That is the bare bones of the
events. Now for the actual STORY on top of those bones...
I could write a novel about the
primary program practices alone, but I do not feel like reliving them. Suffice
it to say that being primary pianist is a big stressful job, and our first
program practice left me emotionally lacerated, drained, and weepy.
Contributing factors to that low point include an exceptionally long,
exhausting cross country meet the day before and the ever-present monthly
cycle. It was a perfect storm for a post-church breakdown. I recovered, though,
and the second practice was much more bearable. During the week leading up to
the program, I learned that I am really only capable of living in mortal terror
of one thing at a time. I can stress about at least a dozen things at once, but
I can only focus on one source of sheer terror at a time. On Wednesday,
Thursday, and Friday before the program, I experienced my first three days of
coaching cross country alone. That intimidating responsibility proved
distracting enough to keep my piano performance nerves in check. I practiced
the primary songs-a-plenty during the day, but the various demands of
solo-coaching left me no mental real estate to spare for stressing over the
pending performance.
The day before the program
(Saturday), we had a cross country meet in Wenatchee (a 2 hour 15 minute bus
ride away), which had us up and at 'em and coaching from 4:30am-5pm (including
20,000 steps). I did not even touch a piano on Saturday. Sunday was the day,
ready or not, groggy or not. I put on a comfy long dress and twisted my hair
into a functional no-nonsense bun so I could focus on the piano, not on tucking
my hair or outfit into place.
Before church, I played through
all of the songs at home. Spikes of ice worthy of Queen Elsa jabbed through my
stomach every time I thought about what I was about to do. Every time I felt
that cold wrench in my middle, I got all shaky. This was not good. Shaky hands
can't play the piano. I needed to work through the fear and figure out how to
function. Throughout the previous weeks, I had been brainstorming ways to
handle the performance terror, and I figured that my best bet was to keep it at
bay--not to attempt to overcome it or remove it entirely--simply hold that
crippling fear back just enough to function. But how to do this? My efforts in
the past had all failed abominably.
Out of nowhere (hello,
inspiration!) an article I read online a few months ago drifted into my mind.
It listed coping strategies for people with anxiety. The technique that came to
my frozen brain was "box breathing:" breathe in through the nose for
a count of four, hold it and pause for a count of four, exhale through the
mouth for a count of four, hold it and pause for a count of four, then repeat
as needed.
After a dog attack this summer, I
tried box breathing to calm down. Unfortunately it didn't work because I was
much to out of breath from the adrenaline rush, sprinting for my life, and
screaming my head off with a dog snapping at my heels. I wrote box breathing
off as a lame idea invented by some coach or doctor who had never actually
tried it in real life. But I was desperate before the primary program so I gave
it another go, breathing, counting, and holding while I sat on the piano bench
at home. After a few cycles around the box, I opened my eyes and was surprised
to find how much calmer I felt. Yay! I prayed again for help and then continued
practicing.
We arrived at church early so I
had time to reacquaint myself with the piano there (it's a beauty) and work out
some nerves. When we walked in to the empty chapel, Amber asked "where are
all the people?" For some reason, the act of walking up to the front of
the chapel slashes a dagger of terror through my gut, even in an empty room. I
practiced my box breathing and dodged the dagger as I walked through the empty
room to the piano. People began to arrive as I played, and I felt the
floodwaters of anxiety rise again. My hands started to shake. I paused and
breathed through a box or two. The floodwaters receded just enough--I was still
uncomfortably close to the deep end, but my hands were steady again. I played
the piano until the organist arrived to play prelude.
Before the primary kids came to
sit up front and do their presentation, we had the usual opening song, prayer,
announcements, and the sacrament. In order to avoid the dangerous
floodwater-drowning, hand-shaking terror of walking up front in a room full of
people, I elected to sit up front the whole time, slightly hidden by the bulk
of the piano. I was poised for action to scooch onto the bench and play the
piano to muffle the commotion while the kids found their places.
During the opening song, I stared
at the hymn book and focused on singing the alto part, doing my best to ignore
the sea of faces in front of me. It worked because I'm no great singer, and it
takes a lot of brainpower for me to pick out the alto part. As I looked out at
the congregation after the song, I thought,
"Everyone out there is rooting for me and the primary kids. They
won't be mad or upset if I mess up. They are all on my side!"
