A Little of This, a Little of That

Old Dog, New Trick

Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write: I know how to make sound panels for a recording studio. 

Not that it was ever on my bucket list, but when Jed asked our church tech team for volunteers to help stretch fabric over wooden frames and stuff them with Rockwool insulation, I thought “why not?” I watched the how-to video Jed sent and it didn’t look like rocket science. 

Turns out I’m good at it. Or at least fast. I cranked out five of those puppies in the time it took the group of us to finish a dozen. (If my five are the first to fall apart, we’ll never know, since they’re all identical.) They now hang in a room at PAC which will be used to create videos to use on the church website or for Sunday services.

So if the writing gig doesn’t work out, I have another option up my sleeve: professional sound panel builder. Now that I’m of an age where the world is no longer my oyster, it’s a comfort to possess skills which I’m sure are in high demand around here.

An Update on the Book

Since I announced that my novel finally found a publisher, some of you have asked about the process.

Okay, maybe one of you asked. 

I’m happy to say the first half of my advance has been deposited and partly spent. I’ve survived  a conference call with my acquisitions editor, Erin, in New York City and my developmental editor, Shari, in Oregon. Erin oversees the whole project while Shari is currently working with the manuscript and must return it to me by June 6 with suggested improvements regarding plot, character, and overall story. Right now I’ve no idea how intense those revisions might be, but I suspect there’ll be no time for making sound panels, attending concerts, cutting grass, or any other such frivolity for the three weeks they give me to rewrite and return it. 

After that, we do one more quick back-and-forth before it goes on to a copy editor and a line editor who go over it with fine tooth combs. Then the marketing people do their thing with cover design and promotions, gearing up to release it in January. It’s quite the process and I’m finding it fascinating, exciting, and still pretty unbelievable.

Thanks for asking!

A Word for Teachers

I attended an excellent spring concert at WestparkSchool last week—my, but Portage is home to a lot of talented young people! I’ll never know where a music teacher begins to teach students a song when it’s strictly percussion—I think I counted over 25 drums, trash cans, and other things that can be beat upon—but it was thrilling to hear and see. Well done, Tyson Anderson! 

Teachers of all stripes, you amaze me. With June here, you are no doubt counting the days. If I can give you a word of encouragement to help you through your last month, it’s this: please don’t simply hang in there during this crazy time. Sometimes it takes only one comment from a respected teacher to change the course of a student’s life forever. Even if you have only 15 days left with your students, ask yourself how many life-giving comments can be uttered in the span of 15 days. Make them count. One day you will see the impact you made, and you’ll be glad you resisted the temptation to check out early. 

And whatever they pay you, it’s not enough. If I ruled the world, rock stars and teachers would trade salaries. God bless you!

It Takes a Village

Jon and I walked through the door labeled “Parenthood” in our early twenties, having been married three years and seeing it as the next logical and casual step. If we could have had the thirty years’ worth of hindsight we have now, we might have chickened out altogether (I’m glad we didn’t), or at least entered parenthood appropriately shaking in our boots. I don’t think we realized our own inadequacy or the solemn responsibility of keeping another human being alive—let alone teaching them all they need to know to become independent, law-abiding citizens.

In retrospect, we appreciate not only how immense the task, but how valuable the treasure of other adults’ involvement in our kids’ lives. Where would we be were it not for grandparents, aunts, and uncles willing to step in for baby-sitting duty in those early years when a short break for a date or a nap felt like the difference between life and death? Where would we be without Sunday School volunteers who reinforced the lessons we felt ill equipped to teach? Without the teachers and coaches who put in untold hours of paid and unpaid time, building into our kids? Without youth leaders during the years when we parents were the stupidest people on earth? Without other parents who welcomed our noisy and messy kids into their homes, demonstrating healthy relationships in the midst of normal family conflicts and chaotic schedules? We’ll never know the full impact others have made, but we are eternally grateful for it.

Several years ago, I accepted the opportunity to influence 16 high school students by teaching their drama class. With three teachers in my family and a passion for all things theatrical, you’d think this would have been a natural fit. Not so. Frankly, teenagers frightened, annoyed, and bewildered me. But others were investing in my kids. Perhaps God was nudging me to do the same by sharing some of the knowledge He’d granted me over the years.

Two months in, I not only felt frightened, annoyed, and bewildered, but I could add frustrated, impatient, and tired to the list. 

But a strange thing had happened. I began to care about these kids! In addition to making me tear my hair out, they made me laugh. Along with their noisy nonsense, they demonstrated incredible creativity. My prayers evolved from “God, help me!” to genuine prayers for their needs.

Near the end of the year, I received a note from one of the students who seemed least interested. It said, “Thank you for telling me that I can do it! Yes, in the end I did do it. I’m glad I was put up on stage. It helped me out a lot. Thanx.”

Who’da thunk it? I had actually influenced a young person for good! Perhaps the biggest accomplishment was, along with the relief when the dismissal bell rang each day, I gained a new appreciation for full-time teachers and all they invested in the lives of these and my own kids.

Working with youth will never be my number one gift, but I am confident of two things: first, every one of us can make at least a small investment in our greatest natural resource—our children. Second, it really does take a village to raise a child.

Teachers, as you prepare for a new school year, may you feel the support of that village in every way required. God bless you!

Part of the village that helped raise me.

Of Mice and... Teachers

Riddle: What’s furry, 30 years old, and sits on a shelf above my writing desk observing every word I type?

I’ll give you a really big hint.

If you happened to be part of Portage Alliance Church between 1983 and 1988, you may remember a rather large but harmless rodent named Charlie Churchmouse. He spoke with a Texas drawl and started every conversation with “Howdy there, Buckaroos.” 

Charlie is a hand puppet fashioned under my sewing machine and brought to life on my right hand. He used to interact with kids and adults alike, mostly on Sunday evenings when it was safest for church mice to be out and about. In his retirement, he perches on a weighted jar and remains silent except for rare occasions when he decides to chat with my grandsons. He’s still pretty cute, for a 30-year old mouse.

With 130 children on any given Sunday, there are now more volunteers serving in my church’s children’s ministry than there were people in the entire congregation 30 years ago. I am thankful for and proud of these folks who give their time and energy to build into the next generation.

I wonder how challenging it would be to entertain a roomful of today’s children with one homemade hand puppet. Kids are constantly exposed to a barrage of digital moving images, sound effects, and interactive everything. The books I read to my grandsons at their house are never merely books. Each page includes something to hear or to pull or push or feel or smell. I don’t envy today’s teachers—whether at school, church, or elsewhere—who need to compete with all the distracting gadgetry. I suppose much of it serves as useful resources as well. I hope so.

Recently, I heard the leader of PAC Kids’ ministry coaching his volunteers on a Sunday morning before the children arrived. He reminded them their curriculum is only a tool, not something to get through at any cost. If a child returns home able to name one thing he or she learned and saying “I had fun,” the hour together was a success. The most important thing is the relationships built, so kids receive loving and wise guidance from a trusted friend. 

And it occurred to me that relationships are best built with no gadgets at all. 

Carl Jung said, “One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.”

As we end another school and church ministry year, I want to say thank you to teachers everywhere. After parenting, yours is the most important job in the universe. If you are one who truly loves and cares about the children in your charge, you not only deserve the summer off, you need it. May the next two months refresh and reenergize you. And if, like Charlie Churchmouse, your tenure is over—congratulations! 

I love something Andy Rooney once said: “Most of us end up with no more than five or six people who remember us. Teachers have thousands of people who remember them for the rest of their lives.”

But don’t put away your hand puppets just yet.