Melanie's Melody

It's official. I am going into business for myself!

I never dreamed I would be walking through this door. Two years ago, my friend Jennie asked me, "Would you ever consider teaching piano lessons?" I had taught piano lessons in the past. Actually, my first year teaching music I had three students. They lived in the neighborhood of the elementary school and paid me $5 per lesson. After I married and moved to San Antonio, I picked up a piano student here and there. One little girl I taught for free. Once we were in Houston, I coached a couple of kids from church before auditions or choir contests. But I had never really considered "going into business" for myself. Who does that, after all?

Michael is an entrepreneur. He is always imagining, thinking, inventing. He reads books about being self-employed, succeeding in business, thinking outside the box. (He says that Seth Godin's new book, "Lynchpin" is really good, by the way.) I am always more of a Negative-Nelly. I can talk myself out of trying things before I even start. "I don't have time." "That will be too hard." "I have the kids!" You get the idea. Maybe you can even relate to that. I think most people are probably more like me.

So, my friend Jennie asked me in the hallway at church one Sunday - would I teach? I didn't know at the time what a pivotal moment that would be. I considered telling her "no". I default to "no". I didn't really NEED the money. I liked my normal routine. Making it work takes effort. I treasure my free time.

But, something compelled me to say.... yes.

Two years have passed since she asked me that question. Today was my second of two Winter recitals. I now have 11 students, with 3 more scheduled to start up later this Spring. I have been going back and forth about what I am going to do next year - go back to Katy ISD or try to make a go of my own thing. One is safe. But the other is exciting. I would generally choose safe. But, (thankfully!) I am married to Michael. And he has given me the greatest gift a husband could give. (No, not money. OK - the SECOND greatest gift.) A year to make this work.

It has been an exciting whirlwind the last couple of weeks. I designed and ordered business cards, Michael commissioned a web designer to build me a web site. I bought a piano!

I am nervous, but hopeful. Best of all, I feel like I am really LIVING in the gifts God has given me. My skill set fits this perfectly.

So - don't be afraid to dream. And then, if you have the wonderful opportunity to "go for it", just do it. Say "yes", even if, especially if, you would naturally say "no, thanks."

You never know where the rabbit hole might lead you.

www.MelaniesMelody.com

Reading

Before the children were born, I loved reading. I enjoyed the classics. I also couldn't get enough of the Mitford series or the #1 Ladies Detective Agency books. I read books on raising children throughout my pregnancies, so I could be prepared for the task of motherhood. Once they were born, I stopped reading. It wasn't a conscious decision really. My free time became time to catch up on my favorite television shows, none of which were rated "G", which made them unwatchable in the presence of the kids. My vision also changed after Zeke was born, making reading uncomfortable, laborious and not very pleasant.

I am married to an avid reader. We both believe in the importance of reading, and so almost every Saturday we go to the public library as a family to get new books. Julia reads nearly 30 books each month. At the end of each visit, we carry our large stack of books to the check-out area: books for Michael, books for Julia, books for Zeke.

I should have known they were paying attention.

Last Mother's Day, I unwrapped Julia's gift, made in her classroom. It was a beautiful bookmark with her picture on it and a little poem about me. "Sorry if you don't like it, mom" she said, before I could even respond to the gift. "I TOLD my teacher that you don't read." Ouch.

I found myself in a new place this year. For the first time in my life, I don't have any "physical" New Year's resolutions. I have lost 95 pounds, I have braces on my teeth...outside of some plastic surgery, there is not much more to be done in that arena. So, I have looked deeper this year to some inner changes I desire to make. First on that list:

Read more. Watch less.

So, yesterday we took our Saturday trip to the public library. I didn't make a big deal out of it, but I picked out two books - one fiction, one non-fiction. We carried our large stack of books to the check-out area. "What's that one?" Julia asked, as one of my books passed through the scanner. "Oh, that one is for me", I replied, as casually as I could.

What came next, I will never forget, if I live to be 100. Julia and Zeke looked at each other and then at Michael, their faces filled with inexpressible joy. Then, Julia's joy erupted in one, loud sentence:

"MOM CAN READ!"

