On Friday, after three days without any improvement, I finally went to the doctor and procured a prescription. Halfway through, the round of gut-melting antibiotics are helping immensely and although I still have a persistent headache, the pain has diminished significantly. I was able to go to church on Sunday. My eyeballs only throb every now and then. My status quo right now is to get the kids to school, do the bare minimum around the house, and then SIT still all day. Sit and read. I have read six books in the past week. They are fluffy bubblegum books, but that's still well over a thousand pages total! Mine and Amber's birthday happened on Day Two of the antibiotics. I suffered through the extra throbbing caused by bending over, and took some pictures of Amber turning three, cutie patootie. On Saturday I also throbbed my way through the piano ribbon festival and played duets with Jay and Rose. It was good to get back home to my quiet stationary spot on the couch, though.
Due to this thrilling sinus ache, I haven't run in TEN DAYS--a feat that may well equate to madness in my world. It is doing wonders for healing my achilles injury though! Early this week I tried going on a short 2 mile walk with a friend, and came back with a head so throbby my right eyelid puffed up, my eyes ached, and I could barely see straight for three hours afterwards. This sinus infection is the boss of me, and as antsy as my legs may be, after that eye-closing experience I am prepared to wait it out and not run until it's been beaten into antibiotic submission by those massive fat pills.
I've been working really really hard at enduring this sinus infection patiently. I know I didn't bear the worst of it quite as gracefully as I could have, but it did remind me just how wonderful it is to be married to a superstar. With his seemingly simple acts of service, Jeff showed me true love and I adore his heart o gold even more.
Sunday rolled around and I hadn't practiced piano all week. Raging headaches are not conducive to noise, moving, or thinking, all of which must happen simultaneously for successful piano-playing. Sunday morning, I swallowed some extra strength Tylenol, said a few prayers, and cranked out a cram-jam practice sesh for half an hour before heading to church. Amazingly, I had my best Sunday Primary piano-ing yet. I thought my terror and stress of the previous two Sundays had stripped me to my core of quaking humility, but a week without practice humbled me even further. I knew that I was completely at the mercy of my anxious prayers combined with whatever muscle memory my hands had retained. Coasting off of previous practicing was scary! I had no idea how much I would remember.
Over the past few weeks, I have upped my piano practice to an hour every day in an attempt to gain the upper hand on that feisty Children's Songbook. I have been going all out to learn these tricky songs, and I felt progress slowly seeping through my fingers. But the improvement felt disproportionately slow to my hours of slaving over the fiddly notes. Fast forward, through that week without piano-ing, to this Sunday: I got a text message listing the songs we'd be singing the night before and when I went to play through them before church, there were four songs I already knew via previous practicing. I then managed to learn three new songs during the short pre-church warmup! At my level, that is unheard of.
Quite a number of little puzzle pieces came together to form a bigger piano picture on Sunday, and at the end of the day, I stepped back to look at the resulting view in awe. I just "happened" to have flipped to one of this week's new songs in a previous practice and played through it a few times. The second new song was a simpler version of a hymn I already knew. The third new song was only two lines long and in the blessed key of C, always my friend. So I was able to cobble together singable versions of all three new songs without too many nerves attached (besides the ones pulsing in my sinuses). Playing piano is a physical feat of coordination and concentration. It is absolutely fascinating and humbling and awe-inspiring to receive divine assistance in such a specific, visible, physical way. It's kind of like the gift of tongues for foreign missionaries, but instead it's the "gift of fingers" for under-skilled pianists. Saying yes to this calling in spite of my fears and taking on that massive scary musical workload has put me in a position to see real life, personalized miracles. I have been marveling at the experience all week.
Another tender mercy from Sunday really quick: junior primary's singing time ended too early, so the substitute chorister picked a song he knew the kids could sing well: hymn #239, Choose the Right. That is the first hymn I learned how to play way back as a twelve year old, and I own those notes! So I pounded it out, all three verses, while the kids sang as LOUDLY as they could. They were excellent. The bishop had to come and admire their singing, because he heard it all the way from his office on the opposite corner of the building! That was the first time I really had fun playing piano at church. It was a song I knew well, and the kids sang it with such gusto that I really had to put some energy into my playing. And all of it was a last minute time-filler inspiration from a substitute chorister. God is in the details. I have never felt so poised on that piano bench!
When I started writing this post, I did not intend for it to take a "religious" turn. I didn't even really plan on linking my sinus infection with my latest piano playing. Sometimes I wonder if these types of posts come on too strong. But I can't accurately or honestly write about my life if I leave out my reflections. My faith is part of my every day life! Not every single event is a spiritual experience, but I find that whenever I tackle a challenge or Scary Thing the right way, they usually end up becoming spiritual experiences in the end. I love stepping back and recognizing God's hand in the small and simple things. Because he is always there, whether we recognize him or not! He is simply there.
A lesson that is being drilled into me in a variety of ways, over and over is this: our mortal experience with a physical body provides experiences that teach us lessons we cannot learn in any other way. I am finding strength and power from unassuming sources. There is power along the journey of enduring to the end, not just in the end. There is power in the aftermath of taking a leap of faith, not just in the act of leaping. There is power in submitting to God's will and following through, not just in trudging along blindly. There is power in working really really hard.
In the words of Brinnley Ashton, (a beloved member of our previous ward, serving down south in the Macon Georgia LDS Mission who writes the best weekly emails to the ward which I still read even though I'm not in that ward anymore):
We have been working really, really hard. But you know what happens when you work hard? You see fruits.
Amen, Sister A! The fruits--plural--are so sweet and worth every second of hard work.
Completely unrelated kid pictures, from the golden month of October before cold harsh November attacked:
1 comment:
HI. You're doing such a good job! Reading your reflections about that truly evil headache made my sinuses quake. You are amazing! I love how you know when to slow down, when to ask for help, when to suck it up and when to just sit still. You're a good example to me!
And accepting that piano calling when you felt so nervous is still so impressive to me!! I loved how you explained your most recent experience like a physical "gift of tongues." From one pianist to another, you hit the nail on the head! Wish I could come support you and make you laugh and give you a hug but an every-so-often blog comment will have to suffice. Love you!
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