years ago today, Abraham Lincoln wrote these words. So often, President Lincoln is referred to as our most “Christian president.” Although few today would equate Lincoln with Christ so explicitly, our casual ways of talking about the martyred president embody something of an old idea.

Consider – if you would – these images of Lincoln:
v the common man of uncommon wisdom,
v the man who saved a country and freed the slaves,
v the man of sorrows who was acquainted with grief,
v the man who could forgive a hostile, warring nation,
v the man who showed great compassion and love for all humanity
v the teller of simple stories dense with meaning.

The day after Abraham Lincoln’s death was Easter Sunday and it took almost no time at all for the pious and patriotic people to transform Lincoln into the American Christ. American preachers forgot their prepared Easter sermons and rhapsodized about the martyred president. Some compared him with Moses leading his oppressed people to freedom. But most likened him to Christ – the savior of the nation.

A couple of years ago I was driving through the square in Hodgenville, Kentucky, a little community near the site of Lincoln’s birthplace, and I noticed that this town had draped his statue with holly, ivy and Christmas greenery. Without thinking a thing of it, the good people of Hodgenville had merged one humble but redeeming birth into another.

For over a century now, there have been tons of comparisons between Lincoln and Christ:
· Both were born in humble origins
· Both of their fathers were carpenters
· Both worked as laborers before beginning their careers
· Both loved all walks of life – especially children
· Both had many enemies who wished them harm
· Both were great story tellers
· Both were considered radical
· Both men were capable of great love for mankind
· Christ entered Jerusalem a few days before his death to shouts of “Hosanna” and “Savior” and “Messiah.”
· Lincoln entered Richmond, Virginia a few days before his death, also to shouts of “Hosanna” and “Savior” and “Messiah.”
· Both men looked after their mothers until the day of their assassinations
· Christ and Lincoln were both executed on Good Friday
· Christ, moments away from death, asked that his enemies be forgiven with the words, “Father forgive them.”
· Lincoln, in his second inaugural address the month before his death, pleaded with Northern states to forgive the Southern Confederacy – “With malice toward none.”

Modern religious scoffers have been reluctant to recognize Abraham Lincoln’s deep spirituality, in spite of the fact that he was often known as “Father Abraham” and has been described as one of the most deeply religious presidents the country has ever seen. The key to Lincoln’s belief system was a rough-hewn version of predestination that he absorbed from the evangelical Baptist preachers who scoured the frontiers of Kentucky and Indiana.

Yet for all of his familiarity with the Bible, and his invocation of Providence and of the Almighty, he did not actively participate in a church or lend his name and authority to a denomination. Lincoln was not, as his wife, Mary Todd, later described, “a technical Christian.”

The religious aspect Lincoln’s spirituality was this: Lincoln believed some form of providence was at work in the universe, but was unable to believe in Jesus Christ as his savior. He was once quoted to say that he would join the church that had engraved above its altar: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul, mind and strength.” Although he was unable to believe fully in Christian doctrine, he was never comfort-able in his unbelief. But what is so difficult to comprehend is how, during the devastation of the Civil War, Lincoln’s self-made theology reshaped American history. And the question that is of-ten asked among my fellow Lincoln scholars:

Was Abraham Lincoln a Christian?

Sadness and suffering appear to be at the core of Lincoln’s spirituality. At the age of nine, Nancy Hanks Lincoln, the woman Lincoln claimed as his be-loved angel mother, died in the woods of the family’s Indiana farm. A few years later he lost his sister Sarah who was his closest companion in the world.

In 1850, Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln lost their three year-old-son, Eddie. With Eddie’s death, Mary turned to religion by joining the Presbyterian Church, and Abraham turned to the Bible. His thorough investigation of the scriptures launched him on a steady course that permeated his soul and his future political writings.

In 1862, one year into the Civil War, the Lincoln’s lost their cherished eleven-year-old son, Willie. This particular family tragedy tilted the emotional balance for Mary who sought comfort from an era popularized with spiritualists and séances.
But for Lincoln, this personal tragedy, coupled with the grievous casualties of the war, ignited an even greater faith in God and his own belief of a purpose driven life.