Zeke was obviously impressed with my new-found literacy, because then they both broke the universal rule of libraries (the "shhh" rule) and began chanting loudly together:

"MOM CAN READ! MOM CAN READ! MOM CAN READ!"

Laura Bush would have been so proud. So would my first grade teacher. I wasn't sure if I should take a bow or hide. I felt the urge to do both. (It was as if I was in an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" - I was the wife of a farmer in Walnut Grove who kept the shocking secret that I could not read. Then Ma Ingalls found out, and tutored me privately, until the day that I read aloud from the hymnal in church and the whole town threw me a party to celebrate. Mrs. Olsen even made homemade ice cream...) Instead, I just asked them to cheer a little quieter.

It was quite a moment. By the way, I am halfway through my non-fiction book already. Julia TOLD me reading was fun.

Who knew?

Tradition!

If you have ever seen "Fiddler on the Roof", you are already singing the song just based on my title. In the musical, the Papa is explaining why things "are the way they are". No matter the question, the answer is simple: "tradition". I remember the first time I heard the song. I was a college student, and I was lucky enough to get a role in the ACU production. As a budding adult, barely 20, the Papa in the play struck me as stuck in his ways, old fashioned. "Tradition" had a negative taste to it. Back in those days, "liturgy" was an undesirable word to me as well. Where was the fun in that? Fun means "different" and "spontaneous". Right?

This morning was our annual Scripture and Song service at Bering Drive Church of Christ. The auditorium that recently has been "home" to 160 people, was filled with 210 people. There were founding members, out of town friends and family, new friends from across the street. They didn't come this morning because we were doing something different and spontaneous. They came for one reason: tradition! We shared an hour together hearing the story of the birth of Jesus. We shared bread and wine. The story was not "jazzed up" or changed in any way. It was completely scripted from the Bible. It was nearly 100% predictable. It was absolutely beautiful.

Part of the beauty of this service to me is that my mother is one of the readers. As I heard my mother reading the words she has read for many, many years, "May it be to me as you have said", I had to choke back the urge to cry. Life is so full of change. By very nature, it is unpredictable. But, for a brief moment, it was exactly the way it should be. I caught myself scanning the left side, fifth row back, almost expecting to see my Little Granny sitting there smiling. She was always a big fan of this Sunday too. After church we would always speak to her, tell her how pretty she looked, and then we would exchange compliments for mom. "Didn't she do a good job?" "Yes, she always does," she would answer. She would have been proud today.

Tradition makes you miss people too.

Now that I am approaching 40 and other changes on the horizon, I think this morning meant even more to me than usual. This church means a lot to me. It's family to me. Like any family, we have some unique characteristics. We do things differently. We sing without instruments. Sometimes, we do hokey things. (Like today at our luncheon, acting out the "Twelve Days of Christmas") These are things that people peeking in the windows might not understand. But, this is what families do! This is home to me. It was in this church that I was baptized. It was in this church that I was married. It was in this church that our children were dedicated as babies. It was in this church that we said goodbye to my Little Granny. This church has supported us as we raised our babies to school-age children. Our kids feel safe there. That is priceless.

There are certainly "glitzier" churches. But, I think my heart will always be here with this one. Although I never thought I would say it, I really love my tradition. And on mornings like this one, Papa and I find ourselves in complete agreement.

Orthodontic Faith

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we have not seen." This scripture from Hebrews pertains to many occasions in life. It certainly applies to braces. This will all be worth it in the end. Right?

As I write this, I have just finished my fourth meal with my brand new braces. I am not counting the meals because they are so memorable. I am counting them because they are terrible. My first meal was ice cream. My second was yogurt. My third was a chicken salad sandwich. And tonight, I had about a cup of mashed potatoes. Yum. I knew there would be discomfort. Everyone told me that. But, they did not tell me I would be STARVING. Seriously, obese people should just skip the gastric bypass surgery and get braces. I think it might be cheaper.