It was a comforting thought. I
felt a wave of love soothe my abraded nerves. Several more times before the
kids came up front, I had to alternately box breathe and pray away the waves of
panic. It was exhausting! Then the sacrament ended, the kids came tromping up
to take their seats, and it was GO time.
The theme in primary this year
was I am a child of God, and thank goodness for that beautifully simple song,
written in the friendly key of C. I played that with my cold clammy fingers
while the kids bustled and bumbled into their seats, and then we were off!
Amber about swallowed the microphone whole when it was her turn, but she got
out a few intelligible words while the helper whispered hints in her ear. I was
so distracted watching the cute kids that I found myself thinking "why is
it so quiet?" before jumping to attention and starting the next song.
The songs in the program were:
- · I am a Child of God (easy)
- · My Heavenly Father Loves Me (moderately easy)
- · If the Savior Stood Beside Me (moderately easy)
- · Build an Ark (tricky)
- · I Will Follow God's Plan (moderately tricky)
- · Baptism (HARD)
- · Families Can Be Together Forever (moderately tricky, but I didn't have to play it)
- · A Child's Prayer (tricky)
So, how did it go? The short,
honest answer is: I nailed it. I was
able to keep my head above the tide of anxiety and play the songs smoothly with
minimal stumbles. I am still a little bit in awe over how smoothly it went. A
performance that I can look back on without wanting to move out of the country?
Unheard of. I was less than an inch from panic the whole time, but I did not
panic. My nerves were strung so tight I could almost hear them humming, but
they did not snap. I was tense but controlled. Box breathing to the rescue!
While I was playing the piano
during the program, waves of emotion would periodically wash over me, bringing
with them different thoughts, impressions, and memories. During If the Savior
Stood Beside Me, I felt the simple sweet spirit of the truths in the song.
I felt that musically connected feeling--a connection between my fingers
playing the music and the kids' voices singing it. It was a big shining feeling
of joy to be a part of the spirit of their performance.
Playing each song brought to my
mind a highlights reel of sorts, of all the hours I spent with those songs,
hating them, loving them, practicing them over and over and over and over and
over. We got to know each other so well. A few months ago I sat down to
practice If the Savior Stood Beside Me after a rough morning. The
words to the third verse hit me with such a vivid force and it was as though
the Lord was speaking those words for the first time, straight to me during
that moment: "He is always near me, though I cannot see him there, and
because he loves me dearly I am in his watchful care." It came into my
head like "I am always near you, though you cannot see me there, and
because I love you dearly you are in my watchful care." It was a personal,
beautiful, brief flash of a moment/feeling that came back to me as I played
that song again.
I felt a wave of something like
nostalgia for the struggle of learning these eight songs on the piano. It was
truly an agonizing, refining process. I'm still the pianist, so the process is
far from over; it is just at an ebb in the cycle.
When it was time to sing Baptism
(notoriously the hardest song in the children's songbook), I clambered over the
mental barrier trying to barricade me from those running stretching eighth
notes and three flats, and laaaaa! It flowed out smooth as butter. All of those
hours of playing the rocking notes till my thumbs hurt came back to me in a
rush. It worked. I practiced my brains out and it actually helped!
Tangible, visible success is sweet.
Every successful song I played
was accompanied by a rush of gratitude and relief. I still had to box breathe a
few times between songs, and I fidgeted worse and worse right along with the
kids as the program wore on, but my focus was acute and I was in the zone! I
felt the confidence of hours of practice in my fingers helping me play. I kept
reminding myself that I was READY. I had put in the work. The work was done.
Now it was time for faith. And box breathing. Alongside my well-practiced
fingers, I also felt a distinct presence supporting me, calming me, and
smoothing out the rough edges of my playing. I still had to do my part and
manage the anxiety with measured breathing, but the breathing made me able to
notice the spirit that was there with me.
I experienced the beautiful truth
that God's grace is available for everyone, even obscure unsure pianists.
Our double family group singing
Families Can Be Together Forever went smoothly. Sister M. took the piano bench
and I filed up front with my kids. Amber and her counterpart in the other
family stood on the stool behind the podium. They were very interested in the
microphone. I tipped the microphone way up high and asked Amber to fold her
hands on the podium to keep her from grabbing for the microphone or poking her
neighbor. The other little girl folded her hands too, and it was such a cute
sight, with those two little hands folded next to each other on the podium.
