May 10, 2010

Another chapter of Karen's writings

I'm sorry for the extra messages you received in my attempt to upload a chapter of Karen's writings about the things she placed into God's hands. This latest one is about her placing her flute on a shelf when it and her love of music threatened to become more important to her then her Lord. For your sake I have edited her 6 pages down to 3, most of it information overload.

Yesterday, Mother's Day, marked 17 months since Karen left for heaven, and today marks 5 years since we left the Philippines. God's grace has been a part of every day and has always sufficient.

Posted by David at 1:19 PM

Father I place my love of music in your hands

Father, I place into Your hands my love of music

While I was a student at All Nations Christian College in England I knew I had to place my flute ‘on the altar’ as Abraham had placed his son Isaac there. I can’t explain exactly how I knew that’s what God was asking me to do, but I guess I understood that I was in danger of letting music be an idol to me, a god rivaling my loyalty to the Lord Jesus. So I put my flute up in the top of my cupboard and only took it down if someone asked me to play for morning worship.

How had music come to have such a valued place in my life? I’d grown up with music being as much a part of life as breathing. My grandfather played the violin, my mother was a music teacher and played violin, viola, piano, trumpet, and taught vocal music as well. I was in the third grade when my grandmother arranged for me to start taking piano lessons. In fourth grade I tried playing the violin. And in fifth grade I started on the flute. My mother arranged for me to have lessons with professional musicians from my home town who worked with me on basics. From them I learned a lot about embouchure, diaphragm breathing, and how to produce a really good tone. One of these men was very overweight and his lips were so big that they covered the mouthpiece in a way mine never could, but I practiced hard to sound as much like him as possible. They also encouraged my mother to buy better a quality instrument than the old school flute I first had.

In high school I’d practice the flute for four hours a day. That was after my tutor showed us a beautiful new Haynes flute. I loved that instrument! I didn’t deserve to have such a good instrument, but my high school music teacher encouraged my mother to buy it for me if at all possible since he thought it was a really fine flute. It wasn’t at all like a school flute. It was a professional model, made of sterling silver. I loved the tone, the way it responded as I blew into it. I enjoyed being able to play such a beautiful instrument. Maybe that’s why it had to go on the altar.

I didn’t keep up with piano or violin, probably mostly because I was so stubborn and unwilling to learn from my mother. When I understood her to be “telling me what to do” on those instruments (which she played well) I didn’t want to listen. But soon I knew more about flute than she did. Then we got along fine! Going to the Summer Music Clinic at the University of Wisconsin at Madison helped me discover that I had lots more to learn! My first year there I was about 23rd chair! My second summer, I was second chair! There is a strong competitive streak in me and I needed to see that being first chair in our junior and senior high bands wasn’t that big an accomplishment. Challenging to be first chair at the Music Clinic, with good musicians from all over the state was the goal that kept me practicing.

The summer after my junior year in high school I auditioned for a music scholarship to the University of Wisconsin at Madison. I was so nervous when I did that audition. Even though I was one of the best flutists that summer, there were extremely talented musicians on a lot of other instruments, all competing for scholarships! I ended up being a runner up for a scholarship. Since I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go to such a huge university for my freshman and sophomore years, I was happy to be an alternate, thinking a scholarship might become available by my junior year.

I chose to go to Lawrence University, in Appleton, WI, mainly because they had a music conservatory and I knew I would be able to continue on in music. I was SO embarrassed when I got to the college and had to begin by taking a course called “Remedial Ear Training!” The name of the class made me feel like a fool needing remedial work. I knew that if I’d been more ready to learn from my mother, I could have started college knowing how to read and sing vocal music, sing intervals, etc. Looking back now, I realize that it was probably one of the most valuable music courses I had. I graduated with a degree in English Literature but had nearly as many credits in music as well.

When I moved to England in 1970 to work for Lawrence after graduating I spent nearly all my free time going to concerts, the opera and ballet. I also loved visiting churches when services were going on, so that I could hear the organ and choirs. I loved listening to music. My taste was very eclectic. I loved hearing a large orchestra, ensemble, opera, ballet, Gilbert and Sullivan, marching bands, even the Beatles! I also loved making music. I was able to take occasional flute lessons from one of the flutists in the London Philharmonic Orchestra and had my repertoire stretched through the variety of pieces and drills he had me work on. For a year or so I joined an evening class to play in a woodwind quintet which was good fun.

After coming into a personal faith relationship with the Lord during my third year in England, I gained a whole new perspective on music -that of worship. My first taste of combining my love of music, playing the flute, and worship was when I was able to play in the orchestra at All Souls Church in London. It was such a treat to play with that group. I found it hard to leave it when I moved away from London to study at All Nations Christian College! But there I began hearing and learning Scripture set to music.

The messages of many Bible passages are firmly embedded in my mind because I could sing them and memorize songs far more easily than passages of prose. It was a new and wonderful experience to link my longstanding love of music and playing the flute to Christian music, either accompanying worship or playing a descant.

But even with playing my flute in worship to the Lord, I knew that there was a danger of my love of music and my flute having a higher place in my life than my God. So I placed my flute on that top shelf on the back of my cupboard. I did not want anything to take priority over my devotion to Jesus. And there my flute stayed until the day I got the news that my father had died. In fact the day my brother phoned to tell me was the day of the funeral, so there was no way I could even consider going home for the funeral. That day I felt the Lord say to me that I could take out my flute, and play out my grief. I could express my feelings better with a flute in my hands than in any other way. And He gave me back the instrument to help me grieve and process the news. At no time since have I felt there was any question as to whether music mattered more to me than God. And as long as He is center stage in my life, music can continue to have a prominent place in my life. More and more the music I want to play is worship to Him.

It was only five months after my dad died that my mother passed away. I was able to return to Wisconsin to care for her in her last month here on earth. With her passing, the last link to my musical heritage passed away too. I remember how powerful and painful it was at a Christmas program at All Nations the first Christmas after my mother died. We had a Japanese student that year who was a gifted musician and well known singer in his own country. His English had a distinct Asian accent when he spoke, but when he sang he sounded just like Bing Crosby! He had a beautiful, deep, rich voice, but I sobbed all the way through his rendition of “The Holy City” because it brought back so many memories. My grandfather had the piece arranged for violin and Mom and I had played it as a duet. Hearing him sing brought to mind the two of us in front of the piano with Mom sitting on the piano bench and me standing to her right so that my flute wasn’t in her ear nor her bow in my eye! There he was singing, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem…” and tears were streaming down my cheeks at the flashback of beauty mixed with the pain of loss. And I was to speak later in the carol service! God collected those tears in a bottle. (Mine must hold gallons by now!)

Posted by David at 1:17 PM