Religion became a hot issue in 1846 when Lincoln ran for congress against a famous Illinois Methodist minister, Peter Cartright. The Cartwright camp spread talk of Lincoln as infidel. Lincoln attended one of Rev. Cartright’s campaign speeches and took a seat not too far from the speaker’s stand. The portly and boisterous Rev. Cartright spied his tall, lean opponent and took advantage of this surprise visit. Rev. Cartright worked his audience into an emotional, revival frenzy.

Finally he said, “If you love the Lord, stand up!”

The crowd rose with arms stretched towards the open sky, cheering for several min-utes. Lincoln remained seated.

“If you are a Christian, stand up!”

The crowd rose again with cheers and outstretched arms. Still, Lincoln remained seated.

“If you know you are going to heaven, stand up!”

This time, the response was thunderous. Spying Lincoln still seated, Rev. Cartright looked over at his congressional opponent and pointed a finger. “You, Mr. Lincoln! Where do you intend on going?”

Lincoln rose to his full height of six feet, four inches, looked around at the thousands gathered, turned to Rev. Cartright and said, “Well, I intend on going to congress.”

The crowd roared.

The next day Lincoln responded to Rev. Cartright’s claims of Lincoln’s disrespect for religion with what is probably his most revealing theological statement. Lincoln wrote: “That I am not a member of any Christian Church, is true, but I have never uttered any disrespect toward religion in general or of any Christian group.”

Lincoln was elec
ted to the United States Congress. It would be his last political vic-tory until the presidential election of 1860. Lincoln would have gained politically by joining a church, maintaining a religious-front and keeping doubts to himself. But that would have been out of character.

Was Lincoln a Christian?

Although Lincoln never joined a church nor ever made a clear profession of stan-dard Christian beliefs, it is obvious that Christianity exerted a profound influence on his life for Lincoln’s speeches and conversation revealed a spiritual perception far above the ordi-nary.

It is one of the great ironies of the history of Christianity in America that the most profoundly religious analysis of the nation’s deepest trauma came not from a clergyman or a theologian but from a politician who was self-taught in the ways of both God and humanity.

The source of Lincoln’s Christian perception will probably always remain a mystery, but of the unusual depth of that perception there is no doubt. Nowhere was that depth more visible than in his Second Inaugural Address of March 1865. This address has often been called the greatest state paper of the nineteenth century, but it is more than a state paper. It is a theological classic.

This occasion on March 4, 1865, gave Lincoln his best opportunity to state the Bibli-cal faith that formed the center of his conviction. He included:
v fourteen references to God
v many scriptural allusions and
v four direct quotations from the Bible.

It is difficult to think of another state paper so steeped in Scripture and so devoted to theological reflection.

Once during the Civil War, a Northern minister told the president, “I hope the Lord is on our side.”

Lincoln, with what I personally believe to be his most prolific statement said, “I don’t think it matters that God is on our side, but it is my constant anxiety and prayer that I and this nation should be on the Lord’s side.”

During the war, God became even more instrumental to Lincoln because he believed God had a magnificent work for America to perform, a work significant for the whole world. It seemed as though Lincoln began speaking not to his country alone but to aspirants for freedom in all countries around the world, and not to his own moment in history but to the centuries.

The proposition that all men are created equal was a truth for the ages, and if Amer-ica, under God, achieved a new birth of freedom, it would stand as an object lesson to all nations.

Was Abraham Lincoln a Christian?

Yesterday afternoon I called up my dear friend of mine in Muncie, Indiana, who is a music professor at Ball State University and an ordained minister. My friend redirected in my thinking by relating a question proposed by one of his religion professors.

The teacher said to his students, “Many ask, ‘do I have faith?’ But what is important to ask is, ‘Am I faithing?’”

The professor turned FAITH into a verb.

As we discussing the mystery of Lincoln’s spirituality I began forming a much more pointed question:

“We can ask ‘Was Lincoln a Christian?’

But we’ll never know the answer. What we should ask is, ‘Was Lincoln Christian?’”

Now this I believe we can justify -Lincoln was, without a doubt, very Christian. But then my friend stated something that seemed to sum up Lincoln’s spirituality. He said: “If anything, Lincoln’s faith was consistent.”

That began unraveling even more ideas and questions – not about Lincoln, but about myself, and my life.

