Another piano report

Last night (Tuesday, December 18th), I played the piano at the baptism of two eight year old boys in our ward. It was the first baptism I have ever played piano for. I also played piano while a solo was sung during the service–another first. Wow, preparing and playing the piano for church meetings is such a refining experience. I am finding that I have always taken music at church for granted. Music is such an integral part of worship that it is understandably easy to take it for granted. No more. I now appreciate every single note that is played anywhere in any church event ever, and I hope I always do. As usual, preparing to play in front of people involved a fair amount of practicing, worrying, and praying.

While I was practicing piano last Wednesday morning (Dec 13th), two thoughts came to me:

Thought #1: Playing piano is a form of meditation. One part of me is busy and focused, but another part of me is free to explore and ponder and wonder.

Thought #2: Talents are useless unless we work to improve them. (Duhh, Shaina!) The parable of the talents has always been kind of misleading to me because the master gives a different number of talents/coins to each servant. I always assumed that I had just been given less “coins” when it came to skills like piano. The reality is that it doesn’t matter how many or how few talent coins we are given; we can’t use our talents at all unless we work to improve them and exercise them. Practice!

On Monday, December 17th (the day before the baptism) I practiced piano extra long, getting ready to play at the baptism. I attempted to fortify my brain to be strong and brave and not let myself get too irreversibly shaky-nervous. I said a prayer for peace and help before I practiced, and it went alright for the most part. I started feeling anxious while I was playing I’m Trying to be Like Jesus (the solo song). Then after playing it several times, I actually paid attention to the words instead of just the notes. The minute I did, I felt a tidal wave of love come over me. Practicing and practicing (and practicing) the piano to serve others is one way I am trying to be like Jesus right now, and I felt his love, peace, and appreciation while practicing on Monday.

Playing the piano is so humbling every single time. All of the mistakes I make while playing the piano show me over and over just how FAR away I am from being like Jesus. As I played on Monday, I had that sad little thought, but it was quickly followed by another distinct, comforting impression: trying our best is enough and it is all he asks of us. Why can I not seem to remember that for more than an hour at a time? I kept playing my imperfect way through I’m Trying to be Like Jesus and began to convince myself that it will be ok, even if I don’t play as well as I want to. Sigh. It’s been 15 months since I started playing the piano again and it is still teaching me and refining me–painfully sometimes, gently at other times.

On Tuesday, December 18th, Jeff, the kids, and I left home together at 6pm to drive around town looking at Christmas lights before heading over to the baptism. Amber was WILD CHILD extraordinaire for the duration of the baptism service, which began at her usual bedtime (7pm). But some things are worth staying up for. Easy for me to say–I wasn’t the one wrangling Amber for that hour! I had a nice cushioned burning hot seat up front next to the piano. But honestly, baptisms are such simple beautiful FAMILY events. I was honored and overwhelmed to be the pianist for this one.

Here’s how it went:

We arrived at the church around 6:35pm and found out that we would be meeting in the chapel instead of the Relief Society room so there would be enough seats. I was mentally prepared for the smaller room (aka smaller crowd), so my nerves got extra quaky all of a sudden and it took me a solid half hour to relax enough to avoid visibly trembling. And I thought that playing piano for the primary program had dulled my sense of abject terror of being on the stage in the chapel. Hah! In order to begin calming my panic, I went right to the piano in front of the chapel and started playing the songs I had prepared, working out the kinks and shakes while box breathing regularly. About ten minutes later, the soloist (Mandy–mother of one of the boys being baptized) was ready to run through her solo, so we slipped off to another room, where I played I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus for her while she sang. I stumbled in a few spots, but we stayed together and she sounded very good, so we returned to the chapel, where I continued to play prelude for another 10-15 minutes until the meeting began.

The opening song was a comfortable classic in my beloved key of C: I am a Child of God. It went fine, although I always feel like it drags a little near the end with the long notes in the chorus. I had two thoughts while I played I am a Child of God:

First shaky thought: “I am SO THANKFUL that this song is so easy to play! It’s a great way to soothe my tension here at the beginning while I’m still feeling shaky-scared.”

Second calmer thought, attributed to the spirit: “I am a Child of God is simple and easy for a reason! It is the most basic, important knowledge that every human can know, and the truths in the song are for EVERYONE, no matter their level of musical expertise (or lack thereof).” That was pure truth, spoken to my heart while I played notes and the room sang.

