Mandatory Music Lessons?

February 22nd, 2011

mandatory-music-lessonsI’m trying to decide whether my 10-year-old son should take piano lessons or not. Let me start by saying that when I was a young teenager, my parents forced me to take piano lessons for two years. Two years of misery. Two years of doing something I was not good at, over and over again, willing my fingers to hit the right notes but failing. Pounding the notes louder and louder ’til I got in trouble. I hated those two years of mandatory music lessons. I’ve never played the piano since. Why would I? I was never any good at it.

But did I learn anything from it? Perhaps perseverance. But that can be learned in other ways. Did I learn how to harmonize? Yes. But maybe I learned that in the boarding school choir. Did I learn to read notes in case it was an emergency and I needed to play the piano? Sort of. Not really. And what exactly is an emergency? Ever since I was a teenager, I wanted to be a missionary, and I envisioned myself in some rural village, married to a preacher who needed me to play the piano. But in what fantasy world would there be a piano in the middle of a poor rural village? And why couldn’t we sing a cappella? Voices with no instruments sound beautiful to me, more worshipful.

So would I ever be in a situation where it was mandatory to play an instrument? Now that I have entered middle age, I can confidently say no. The vast majority of the population never takes instrument lessons, and they’re not less smart. I don’t know why we as homeschool parents feel that if every single student of ours doesn’t take instrument lessons, they will end up being worse for it. What if they ended up using that same amount of time doing something they were good at, that would allow them to earn a scholarship to college? Or maybe they would just have a nicer life, not having something they despised in it.

Years ago when my oldest son was only six years old, I found a book that promised to teach you to play the piano in one afternoon. I used that to teach my children piano lessons. I had a small toy piano that was wooden. I got some cardboard and glued black felt to it. With chalk, I marked the music bars. I sprayed it with hair spray to keep it in place. Then I nailed it to the wall above the tiny piano. I made cream-colored felt notes, and I would place them in different places and ask my children which note it was. They learned to read notes. They learned the major chords. It took one month. I hated teaching it. It was the first time I hated teaching my kids. It was because my oldest son would throw a fit because he didn’t get the notes right the first time. He would scream and be frustrated and hit the piano. I was exhausted.

Yes, I see this situation as poetic irony, but I’ll move on.

My second son was only five years old, but he played the notes confidently the first time, with no instruction. It was such a joy to teach him music. My third son was three. He played the notes over and over until he got them right. He never got frustrated.

My second son, who was a natural, always had an affinity to playing the guitar. He would intently watch the worship leader’s fingers as he played the guitar. Finally after praying about it for years, we finally had enough money to buy him a guitar when he turned eight. We’ve paid for music lessons, and they’ve been worth it. He’s advancing quickly. He can tell if his guitar is out of tune. (I can’t.) He’s a natural. I don’t mind throwing my money at something that God obviously gave him as a gift.

Okay, now comes the story of my oldest son. His mind is incredible. He’s going to be a mechanical engineer. He is an artist, too. He has a mathematical mind. He likes talking philosophically. But at church he sings loudly, completely off key. He has no pitch, and you remember how those simple piano lessons were like pulling teeth. I hesitate to give this boy piano lessons. Money is tight. Why waste the money and produce misery?

Another thing to keep in mind is that I prayed years ago that whenever God wanted me to pay for piano lessons for my oldest son, that God would give us a piano for free. Then I would know. I was so confident that this would never happen that I felt relieved that I didn’t have to think about it any more.

Until this Christmas, that is. Our in-laws got us an electronic keyboard. I panicked briefly, looked up at God, and asked him if that counted as a piano? I still don’t have my answer. To complicate matters, my oldest son thinks he wants to take piano lessons. I know that learning piano is supposed to be good for your mind, but so are a lot of other activities that might be more productive. Please comment below and tell me your opinion as to what I should do. I just feel that the decision needs to be made now, because when my son is in high school, he will have way more subjects to study, possible apprenticeships, part time jobs, and other interesting things. In my mind, it’s now or never.

The Story is in the Wallet

February 21st, 2011

wallet

Before I send my daughter off to college, I will teach her a trick that will save her a lot of heartache. I’m sure that at first you’ll gasp at what I did back when I was in my mid-twenties and I had no potential suitors. Men were asking me out every week, and I wanted a quick way to weed out the losers.

I riffled through their wallets.

But I had their full permission. How did I get permission? By now you know me well enough that you should know I never pulled their wallet out of their back pocket. Oh, no. I never let them get that close. I waited until he paid for dinner. When his wallet was out, I asked if I could see his wallet.

What made the man say yes? (I never had a man say no.) To diffuse the awkward situation, smile sweetly and make your eyes dance. Say please if you have to. He will take it as flirtation. Since he asked you out, he’s obviously interested in you. Let this give you the confidence you need to pull this off.

Once he hands you the wallet, be quick about it. You’re looking for three things:

  1. A picture of a girl. This is a sure indication that he’s not ready to move on. He’s still in love with that person, even if he denies it. If the man tells you it’s his sister, he’s a liar. No one keeps a picture of his sister in his back pocket.
  2. A condom. If I saw a condom, the date was over. He didn’t care about my purity.
  3. Number of credit cards. If he has 10 credit cards, this indicates that he’s bad with money. One or two is ideal. Amount of cash is no indication of character. Sometimes more cash indicates that he uses cash rather than credit to buy things, which indicates good money sense.

Scripture tells us to be wise as serpents, innocent as doves. I’m telling you this to help your daughters preserve their purity and not get their hearts broken. Do you actually want your daughter to walk into a room alone, with a man who has a condom in his pocket? Didn’t think so.