Am I consistent enough?
Do I love others enough?
Do I serve enough?
Do I forgive enough?
Do I love God enough?

The tapestry of Lincoln’s life is masterful. From his suffering he drew compassion. From his weakness he drew strength. Although today we see President Lincoln in stone and on the pages of American his-tory, he was our most human president, and perhaps our most Christ-like who modeled a consistent practice of his faith.

Lincoln’s summary of faith, which I read at the start, is still vital today.

v Have we forgotten God?
v Do we imagine that all the blessings of our own lives are produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own?
v Have we become so intoxicated with unbroken success that we are too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace?
v Are we too proud to pray to the God that made us?

And I ask myself: Am I consistent in my own faith? Amen.

Friday evening, one of my voice students, Katie O’Neill, drove Jose up to the Stevens’ home so he could leave with Pastor Monte and three fellow confirmands for Camp Muwana, an hour or so north of Columbus.

Saturday morning, I woke at 8:30AM having been out with Chris Stevens until 1:15AM. I began balancing my check book, worked on my up coming sermon on Lincoln, cleaned my study, and completed my taxes. Chris called at some point and we talked for about an hour or so. She indicated Monte would be coming home early to avoid the approaching snow storm. At 6:00PM, Matthew and I went to a Chinese dinner and then headed downtown to see the musical, Hairspray. We had listened to the music often in the car, and we all loved the music. The show is fantastic, and definitely worth seeing.

Before leaving for the musical, I called Chris to see if Monte had made it back and she reported he was snowed in! LOL! Kristen would step in to preach again, and everything else seemed to be falling in place. I agreed to arrive early to shovel snow and salt the walks.

Today was a bitter cold that tore right through the coat. After shoveling and salting, I could not shake off the cold. Sunday school, as usual, was sheer delight. Kristen gave a great sermon, and the hymns were good. After church, Matthew and I went to eat and then headed home, thinking that Monte and the four kids would arrive later in the afternoon. At 1:15PM I laid down for my Sunday nap and Jose called to say they would be arriving around 2:00PM. I slept for 30 minutes and then hurried back up north to retrieve my joyful Hispanic son and returned home to continue the nap.

After the nap, Jason called, then Monte, then Jason, then Frank, and then Jason again. Brody left a message at some point to see if I wanted to walk the dogs and smoke the pipes.

Now it is evening. The boys are down in the basement watching television and I am finishing up items before settling down once again with notes I am making for the Lincoln sermon. Susan Pringle, the part-time executive director for the Muse Machine is returning to Dayton this week and we have a major marketing meeting on Wednesday. I have reviewed all the notes and made my own suggestions, for what they are worth.

Tuesday is a parent meeting on the high school musical, and Wednesday is a choir boosters’ meeting. Most of my extra time will be spent preparing the Lincoln sermon. Saturday Matt is taking the ACT next door at the high school. I am also working with several case workers on three different boys from Idaho, Washington and Texas. My sister is throwing a birthday party for my nephew, Andrew, and the Ball State Singers is having a formal dance to which alumni are invited. There is just no way I can make it to Indiana and back in Dayton to be fresh for Sunday. I will be up early Sunday to take photos of those leaving on the Katrina mission trip to Louisiana, and will return home to prep for church.

I hope to produce more blog entries as there are so many things floating around in the brain. I have been in a period of re-inventing myself, and I guess the Muse Machine position is a portion of that. The dieting is so-so, but I am at least making an effort. Finding time for the exercise is the toughest thing, and I hate taking power walks alone. Brody is terribly busy (and married), so that puts a cramp in his time to power walk. Jason works out at 6:00AM – no way. I guess I will just have to reinvent my physical shape at another time.

Lyrics & Music by Bob Dylan Performed by Willie Nelson

Life is a collage of beginnings and endings that run together like still-wet paint. Yet before we can begin any new phase in life, we must sometimes first achieve closure to the current stage we are in. That’s because many of life’s experiences call for closure. Often, we cannot see the significance of an event or importance of a lesson until we have reached closure. Or, we may have completed a certain phase in life or path of learning and want to honor that ending. It is this sense of completion that frees us to open the door to new beginnings. Closure serves to tie up or sever loose ends, quiets the mind even when questions have been left unanswered, signifies the end of an experience, and acknowledges that a change has taken place.