After the opening song, I slid off the piano bench to a chair to listen to an excellent talk about baptism, given by the 15 year old brother of one of the boys being baptized. After the two boys were baptized, I walked straight back to the chapel and began playing the piano again, for about 12-15 minutes, while people slowly filtered in and sat back down, talking happily. From the cumulative noise, I realized that the room now had significantly more people than it did during the opening song–a suspicion confirmed by a quick glance out at the pews. Swallowing the thrill of panic that followed the realization, I played the songs slowly (I tend to rush the tempo when I’m nervous) and played all of the verses of each song to draw them out as long as possible. Even with that slow effort, I fit quite a few songs into the interlude, stumbling here and there but surviving.

Eventually it was time for The Solo. Oh boy. The room went silent, waiting for ME to make noise on the piano. Silence is so precious, I always dislike breaking it. I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer for help and peace while the sweet soloist took her place at the microphone. My prayer was answered. The entire time I played during the solo, I FELT the help of the spirit, aiming my fingers at the right keys and keeping my trembling to a manageable level. All of the other times I played that song, during prelude, practicing with Mandy, during interlude, and even at home, I fumbled in several places. But during the performance, I hit the right notes and stayed on track. Every time I played smoothly through a trouble zone, I felt that extra rush of peace, love, and gratitude for the real-time divine assistance that I was receiving. Mandy sang beautifully even though her throat was feeling sore. The whole thing worked well, and the song was a meaningful musical testimony. I did experience a bit of tunnel vision: everything else faded except me, the music, and the singer, but it served to help me focus and my tight-strung nerves couldn’t break through the tunnel.

There is something simultaneously humbling, uplifting, and profound about two normal people working together, trying our best to help others feel the spirit through music. The words of the song I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus made our efforts extra relevant, because that’s what we were doing in that moment: trying to be like Jesus by trying to inspire a room full of people to be like Jesus too.

After the last few speakers, it was time for the closing song: I Belong to the Church of Jesus Christ. I didn’t play it as smoothly as the other songs that night, but I kept up just fine. The chapel was so full of people by this point that I really had to pound on the piano to even make any kind of musical impression behind the singing. Our stake president always asks us to sing that song with gusto and vigor, so everyone stood to sing, and they did the joyful declarations in that song justice, singing loud and strong.

Then it was time for 4-5 songs of postlude music while the chapel slowly cleared. I survived! I went limp with relief, except for a fist-sized knot of tension in my stomach that wouldn’t dissolve until I was at home alone, decompressing from the emotional rigors of the evening. Ever since last night, I have been marveling at how much I learn every time I work to do something scary at church. Some forms of service are comfortable, like visiting a friend. Other forms are downright terrifying, like being responsible for the music at an hour-long baptismal service. I thought I had seen the biggest example I’d ever see of God’s hand in my personal life during my debilitating pregnancy with Amber, but playing piano at church has been another huge, completely different, beautiful, painful, astounding testimony of his presence and his willingness to help me both physically and mentally when I need it most.

The scripture about treasuring up the words of truth and you will be given in the very hour what you should say came to my mind while I played at the baptism. I just looked it up and my brain seems to have combined two scriptures:

“But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak: for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you.” (Matthew 10:19-20)

“Treasure up in your minds continually the words of life, and it shall be given you in the very hour that portion that shall be meted unto every man.” (D&C 84:84)

I thought “that applies to piano practicing too. I practiced and practiced these songs, “treasured them up,” and felt ok about them, but performance nerves always make me feel unable to rely on myself to play well. But with several terrified pleading prayers and lots of deep box breathing, the notes were given to me in the very hour I needed them, because I had put the work in to learn and treasure them up as well as I could beforehand.

In spite of all of the refining and the learning and good feelings I had during this experience, I sure am relieved that another piano performance is DONE.

How about some calm pictures to keep that good feeling going?

Reading is calm.

Sleeping in a big box is calm. Amber slept in this big Amazon box for two nights in a row this week, funny girl.

Snuggling is calm.

I am calm. My next piano “performance” is still 3 days away: I’m playing two songs (seven verses) on Christmas Sunday in front of 200+ people while the kids sing. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I am calm.