My Baby Dragon

February 16th, 2011

my-baby-dragonTen years ago, when my oldest son was only 7 months old, I decided to fly to England with him. I had found a dirt cheap plane ticket. (I think it was only $400 round trip, because it was February, and all the planes were empty. Plus, I stayed with a friend, so lodging was free. She even came to pick me up from the airport.) The baby flew for free, since he was considered a “lap baby.” My husband had to work, and he wanted to hold up his end of the bargain. You see, before we got married, I told him I wanted to live the rest of my life in England. He said, “Choose a state, any state, as long as it’s the United States of America.” I initially chose Texas because my best friend lived there, but after I put him through college, I wanted to find a state that looked more like England. That’s why we live in Washington. But one of my requests before we got married was for him to let me go back to England every once in a while.

I weaned the baby to prepare for the trip; otherwise I would be in pain, since the time difference is so huge. Plus, I didn’t want to nurse the baby in public, and I would be on the plane for 12 hours, making it impossible not to feed the baby while on the plane. The only place for privacy in the airplane is the bathroom, and it’s so tiny and unsanitary (because turbulence causes spills; you can be sure of that!)

my-baby-dragon-2I was going to be gone for 7 days, and I bought baby food jars for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I spread them out on the floor and separated them by days, making sure that the meals were well-balanced. I saw that fruit was represented each day, as well as vegetables, and that the dinner one had enough carbohydrates to enable his stomach to make it to morning time. I wrapped each jar in brown paper, labeling each one with a black Sharpie marker. “Day one: Breakfast: Oatmeal with blueberries.” And so on.

In the airplane, I opened the first jar. A man behind me looked at me in an amused fashion, asking me if he could please show his wife one of my neatly labeled baby food jars. I handed one to him, and the couple had a good laugh. They were obviously not first-time parents like I was. Now, looking back, I could have easily made food in England. Like I could have mashed a banana or whatever. But since I only had one week there, I didn’t want to waste time going to the grocery store.

The baby was sleeping soundly on the airplane, in his carrier by my feet. I was located at the front of the economy section, where there is more leg room. I was so happy because if the baby slept during the entire flight, his body clock would be perfect when we landed. But no… The stewardess forced me to wake up the baby, unstrap him from his carrier, and hold him on my lap. The turbulence was so tiny, I could barely feel it. I begged her to please let my baby sleep, but she didn’t care. As a result, my baby was “off” for days while we were in England, wide awake in the middle of the night. It was a nightmare because of the decision of that stewardess.

I took a backpack carrier and put by baby in there as we walked around London, visiting old haunts. Just seeing England again gave me such a feeling of elation. I feel different when I’m in England, almost like I’m in a fairy tale with castles and thatched cottages in the countryside. It was wonderful, even in my cloudy state of exhaustion due to the baby not sleeping properly.

We went to a castle, and I dressed my son up in the little dragon costume I had brought. I had a picture taken of me in front of the castle, holding my baby dragon.

My Husband is a Man of God

February 15th, 2011

my-husband-is-a-man-of-GodI would like to modify one thing about my love story, just to set things right, so that people don’t have a bad opinion about my husband. Even though Alan might have spent a few weeks living out of his car, he was never a bum. He was always a man of integrity, and he led me closer to Christ, even while living out of his car. For example, I felt like I was a piece of dirt, and I wanted to die. He parked his car, opened the Word of God, and spoke to me for hours about my identity in Christ. He spoke from Romans 6, 7, and 8. What he said just that one night changed my life. Never mind all the other times we talked about God. I still have tiny notes all over my Bible. What he was saying was true. Having grown up as a missionary kid, I had spent thousands of hours in the Word of God (voluntarily as well as in classes). I knew and had studied the Word of God deeply on a daily basis for years.

What I’m saying is, he was the strong one. He led me spiritually, even then. He was physically pure when I married him, and that mattered to me. His love for me was real, not some stupid fantasy that other men had of me when I knew that they didn’t really know me. I dated many guys (just one time each) from the churches I attended over the years. No one compared to Alan, not even a little. He was head and shoulders above the rest and blew them all out of the water. I kept trying to move on when I knew he was interested in someone else and not me, but I never really was satisfied with anyone else.

I just want to say that he has been a great husband. I thought my life halted and came to a ruined standstill after being raped by a complete stranger who stalked me and wore a mask. Even though both my husband and I were pure on our wedding night (because the rape didn’t count), we were both punished for the sins of another man. All I wanted to do was make love to my new husband, but what with the excruciating pain and the flashbacks, we went though hell together. Some day I will write a book about how God healed me on every level of my being. (It will be my magnum opus, my greatest contribution to the world. My conversations with God alone were incredible. My testimony has led to the healing of many rape victims.) But honestly, if it weren’t for Alan, I don’t know where I’d be today. He is my life, my love, my everything. Besides God, I mean.

I just wanted to write a tribute to my husband, and proclaim to the world that he is not a bum and never was. I knew his heart was gold, and I was right.

Just a couple of years ago our church did a marriage class. We were supposed to write down three things that bugged us the most about our spouse. I thought long and hard, and I couldn’t think of anything. There was a lot of quiet time where everyone was writing stuff down. After giving Alan plenty of time, I leaned over and asked him what he wrote. He backed up and showed me a blank page. He said he couldn’t think of anything bad about me.

I’m just going to let that sink in for a minute…

I told him that I couldn’t think of anything bad about him either. Do you realize what this means? This is absolutely staggering, but get this: We have an ideal marriage. And I don’t take it for granted. It was forged through intense fire, many times. Everyone who knows me covets my marriage, or wishes that their marriage was even half as good. I fall on my face before God, and I truly, truly thank God for the incredible husband that He has given me.