It is strange getting braces as an adult. My problem is two-fold: first of all, I have the normal issues with the braces - they hurt, my lips seem to be constantly needing moisture and I am unable to eat. I know that the soreness will wear off, but eating is just not fun anymore. I have learned a few things over the past four meals. You have a choice - things that are hard to chew, like a turkey sandwich, but keep your teeth relatively clean. Or, you can eat things that are easy to chew, like a chicken salad sandwich, and be rinsing off chicken salad for two hours after eating. Seriously. Yuck. Cleaning them almost qualifies as a part-time job. I am going to need stock in Colgate by the end of this next 15 months. Oh my goodness, that sounds long.

The second problem is that I am paving the way for my two, bound-for-orthodontic-work children. They are constantly asking me, "how are your braces?" and I have to answer them with a seriously optimistic slant. "They are a little sore, but it's not so bad." I cannot tell them the truth. They will have to discover it on their own. It's kind of like the flu shot. I remember the day in October very vividly. I went first. They both studied my face for expressions of pain or fear or something bad. I smiled through the whole thing. Then, their turns weren't so bad. In addition to that, Michael has banned me from complaining. That was one of the conditions for plunking down this much money. He would have rather gotten a new recliner.

Today, one of my piano students gave me a giant tower of treats as a Christmas present. It is filled with peppermint taffy (nope), peanut brittle (nope) and truffles (nope). I thought for a minute I might cry, but it passed. I have never lost weight during Christmas, but I think this might be the year.

So, while other adults are longing for jewelry or new cars this season, I am dreaming about gum. I will keep reminding myself that I wanted this. And that one day, as I gaze into the mirror, my faith will become a reality.

Generation Gap

I am getting old. Not walker-old. Not diaper-old. But, middle-aged old. Recently I had an experience which proved this to be true, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I went to see "Twilight: New Moon". I went on opening weekend. I knew I was in trouble in the concession line. The giggling girl behind the counter asked the girls in line in front of me, "Are you on Team Edward?" "Yes!" they giggled back. "Then you are going to LOVE the movie," she said. She didn't ask me. She knew better. Or maybe she assumed I was seeing a movie for grown-ups. Not sure.

The theatre was filled with tweens and teens, all checking their phones for incoming texts before the movie started. "Surely they will stop that when the movie begins", I grumbled to myself as the annoying little lights flashed to the left and the right of me. The only preview that appealed to me at all was for a movie starring Alec Baldwin and Meryl Streep. Another sign of my age. There were a couple of other previews, focused on some guy named Zac and another with the star of "Twilight". These did not appeal to me at all, although the crowd around me seemed quite jazzed by them.

During the first scene of "New Moon", Edward (the main character, who is a vampire) made his appearance. An ear-piercing squeal rose throughout the room. Girls around me were literally going crazy. Personally, I do not think that Edward is even cute. I was rooting for the competition. I lost.

The acting was horrible. Beyond horrible. The angst was so thick, you could barely cut through it with the annoying cell phone lights. There were half a dozen "almost" kisses during the course of the movie. Each time, we were treated to a loud squeal of frustration from the girls in the theatre. Good grief.

The movie ended on a bit of a cliff-hanger. Personally, I am not hanging on the cliff. BECAUSE I DON'T CARE. As the ending credits rolled, the tweens and teens in the room clapped. They applauded. Ridiculous silliness. We filed out to a line full of fresh-faced kids waiting anxiously for the next showing. The girl behind me said perkily to the waiting mob, "You are going to LOVE IT!" I wanted to warn them, but I don't think they would believe me anyway. Kids hardly ever listen to old people. They would probably just roll their eyes.

So, I will not be attending the next "Twilight" movie. I have decided I can live without knowing what happens to Edward and Bella. God bless them on their life together. Mine is probably half over. And I'm OK with that. (smile)

Julia

Time flies when you're having fun. That's what they say, right? Truth is, it flies no matter what. Even when you are not having fun. Time flies. This is an even more poignant truth when you have children.

My first born, Julia, is seven. (She would add "and a HALF".) At this exact moment, I am overhearing her directing Zeke in a play they are working on in her room. At this exact moment, she is being very patient with him and is enjoying his company. This could change, however, in an instant, much to Zeke's chagrin. Julia is crazy about her little brother. Julia is driven crazy by her little brother. This is how each day goes.