The period of completion, rather than being just an act of finality, is also one of transition. When we seek closure, what we really want is an understanding of what has happened and an opportunity to derive what lessons we can from an experience. Without closure, there is no resolution and we are left to grieve, relive old memories to the point of frustration, or remain forever connected to people from our past. A sense of completion regarding a situation may also result when we accept that we have done our best. If you can’t officially achieve closure with someone, you can create completion by participating in a closure ritual. Write a farewell letter to that person and then burn your note during a ceremony. This ritual allows you to consciously honor and appreciate what has taken place between you and release the experience so you can move forward.

Closure can help you let go of feelings of anger or uncertainty regarding your past even as you honor your experience – whether good or bad – as a necessary step on your life’s path. Closure allows you to emotionally lay to rest issues and feelings that may be weighing down your spirit. When you create closure, you affirm that you have done what was needed, are wiser because of your experience, and are ready for whatever life wants to bring you next.

Nothing new to report… I get up early, do house work or laundry, shower and go to work, spend five to six hours putting out fires and staring at a computer, come home and squeeze in a few more items before teaching for four to five hours, supper with the boys, a little time with them, work at my desk for an hour or so, and then bed. I am trying to read The Grapes of Wrath, but I get a page or two completed and I am sound asleep.

There is no time to do any writing, and this is creating an emptiness. In the musical, Brigadoon, one of the most beautifully written shows, Tommy Albright, the young American who enters the enchanted village and falls in love with Fionna, asks at the end, “Why must we lose something only to realize just how much we loved it?”

Flyer is always excited to see me when I walk in the door, but now she is even more so. At night, both Logan and Flyer snuggle a little closer in bed, and Logan, who for the past eleven years, would reluctantly give me one kiss on the nose each night, now gives me three or four.

Jose leaves tomorrow for a weekend at camp with his confirmation class, and I got tickets for Matt and I to go see Hairspray at the Schuster Center downtown. I may try to do some writing during the day, Saturday, but I also need to do some other things….

Ahhh…. life….

Friday evening, Monte and a van full of teenagers trapsed into the house to pick up Matt for a weekend youth retreat. I was in between the Salchak lessons and Sue Branson, and I forgot to hand over Matt’s registration form. After a round of hugs and filling the van back up with the teenagers, they headed southeast towards the Roberts Center near Wilmington, Ohio.

At 6:30 PM I received a call from Monte – “Do you have Matt’s registration form?” Yes, it was still on my desk. We went through the options and finally, I felt, since it was my error, that I should drive it there rather than Monte doing all the leg work on his end. Before taking off, I repaired a nick in the radiator hose, swung through Wendy’s to feed the youngster, and we were soon on our way towards Wilmington. On I-71 I realized something was wrong, and then the Hot Engine light came on. I pulled over to the side and opened the hood. The hose had slid off. That fixed, we sat a few minutes waiting for the car to cool down. We started back up and within a few miles the needle began moving back to the right. Grrr…. The Hot Engine light came on, again. I realized that the fluids had all run out. So, I added more (which I always carry in the trunk during the winter) and added several bottles of water to the radiator. After turning over the paper – finally – Jose and I made sure there was more water in the radiator. It worked. At 10:00 PM we were heading 48 miles back to Dayton. Now, how butch is that?

On the way home, Jose slept and I chatted with Jeff Carter who was in an Indianapolis hotel the night before an ISSMA vocal competition he was judging. We seemed to focus on the theme of “reinventing” ourselves – career, family, etc. Jeff is assuming a new position at Ball State, and will still – THANK HEAVENS – be directing the Ball State Singers. He has been to China twice this past year, brought the Singers up to a level, musically, they have never been, and adopted a new son. I now have two sons, am in the process of getting one or two more, and am beginning an entirely new life in the arts/education with the Muse Machine. I feel like several new chapters are opening, or have already opened, and it will be interesting to see where this all shall lead.

Saturday morning we woke early to work with the ladies from ACTION Adoption at the Miami Valley Adoption Fair held each winter at Fairhaven Church. It is always a big turn out, and well worth it as the agency always tends to get several new families through this fair. Several other families showed up and I got to spend some time with them in between talking with those who were investigating adoption. Jose was great with the children who came with other ACTION families – what a cheerful little babysitter.

