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We’re one step closer toward closure here in St. Louis. The house has a contract on it. Over the past day I’ve been doing more packing and as I am surrounded by the boxes and the half-packed clutter, I am overcome with waves of gratitude. This house has been such an important part of my life over the past 2 years. Buying it was one of the most important choices I have made. It has grounded me and grown me in ways that I can’t exactly express.
- It has been a cozy, warm place that has given expression to my values, interests and loves.
- There have been friends coming and going, glasses of wine on the porch, conversations over the fence with my neighbors.
- There has been a garden in the backyard. I cherish memories of last summer’s madly growing tomatoes and the ongoing war with the brazen city squirrels who always got the best ones just before they were picked.
- There has been a cat in the house, whose growing affection and playfulness has been a source of comfort and delight.
- There has been peace with being alone – something that I have rarely experienced in my life. And I have not felt a need to fill the house up with stuff, but have taken from here and there, received special pieces, hand-me-downs and recycled treasures from friends.
- There has been a piano here, a gift from my dear friend, Cade, who passed away last March. And with it came a space to enjoy playing just for myself again, to stay up as late as I wanted lingering over Chopin, Bach and my own compositions.
In so many ways it is difficult to leave this place but I believe that this lovely house on Hartford Street will continue to bless its inhabitants. God brought me here for a reason and in this transition, I do not want to negate or minimize the tremendous sense of blessing that I have felt, the sense that I have been in the right place at the right time. So, I want to claim a moment of thanks to the God who has been with me in this house and who will be with me in the houses (and/or closet-sized Manhattan apartments) to come!
“O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast and our eternal home.”
Over the past seven years I have regularly moved from one apartment to another, and finally from an apartment to a house. But my job has been a constant. Yesterday was my last day at Trinity and when I head off to New York next Wednesday, everything changes! Yikes!
In a final meeting with my spiritual director this morning, we talked about this transition; not necessarily how to manage it, but how to approach it with expectancy, with the hope that God can and will bring new perspective through this time. As we talked, I had an instinctive sense that I need to journal and blog more regularly in the next three weeks. Not only do I need some sort of regular spiritual discipline but this blog has been a great way to think out loud and to give my sometimes chaotic thoughts a sort of structure. So, I invite you into to walk through this transition with me and also welcome your feedback and prayers as I travel.
Packing over the last week was a strange experience. The amount of work-related stuff that I own (books, scores, and other material objects) has more than doubled since I arrived here after graduate school. And as I put it into boxes, sometimes lingering over an object or a piece that brought back a lovely memory, I realized that the sort of work we do in the church is very hard to describe and often misunderstood, especially in comparison to the business world. I have been a manager in some sense, with responsibility for the quality and the culture of the music program. I have been a service provider in some sense. But to me those words seem to cheapen the spiritual aspects of this work. They do not adequately describe the deep web of relationships that have connected me to this particular congregation and to this larger entity called the Church.
Serving as a church musician has not ultimately been about maintaining or attracting “customers” through a particular musical style, or even about greater efficiency, productivity or growth as good as those things might be. But in my particular case it has been about creating a sacred space for worship to happen (a time that Marva Dawn defiantly calls a “royal waste of time” – so much for productivity!). It has meant facilitating conversations with and between people who often have very different preferences and needs but who love the same God. It has been a call to nurture, challenge and care for a congregation through sensitive musical choices. It has asked me to fully welcome the musical gifts of all God’s children, regardless of skill, age or experience.
These things cannot happen without connection. It means careful listening, discernment, and taking others’ thoughts, ideas, critique, joys, hurts and needs seriously. And these relationships run very deep. Yesterday was not just a day to wrap up all the details and turn in the keys so that I can simply walk into a new congregation and start from scratch. But in some way beautiful way I bring all of these relationships with me as I go. I cannot (and at this point don’t want to) easily untangle myself from the beautiful and deep threads that have connected me to Trinity over the past seven years.
This past Sunday, I was blessed to have a sermon preached in honor of my ministry at Trinity Presbyterian Church. It was an amazing gift and I am so grateful to my pastor and friend, Dr. Dan Anderson-Little, who has been a constant source of creativity, energy and inspiration over the past seven years.
You can hear the sermon by clicking on the following link:
