Last Song

This morning was hard, even though we'd seen the day approaching for years.

Today was the day that the band had to say goodbye to Mid-Life Rookie's husband, G&T.

When MLR started the ordination process, we all knew it would eventually take them both away from us. We are United Methodist; preachers move. Because of her appointment to the Conference office, they were able to stay longer than we'd even dared to imagine... but next Sunday, she preaches her first sermon in her own pulpit. It's really happened. She's ordained, and they're moving on. It's a wonderful thing. I'm elated for them, and fiercely proud of her, my dear friend.

Yet it's okay for me to be crying as I type these words. And if it weren't okay, that wouldn't matter; I'd still be letting these tears fall. Our two families' lives have become intertwined over the past decade, and change is hard.

For the band, after denial came acceptance, and after acceptance came planning. Because of that planning by this group of really generous and creative people, we were able to present G&T with four things today: an art-guitar with our signatures on the back, decoupaged on the front with photos of all of us, mixed in with several of his favorite more-famous musicians; a gift card to a store where we know he's spent thousands of dollars on music equipment over the years; our love; and our music.

Wednesday at practice, we put together the anthem G&T chose. It related to the scripture our guest preacher was using, of course. He's good at paying attention to that stuff. And it also happened to be a totally bad-ass song that we do rather well. (Can church be bad-ass? Why yes, yes it can.)

And Thursday night the band convened, minus G&T, for a super-secret rehearsal to prepare our farewell song to him, which we played in place of our usual benediction response.

Last Song
by Bill Mallonee and Julie Miller
May your peace be an anchor in stormy times;
May your hope run like a river that'll never run dry;
May your burdens grow light, may your worries subside:
This is our prayer for you.
May your soul grow deep; may your joy run wild;
May your heart know the face of Mercy has smiled;
May your faith come to let you believe like a child:
This is our prayer for you.

We divided the lyrics line by line between the two of us girls -- otherwise, we probably couldn't have gotten through it without crying. It wasn't my best vocal work, but I did sing every note and word I was supposed to sing, and I even managed to look at MLR and G&T for part of it.

Lots of other important and good things happened today: our annual conference lay member gave her report to the congregation; our Conference Lay Leader, a good friend of mine and an excellent preacher, delivered the (also bad-ass) message so our pastor could leave with the youth after the first service; and the youth, with The Alpha and our pastor among their leaders, left for their week-long mission trip.

I came in from the parking lot just before the mission trip vans left. It was time to robe up and sing in the choir for second service. It wasn't until the end of the service that I got teary-eyed again. Because here's what I finally noticed when we stood to sing the closing hymn:

You may not be able to tell what it is. The table is our church's altar, seen from the rear, where the band sets up and the choir is seated. In this photo you can see part of the green altar cloth, the open Bible, one of the candles, the foot of the wrought-iron cross...

...and a guitar pick.

After the first service, G&T left it upon the altar as an offering.

(It only hit me in the car afterward that of course, it was the appropriate liturgical color, too. This man has Jerry Garcia ties in all the colors of the church year. He is totally ready to be a "preacher's wife.")

Thank you, G&T, for your offering. For all the years of dedication, the outpouring of your giftedness in service to God in this place. We love you.

Grand... 6 grand, actually...

Photo snapped during the audience participation portion of Black Water

Well, we did indeed have a grand time last night, and we raised more than $6,100 for UMCOR's Haiti Emergency Fund. (That total would've been just over $3,000, which would be nothing to sneeze at, but at some point before the Finance Committee chair finished counting the money, an anonymous donor let him know that whatever the total, this person would match it. Awesome.) That doesn't count other gifts that were added to the offering plate in worship this morning, and still others that were designated for the same cause the previous two Sundays.

As far as the performance itself goes, if we can just make the time to go out on tour, doing the same two song sets every night for the next six months, we'll have this thing down.... (Oh, wait. That's one of many reasons I'm not a rock star.) Seriously, things did go pretty well from a musical standpoint. And it was good to see different people in the crowd, too -- not just folks from our congregation. We weren't quite at standing-room-only, but I don't think I've seen the sanctuary that full since Easter.

Twenty-one songs is a lot of work, especially when you begin by whittling the list down from 40, finding mistakes in every chord sheet, enduring waves of panic when you're certain you'll never have it ready on time, deciding exactly how to play every intro, bridge, chorus, etc. ... But I think this is the point, at least for some of us, when the pendulum swings from "This is too much trouble. Let's never do one of these again..." all the way over to, "Hey, what's our next set list going to look like?"

There's no telling when we'll actually do another concert, but I confess, I like it when the pendulum has swung over to this side.

Because it's been too long since I blogged.

Check out these paper-collage portraits my friend J made of my The Boy and my Tueserday:


If you look closely, you can see that The Boy's nose paper has stars embossed on it. It just seems right that he has a starry nose. Also, the white blaze has kind of a worn gray wood-grain that really looks like the blend of white and blue in his fur. Notice, too, how she got his Bentley mark a little off-center, just like the real one.



And this one just captures the whimsy of Teh Tueser, we think. "I'm cute, I know it, and I may or may not listen to anything you say. Oh, and food? Really, some food please? I'm starving."

Other items of note:
- The Alpha and I weren't going to get each other Christmas presents this year. Then the clothes washer busted, in spectacular fashion, this weekend. Our Christmas gift was delivered today and has already done several loads of laundry for us.
- We are very glad we went with the wood-look porcelain tile in the kitchen, laundry room, dining room, and entryway during this summer's remodel. All four of those rooms were hit by the Great Washer Failure of Aught-Nine, and if we'd chosen actual wood, the ShopVac wouldn't have been the only thing needed for clean-up.
- Got to see/hear my nephew as part of my alma mater's choir last week. I sang 36 of those Candlelight Carol services in my four years as a student. Damn shame they've cut the tour portion so short now (two stops a tour hardly makes) that he will only get to sing 24 of them. Yeah, I'm old. "In my day, we did five tour stops in four days! Count 'em! And get off my lawn."
- Christmas Music Extravaganza day is over. *Contented sigh* The podcast is online, too. If you want a link and I haven't sent you one already, let me know in the comments.
- I wondered how it would go, really, but I'm pleased to report that I'm still completely happy with my choice to not put up a Christmas tree this year. *Contented sigh*
- On tap for final-week-of-the-year activities: Sort through back bedroom contents for donating, listing, recycling, trashing, keeping. Oh, and the vintage 1978 harvest gold range hood and cooktop are still in the patio. Those need to find a new home, too.
- Time for bed.

A first

Senior year in college, my voice teacher focused on teaching me more practical things than Italian arias (thank the Lord). He told me, "Some day you're going to be asked to sing for a wedding, and some day you're going to be asked to sing for a funeral. Let's get you ready."

The first wedding was for The Alpha's little sister, back in 2000. The first funeral was today.

It was a graveside service for the mother and grandmother of dear friends; someone I'd never met, but who was obviously a wonderful woman of faith who loved her family. I can see that love in her descendants.

"Amazing Grace" was one of her favorite songs. I sang three verses, a cappella. Her family thanked me, but I too, was grateful to be able to help in this way.