At 3:00 PM we swung by Chris & Monte’s to retrieve Adam for the night. Chris was excited that her sister, Brenda, was coming from Columbus to spend the night since all her menfolk were away. Chris and I were chatting and she asked how I met my friend, Rick, and when I said, “At drum-major camp…” she saluted me as only a fellow field-commander could, and whisked me away to the guest bedroom where she kept photo albums. We checked out drum-major and band photos, and then she showed me photos of their wedding and the boys. She kept apologizing, but I do love looking at photographs! I think my home and blog site are proof enough.

The boys and I went to see Cheaper By The Dozen 2, and it was so well done! Steve Martin is the ultimate screen dad. I use to think that title belonged to Fred MacMurray, but Steve Martin is one of a kind. It was a delightful movie – hilarious in place – but it was also a very tender production for parents. At the end, when Steve Martin cried, I cried. I urge everyone to go see this movie, and then buy it when it comes out on DVD.

We hit the mall so Jose could get a memory card for their Play Station 2. I purchased a travel camera kit – which I later discovered does not work with my camera – though I was assured by the young sales associate it would! We left the hustle and bustle of the mall and ate at Olive Garden – a slow evening on their end. Fortunately, Adam brought a little technical contraption, much like a Game Boy, which played movies – at least the boys were entertained.

En route home, we began playing the alphabet game that does not seem to get old with my sons. Since each of us were only around the letter “I” I drove down to an area near Dorothy Lane and Wilmington Pike so we could get more letters. Determined to finish the game, we ended up several miles south in the Centerville-Bellbrook area near Wal-mart. I accomplished the letter “Q” as I drove through the McDonald’s drive-thru – “Quart Pounder.” Of course, to a 12 and 14 year old, that is just not fair. Well I showed them what “that is not fair” is. I drove to the Game Stop store to get my letter “X” on XBox! Haha! Take that, you prepubescents!

At home the boys immediately headed downstairs to the play station arena, while I tidied up the study and went to bed at 11:30 PM.

The next morning, we arrived at church while I was still chatting with Mother on the phone – a Sunday morning ritual while driving to church. Adam, who normally arrived with his mother, was not use to the Jolliffe-Haas arrival time – early. “I have never been to church this early in my life!” chuckled Adam. However, in my defense, it was only 8:57 AM and Sunday school begins at 9:15 AM. My grandfather was notorious for always arriving early – everywhere. So often we got to head on other excursions due to the fact we were ahead of schedule. Well, life is no different with his eldest grandson who follows the philosophy, “To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late.” I can remember how often we entered church on Sundays to turn on the lights, or on Saturday morning men’s breakfasts we would be there freezing until the fellowship hall and kitchen warmed up. Ugh!

Chris Hetzer
Last night we had dinner with the Hetzers – Bill & Kay, and their two sons, Joey and Chris, to celebrate Chris’ (and Bill’s birthday). As always, it was a wonderful time with one of my favorite families. Kay fixed baked chicken breasts with a delicious sauce, baked potatoes, green beans with chopped almonds on top (which I really like!), cranberry sauce and rolls. Wow! It doesn’t get much better than that.

After dinner, the boys went out to play basketball while the three adults chatted for an hour or so. Then we had home made birthday cake and more fun.
We always hope to get together more often, but it seems as though our schedules raising our sons always hampers us.

Tuesday afternoon I learned that Pat Hill’s father had passed away. Pat is the executive director of ACTION Adoption where I adopted my sons. Pat had been very close to her father and I knew that she had spent a good deal of time with him since he entered Heartland of Kettering last fall. I asked about funeral arrangements and then asked if she had any one to play organ/keyboard for the funeral service, scheduled for Thursday afternoon at 1:00 PM.

Wednesday afternoon, Pat sent me a few songs requested by the family. One in particular I did not know, “If I Had My Way.” Apparently, it was a song they kept singing to their father the last month or so he was alive, but the family could only remember one verse, and did not know the title. Right after work at the Muse, I attempted a quick internet search but it yielded nothing. I sent out an APB to all my music friends. The first responses were empty – and when I received a reply from the music guru of Dayton, Raymonde Rougier, saying she had never heard of it, I figured this song was not to be included.

