Just Kids

It is a sweet season for us.

The kids are in that beautiful stage between babydom and teendom--all five of them are.  Isaiah is starting to shun his high chair in favor of sitting on a big stool with the big kids.  They sit lined up at the counter, waiting for their pancakes.  Bop, bop, bop, bop, bop.  Sometimes even in age order.  No one is pining over unrequited love.  No one is collicky or teething.  No one is burdened with undue stress, with sin, or even with any great health challenges.  They tease each other and laugh over secret jokes.  They make messes and even help clean them up a little.  They read books about fairies or dragons, respectively.  They talk about animals, about the latest Studio C episode, and about adventures with mutual friends.  And after our meals, they often run out the front door and ride bikes and scooters around the circle together.  They are happy. They are friends.  And for the time being, they belong almost exclusively to TJ and me.

Has any mother ever been so blessed?  

Mozart's Requiem

I love Mozart so much.  And there is no single piece of music I love more than his Requiem.  I grew up watching Amadeus with my family at least once a year--Dad said we could watch it on the last day of school because he knew there was no chance we could be depressed by it on our happiest day.  I did not realize that the notes and lines of Requiem were being woven into the fabric of my soul at that early age, but when I sang the Requiem in college it felt just like coming home.  (Does "fabric of my soul" seem a little much? Sorry, I get really excited.)

Norm Lister, who leads our community choir, said tonight that, at the age of 67, this year was his first opportunity of singing the entire Requiem.  Lucky me!  It was my second opportunity!  And it has been so glorious.  We performed last Saturday in the Cox (where I sang it the first time, fifteen years ago) in conjunction with the Dixie College Choirs and Orchestra.  It was truly a joyous day for me.

But the best part about all of this is that for the past five weeks, I've had Mozart continually running through my head.  You see, I bought the CD in college and listened to it ad infinitam until I fairly had it memorized.  I still can sing long passages from memory, and the solo passages play like heavenly music in my mind.  It has been a joy to be so pleasantly haunted by one of the greatest minds this world has ever known.  

Valentine's Day hike to heart arch.

Valentine Bouquets

TJ's Valentine's flowers for me.  Mom gave me the vase years ago, and it has sat unoccupied in my room all that time.  I'm glad to have such a worthy home for such lovely flowers!

My Valentine's flowers for TJ: bacon roses!

Morning Gratitude

I'm on my knees in the dark of the morning, trying to squeeze in a morning prayer before the boys find me.  I can hear that Isaiah is waking up sad, and needs either a banana or a hug from me.  His cries come closer to the bedroom door, and soon his pitiful wail accompanies his tiny-fisted knocking.  I crawl to the door and meet his eyes.  I can't resist a hug and kiss, but then I am firm:  "Isaiah, I need to pray.  Go get a banana and I'll be in in a minute."  He is reluctant, and here comes Paul in his wake.  Maybe my prayer will have to wait. But Paul puts an arm around his little brother, with and says with tenderness and older-brother wisdom, "Isaiah, come with me and I'll get you a banana.  Mama needs to pray."  Isaiah lets Paul lead him back down the hall toward the kitchen, his arm still draped over his shoulder.  And I kneel again by the bedside and start with gratitude for loving brothers.   

Messiah

I fell in love with Handel's Messiah when I was in college.  Our choir joined the Southwest Chorale and Symphony under the joint direction of Dr. Kim and Dr. Caldwell, and the grandeur and majesty of the oratorio changed Christmas for me forever.  Since then, no Christmas has been complete without it: we did Messiah sing-ins at BYU, we soloed with Evanston's production, and on years when there was no formal performance for us, we sang along with the CDs.

Coming back to St. George meant coming back to the Southwest Chorale's production of Messiah.  TJ has soloed for the last two years, and I've been in the choir.  And I have to say, the sense of homecoming couldn't be more beautifully complete.  Dr. Kim is gone, but Dr. Caldwell still conducts.  Since he was also my Symphonic Band teacher (and a great one), it is a great thrill performing under his baton again.  And since he still has a knack for making each student feel like his personal favorite, TJ and I both just bask in the glow.

The only thing that could possibly be better than singing about the Savior's birth is singing about the Savior's birth full blast!  Forty-five minutes into the oratorio, your voice is nice and warm, your diaphragm is bouncy, and your vocal and dynamic range is through the roof--and then all those lovely choruses are lined up like desserts on a buffet.  Nothing could keep me away from such a musical treat.  Indeed, I spent all Monday in bed with a stomach flu, and wasn't even sure I'd be able to stand through the whole performance, but I wiggled into my concert black anyway and went.  I was a little short of breath and a teeny bit woozy, but it was absolutely worth it.  Definitely the musical highlight of the year.

TJ's solo was beautiful, although he wasn't entirely thrilled with it.  The Trumpet Shall Sound is an absolutely magnificent duet between solo trumpet and the soloist, and they both did beautifully.  In the words of Kaye Hinton "it thrilled us to our toes!"  I was so proud of him!

Les Miserables

I fell in love with the music of Les Miserables just out of high school, fell in love with the book after my oldest child was born, and was the proud mother of three before I actually saw it on the stage.  That was a red-letter day for me, and I thought nothing would ever compare with the joy of experiencing my favorite play at the Pioneer Theater Company.  I had low expectations last year when I went to see the film--after all, they had opted for big-name actors over experienced musicians.  I was joyfully surprised, however.  The cast of the film version not only did full justice to the grandeur of the story, but to humanity itself.  

It was with some reticence that I attended Hurricane Valley Community Theater's production of the play last night, but since TJ had a student in the production it was a labor of love.  I knew that our friend Brodie Perry, who was playing Jean Valjean, would be amazing.  He was singing with the Utah Opera while he was still in high school with me, and he hasn't wasted his time since then.  I think he could perform on Broadway if he wanted to, and as proud as we all are that he is here instead, I did not know that St. George boasted more than one or two on his professional level.  I was dead wrong.  All the leads were phenomenal, and all the chorus were extremely strong singers and actors.  

"Community theater" has always brought to my mind subpar productions funded and attended by those of us who want to "support the arts."  I have never thought of this venue being one that could hold intrinsic entertainment value.  But the professionalism HVCT showed in this production filled me with joy and hope.  St. George has a great theater company!  And why not?  It was the last thing, in my opinion, that we needed to make this town quite perfect.  

But the true joy of the evening was the fact that the cast brought more to the performance than sparkling talent and hard-earned skills.  They understood the meaning of the play and cared passionately about it. Their hearts shone through every scene of the performance.  Brodie's performance was technically impeccable to start with--his voice was flawless, powerful, and tender; his acting was consistent, heartfelt, and masterful--but most of all he put every ounce of energy into his character.  I had tears running down my cheeks as the cast took their bows, and so did they.  I had a wonderful feeling that I was watching history in the making.