Music, Teaching, Learning, and Life

My original plan was to post several essays about ornament memories and stories this season. However, time has passed with only a few days before Christmas, so this one post will have to suffice.

During recent years, my thoughts have turned frequently to life’s purpose. I’ve often trapped myself in never-ending comparisons to others. Time and again, though, I’m reminded of the value of every life, whether or not it is marked by notoriety or wealth. As I unpacked the family’s ornaments this year, I was reminded of some of those lives.

At first glance, you might think I’m writing about one of my daughters. My daughters are extremely important to me, but this particular ornament makes me think of the person in the red shirt holding my daughter.

Before we moved to the western suburbs of Chicago a few years ago, our family attended the same church for sixteen years. My husband and I had attended as college students and made the decision to continue there after we were married. Three years later, our oldest was born. The church has wonderful children’s programs, including a nursery for all services. Betty Ann worked in that nursery for more than 20 years, faithfully. Every year, she took pictures of her little charges and made ornaments for the parents, like the one you see above. (We had one for our youngest as well, but the dog destroyed it when she was a puppy.) Betty Ann’s faithfulness in loving our babies week after week, year after year, is what strikes me when I get to this ornament. Because of her reliability, countless parents were able to leave their children to worship “in peace” because Betty Ann’s familiar face was there almost every Sunday. I don’t remember what she did outside of church, what kind of job she had or the details of her family life, but I remember that Betty Ann loved my daughters.

The ornament to the left is one from my college days. During my years at Olivet Nazarene University, Bourbonnais, IL (now Chicago Bears training ground), I worked in the music department office a few hours each week. My boss, Norma, was extremely welcoming and helpful to me, a naive, shy “country girl.” She took me under her wing my freshman year, as I was 1000 miles from home. During my first September in the midwest, she and her husband took me and another student to the Chicago Jazz Festival in Grant Park. On that trip, I saw the rows of project housing lining I-94 North for the first time, the “magic lips” marking our exit home, and Lake Shore Drive. I also stood on the sidewalk beside the Sears’ Tower and peered up like any new tourist at its dizzying height. Later that year as the weather got colder, she presented me with my first pair of moon boots. (Why were the called moon boots??) She probably knew my family had limited funds to send in addition to what they were already contributing to my education.

By the way, it’s very difficult to stay focused on my topic with my comedian of a husband cracking jokes behind me…and explaining moon boots to me:) On with my story.

My junior year at Olivet, students dressed up for a Halloween event. I chose to dress up as the Statue of Liberty, replete with rolls and rolls of aluminum foil and a torch. That event lives in my memory because of the ornament. More importantly, the thoughtfulness of my mentor, Norma, who gave me the ornament, remains.

My final ornament memory for this season is contained in the picture to the right. My dear husband’s mother gave it to me after our first year of marriage. She taught me to sew that year. She was also one of the few people I’ve met in my life who was consistently cheerful, with the true heart of a servant. It sounds like the rosy recollections for someone gone two decades, but my memories of her are of laughter, encouragement, kindness, and selfless acts for others. She was full of conversation, taking an active interest in everyone around her. I also remember the moments of frustration she had during her last months. Our last holiday we saw her, December, 1989, she sewed her last piece: a white tux shirt Kevin needed for band. I’m certain she was in pain, but she kept at it until she finished. We still have that shirt.

I think often about the value of our individual lives. Even though the three people I’ve mentioned don’t have any claim to fame, their lives were invaluable to me.