Around 7:00 PM I received an Email from my former organist at Faith In Christ Lutheran Church. Beth is also a library specialist and found two sites which included the recording – one by the Mills Brothers and one by Willie Nelson. By 10:00 PM Wednesday evening, I had responses from about 14 friends across the nation who had located the lyrics – but no sheet music. I also learned it had been recorded by Frank Sinatra.

I arrived at the funeral home at 12:30 PM and the first thing Pat asked was about the song. Before I knew it, Pat had acquired a computer with internet access in one of the mortuary offices, and I was sitting in front of it listening to the link I had sent her the previous evening. She asked, “Is there any way you could sing at least the first two verse?” I explained that I had not done this in years, and that this was really a lot of pressure to accomplish – as it was now 12:40 PM. Pat leaned forward, placed her hand on my arm and said, “Oh, Darin, I know if anyone can do it, you can.”

That faith was so blind. Pat and I have discussed my career a good deal over the past four years, but she has never seen any of my work. Pat left the little office, and I began listening to the music on the link. The melody was simple enough, as was the harmonic structure. Although I was growing terribly nervous, I remained calmed and utilized 35 years of music training… I figured that I should stick with C Major as it would cause me the least grief. The only thing that concerned me was the fact there were a few secondary dominants sandwiched with in the harmonic progressions, and I could not determine if I had an E7 or D7.

After playing an opener, then “Amazing Grace,” it was time for “If I Had My Way.” I braced myself, still trying to figure out the secondary dominant question. All I had was a copy of the lyrics – the rest was memory and musicianship. I began an introduction – of what I sort of remembered, and then suddenly, the nervousness ended. I remembered what I always tell my students. “Very few people will know if you mess up. Hardly ever does any one sit in the audience or congregation with a script or score.” Well, if the family could not remember the song, I figured I was capable of pulling something off.

It is funny how the brain works, and how old techniques never leave you. Getting back on a bicycle came to mind as “the old touch” seemed to return. All those years of lifting songs off of recordings or the radio for the Ball State Singers, Kings Island, show choirs, bands… it all came back. A skill I had not used in years was suddenly resounding through my system, carrying me with confidence. The melody and words became one:

If I had my way, Dear
Forever there’d be
A garden of roses
For you and for me
A thousand and one things
Dear, I would do
Just for you,
Just for you.

If I had my way
We would never grow old
And sunshine I’d bring every day
You would reign all alone
Like a queen on a throne
If I had my way.

I felt great for two reasons:
As I have grown older and adjusted the career, especially the merger into family life, I figured the former musician in me would simply slip away. It has not. I may not be the fit, trim young man who bounced across the stage as the Prince of Egypt, Jacob’s favored son, but I am still have what it takes. The other thing was that I felt wonderful that I could bring this moment to Pat’s family. Pat has helped me acquire two sons, and is in the process of working on one or two more at the moment. This was the least I could do for her.

To hear Willie Nelson’s version: http://gabbiash.nstemp.com/hadmyway.html And I know this will make my friend, Debbie Allen, happy! She is the world’s biggest fan of Willie Nelson – and I would have never guessed such a classy lady would appreciate Nelson’s music as she does!

A parishioner from North Riverdale Lutheran read my blog entry on our adventures at First Lutheran feeding the hungry this past Saturday, and responded with some of his own memories of growing up at First Lutheran. A few more Emails passed between us discussing memories of church, especially where music was involved. As a music teacher and performer, I have always understood the power of music. Music can be so healing and fulfilling, but it can also wield a remarkable blow when it reminds us of certain moments of sadness or loss.

A few Sundays ago, the organist played a gorgeous prelude, a fine arrangement of “Holy, Holy, Holy” which happened to be my grandfather’s favorite song. For me, starting service was a slight struggle, emotionally. This past Sunday, the choir’s anthem was a medley of the wonderful old tunes that contained so many of the songs with which I grew up. However, one particular song, “May The Circle Be Unbroken” seemed to momentarily shatter the enjoyment of the choir’s anthem. It is such a beautiful song, but I can never hear it without recalling its agonizing strains at my uncle’s funeral.