This year, she wants to be a veterinarian. She loves animals. On a recent field trip to the Outdoor Learning Center, her convictions were seen in full force. As the other children were handling and studying the pelts of different animals (squirrel, fox, sheep, skunk), Julia was having her own "sit-in" against the wall. While others were labeling, Julia was praying - for all the animals who "lost their lives". Oh, the drama. That's Julia.

Sometimes, she blows my mind. She was always precocious. That has not changed. For a while, I thought she was going to be a tomboy. That has definately changed. She can often be found rummaging through my drawers, looking for jewelry she can borrow, or nail polish she can use. Since she is not allowed to have her ears pierced yet, she has started using glitter stickers on her ears. As she told me this week, "I really like fashion." And she does. She puts clothes together that I would never put together. And, occasionally, it works!

I saw in her notebook the other day, "Samuel is so cute!" I am not eager for this stage to begin, and yet, I remember having mad crushes on boys when I was just a little older than she is now. Relationships with other children are getting more complicated these days. Some days on the way home from school, she will cry about a friend who "doesn't want to be friends anymore." One girlfriend recently told her she "wasn't pretty enough" to be in their cheer club. Girls can be so mean to each other. I suppose that will never change. Too bad. I wanted to scream, "You don't need their stupid cheer club!" But, I knew if I did, she would remind me that "we don't say 'stupid'". So instead, I tried to change the subject to something different. She brought it back up. I gave my best advice: "You are beautiful inside and out. Be yourself. There are plenty of other girls to be friends with." Her reply said what she was feeling: "But, mom, I really want to be in their cheer club." Oh good grief. I yearn sometimes for the early days when problems were solved with ice cream.

Time flies when you're having fun. And when you aren't.

I still check on her at night, before I go to bed. Her bed is usually surrounded with stacks of books. She can read anyone under the table. Funny thing is, I can barely remember her as a baby now. She is multi-faceted now. Like a beautiful diamond. The bittersweet truth is - as much as I yearn to protect her from the world, from the mean girls, from the "Samuels" who will not return her affections, or the ones who will (Lord help us!) - those things will make her the woman she will ultimately become. She'd never believe me anyway, if I tried to warn her. She will have to live her life, make her own mistakes, learn her own lessons.

But, for now, she is seven. Seven and a half. She breaks my heart sometimes. She heals my heart sometimes. She's just like me. She's nothing like me. She's my Julia.

And oh, how I love that little girl.

A Halloween Story

I like spooky movies. From time to time, I get in the mood to be spooked. I have watched movies on a variety of scary topics. But, not movies about Satan, demons or demon-possession. Why? Because I believe that stuff is real. And that makes it just a little too scary for me.

Growing up with a Bible teacher mother and a Bible theologian father, I knew the difference between right and wrong. I also was taught that dealing with Satan is dangerous, and tinkering with things "of Satan" was prohibited in our house and warned against. We were not allowed to participate in slumber party "seances" or play with Ouiji boards. That was a door to trouble. And I accepted that warning from my parents. And I obeyed.

Except once. And that one time, I have never forgotten.

I was in fifth grade. My best friend, Amy, and I decided we wanted to try to "contact" her dead uncle, who was killed in the Vietnam War. We set up candles in her family's living room. We had a tape recorder set on "record", just in case we could hear the spirit voices on the tape, even if they were not audible in person.

We turned out all the lights. Since it was a cloudy and overcast day, the mood was set.

And we began to call him.

"We want to speak to Uncle Tim."
"Uncle Tim, speak to us so we know you are there."
"Give us a sign!"
"Give us a sign!"
"GIVE US A SIGN!"

CRASH! BOOM! Then a loud, piercing siren.

Lightning had struck her house. When it hit the roof, that set off their fire alarm. I am not even kidding. Well, it was a sign all right - a sign that we needed to get the heck out of that house. We ran across the street as fast as our legs would go to a neighbor's house. We explained to our neighbor what had happened. She said something like, "what are the odds?"

What exactly happened that day? Was it Amy's uncle trying to communicate from the "other side"? A sharp correction from God? Just a very strange coincidence? I don't know. We never will. But, we never did that again.

And that, is a true story.

Happy Halloween.