They kept their hands folded for the entire song! It was a relief because Amber
is always a wild card, and microphones are tempting toys. We sang our no-frills
no-parts (all melody) two verses, and I returned to my place behind the piano.
For A Child's Prayer (the second
to last song--almost done!), the teachers all moved to one side up front to
sing in a group. I played the song all the way through while they got into
position. Since the song has a built in introduction, when I finished playing
the song through, I went back to the beginning to play the introduction again
since that's the first line of music. The chorister started singing with the
kids during the intro! I tore my eyes away from the music and quickly caught
his eye and shook my head. He stopped them and I finished the intro (thankfully
I didn't lose my spot or my cool when I looked up), and they started singing
again at the right time. Crisis: averted. Since the piano does not play the
melody during this song, it was a bit nerve wracking when the kids and teachers
sang their two parts together. I stuck to the tempo and was even able to enjoy
the complexity of the three lines of music (piano part, teacher part, kid part)
weaving together. Whew, that song can be a beast! We held it together, though,
and it sounded good from my piano perch.
The program ended with I am a
Child of God. The kids sang the first verse, then the congregation joined in
for the last two verses. I pounded the keys as hard and loudly as I could to
keep up with the volume of 150+ voices, and reveled in the heady rush of
providing music for the entire ward singing together. Before my piano calling,
I never appreciated how unifying it is to sing together, and what a privilege
it is for the pianist (or organist) to be the glue that holds the group song
together. The feeling is hard to describe, but it's unique and happy! With
piano playing, I am slowly learning to find enjoyment in the midst of (and in
spite of) tension and anxiety.
I took videos of Jay, Rose, and
Amber saying their parts before church, and Amber surprised me by saying the
first sentence of her part without a reminder! She has never done that in all
of the weeks we've reviewed her part. Amber does not perform on demand. She
needed assistance to say her part during the actual program, but I was
reassured to discover that she had at least been paying attention to all of my
attempts to teach her those two lines.
Amber: "Heavenly Father's plan
is for our happiness. I will be happy when I follow God's plan."
When Rose got up to say her part
in church, she spoke in a small quiet voice (normally Rose is so loud and
confident!), but she said each word slowly and clearly. After a few exuberant
rushed recitations at home, I had explained to Rose about speaking so people
understand the words rather than speaking as fast as possible. In her classic
intense Rose way, she embraced the advice and implemented it as precisely as
possible.
Rose: "Hearken ye unto my
words. Behold, I am Jesus Christ the Savior of the world. Doctrine and
Covenants 43:34."
Jay wrote his own part with
minimal parental guidance. Since it was a talk and not a few prescribed lines,
I did not hound him to memorize his words. I sure don't memorize my church
talks! He read it carefully off of his crumpled handwritten paper and it was
sweet. The question/writing prompt for his talk was a little confusing:
"how does your testimony help you know you are a child of God?" I
wondered if we should have encouraged him to dig a little deeper while writing
it, but he did it himself and it's hard to figure out how much to interfere
when coaching kids to do things for themselves!
Jay: "If you have faith and
a strong testimony, that will increase your faith that you are a child of God.
When I was getting baptized I felt the spirit around me because I have a strong
testimony and I knew that I was a child of God. I believe that my testimony
strengthens my faith in God."
My sweet kids. The primary program
is not easy for anyone, but we all survived!
Exactly one year ago, on the day
of the 2017 primary program, I was called as the new primary pianist. I was
raw, totally inexperienced, hadn't practiced piano regularly in well over a
decade, and utterly terrified. As I sat playing smoothly through the primary
program today, a few times my mind's eye zoomed out and I saw the Lord's hand
in my piano playing over the past year. I also saw the painful beauty of the
uphill struggle and the endless hours of practicing I put in to get to this
point. It is humbling to dig in, put in the work, and see both the results of
my hard work and the divine assistance given little by little along the way. I
keep reflecting on the process and marveling at it. Spiritual progress is hard
to mark, but when a physical task like piano playing is given as a spiritual
assignment (aka a church calling), the spiritual growth can be tracked right
alongside the physical improvements. It was such a nifty, singular experience!
My sister took pictures for us
back in July, and I have been hoarding them close to my bosom ever since.
This is my piano. I will not be touching it this week.
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