Tonight, one of my dearest friends in the world, Bill Hetzer, came in to pick up his son, Chris, from his piano lesson. Today was Bill’s 56th birthday, and I could tell he was not in a celebratory mood – something just seemed a little off. We stood talking about family and other items, and then he mentioned his son, Andy, and the tears began. Andy was 16 years old when his life ended on Mother’s Day, 1998. That following summer, Bill and I sat in many restaurants at lunch, crying, discussing Andy, our own mortality and the desire to adopt. He and Kay were not finished being parents, and I was wanting to build my own family. A part of me was hesitant as I watched Bill and Kay struggle with the loss of their own child, but the need to be a father was far greater. Today, Bill was listening to music as he was cleaning some rugs and the lyrics brought back thoughts of Andy. I had been discussing Andy earlier today at the office, as there is a family, Muse Machine board members, who are interested in adopting and will be contacting me this Thursday. Another ironic thing occurred today when my student, Zach, pulled a song from the Methodist hymnal for his sight-reading piece. It was “Come, Christians, Join To Sing” which is a very family tune to Ohio State Buckeyes. Andy was destined to play football for OSU, and this song is a Hetzer family favorite since its melody doubles as “Carmen Ohio” and the lovely hymn. The hymn, sadly enough, was what I led the congregation in singing at Andy’s funeral.

Music has triggered a lot of emotions this week, either at church, in Email conversations, or songs my students have sung in lessons. Today, while Katie O’Neill was singing a lovely musical theatre piece, “Love Changes Everything” and I realized I was choking up. Powerful and moving!

I love the power of music. Once I heard someone say that music is the language of God, or the angels. As a conductor, composer, musical theatre director and teacher, I love utilizing the powerful range of music to reach the cast, crew and eventually, our audience.

In January, 1957, my great-grandmother, Thelma Daugherty Barmes, a splendid pianist and well known as an outstanding soprano, was killed in an automobile-train collision. When the train conductor found her lying in the field where the train had drug her several hundred yards, she was lying there singing “The Old Rugged Cross.” When this story was told to her daughter-in-law, my grandmother, the haunting melody with rich text soon became anathema to my grandmother. I can still remember as a man in my twenties, my grandmother gripping the back of the pew as it was sung in church. Grandpa and Grandma could not bring themselves to open the hymnal when it was sung, and would stare straight ahead as if trying to push out the painful memories that haunted them. Although I was born seven years after Grandma Thelma’s tragic death, “The Old Rugged Cross” is often a sad reminder in some ways. When my cousin Tanya died three years ago, it was sung at her funeral and I saw the effect it still had on my family 45 years later.

Another song that makes me swallow hard is “Anchors, Aweigh” the Navy’s signature song. When I began piano lessons, my Uncle Ron was in the Navy. He bought me the sheet music “Anchors, Aweigh” which I eagerly practiced before his next visit from Virginia. Since his death in 1987, “Anchors, Aweigh” has become a joyful reminder of the wonderful uncle I had, but also a sad one since he is no longer with us.

There are many, many songs which do not haunt, but send chills up my spine. Of course, those are usually from musical theatre repertoire, but I do have songs which delight and lift me. One of my favorites is “Any Dream Will Do” from Joseph & The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Each time I portrayed ‘Joseph’ or directed the show, it was always the song that seemed to empower me. I might be shedding tears as I sang this brilliant finale piece, but they were always happy tears. Classical music seems to lift me as much as my favorite musical theatre selections, and even the very heavy Mozart Requiem is uplifting. Although some Christmas and holiday music can move me to a higher level, there is nothing like patriotic music around the Fourth of July. “The Stars & Stripes, Forever” or Carmen Dragon’s stirring arrangement of “America, the Beautiful” are moments that send chills over me. Of course, my friend, Brody McDonald, my sons’ choir director, introduced me to the world of men’s chorus, a terribly powerful genre of music. There is nothing any greater than hearing a men’s chorus! Women’s choruses are lovely, but they just cannot seem to manage that rich sonority that men can.

When I was writing every morning from home I always had music playing. I might not be listening to it, but it was always on. Now that I work in the mornings at the Muse Machine, there is no music. Life has become exceedingly dull in this area, and I sorely miss the music in my day.