World Premiere

Music is better heard than described with words, but since the recital I attended featured two world premiers, they can't yet be found on youtube. Who knows if they will ever be of internet fame. Then again, maybe that is not the desire of these students. For this particular concert Erik Rohde, a doctoral student in orchestral conducting, was happy to conduct the university orchestra and a hodge-podge sixteen-member choral who had all rehearsed together two times.

The first piece was a viola concerto, Knowing the River, composed by Jacob Tews, a viola doctoral student. From one of the women who sang in the choral I learned the score had 1184 measures, 148 time signature changes and 14 key changes. From the first notes I knew that this was a modern piece. It was filled with dissonance. At times during the first act I felt like I was listening to noise. Yet that noise fit with the texts being sung.
   ...The jester of Discordance now leads the footsteps...
   Cuts from the harsh thorns 
   are met by increasing fierceness 
   mixed with a secret fear: 
   This place is suitable for me, 
   as empty and dark as the secrets of my soul...

In the second act the dissonance lessened and things began to resolve a bit.
   ...Contentment and peace, hitherto elusive,
   now fill my mind, my lips, and my being with your praise.
   Swaying. Staying. Praying in your presence.
   Shall I dance?

The third act depicted uncontainable laughter, spontaneous childlikeness, and a kaleidoscope of joys. And at the end, finally in a major key with more pleasing harmonies, it declared:
   Behold! I tell you a mystery.
   We shall not all sleep,
   but we shall all be changed...
   Then shall come to pass
   the saying that is written:
   Death is swallowed up in victory.
   O death, where is your victory?
  
Throughout the concerto I enjoyed watching Jacob Tews play the soloist part. At times a smile would play over his lips as he seemed particularly pleased with how it was all sounding. Another time I think it was in anticipation of a section he particularly enjoyed. But during the closing lines his face  filled with emotion and his eyes brimmed with tears.
   O death, where is your sting?
   Amen, halleluia!

Whatever the dreams Jacob and Erik have, I hope that they never stop putting all their heart into the music they compose, perform or conduct.
    

The Saturday in Between

As I've been thinking about Jesus' death and resurrection this year, I've wondered what Saturday was like for his followers. I'm sure they slept only little and their thoughts and conversations were a confused mixture of contradictions. They weren't just mourning the death of a friend and companion, they were faced with the death of hope.

They were convinced that Jesus was the Messiah, the chosen one of God who came to sit on David's throne forever and set all things right. They had listened to him and determined that he had the words of eternal life. He had shown his power over nature by instantaneously turning the sea to glass when they were in a storm that had the experienced fishermen among them convinced they were in their last hour. He had cast demons out of madmen (as well as women and children) giving them freedom they never dreamed was possible. He had fed 5000 men with 5 loaves and 2 fish. They had watched blind people see for the first time in their lives, the deaf hear, the mute speak, the paralyzed run and leap for joy and lepers walk away with skin that was completely whole. Just a few weeks before, their  friend, Lazarus, had been dead and buried for 3 days but Jesus called to him  like he was in the next room and there he was, alive and just as hospitable as ever.

Every man who dies, suddenly becomes better than he was in real-life, but with Jesus it was really true. there were so many things he did that only God could do. If he had any fault, it was that he insisted upon insulting the religious leaders, calling them whitewashed tombs, a bunch of snakes and even worse, Satan's children. While everything he said was true, it got him killed, and that wasn't part of the plan. How could the Messiah, the coming King, the one who said he was the Son of God and was only doing what his Father told him to do, be dead? It made no sense. Jesus had been their hope and now that hope was dead. How could they have been so wrong? What did they miss that showed he wasn't the one to fulfill all those prophecies? I wonder if they thought of the times Jesus had told plainly told them that he was going to die and that on the 3rd day he would rise. It didn't make sense at the time; did it now give them a glimmer of hope?

It is not surprising to me that they had a very hard time believing that Jesus had really risen. It went against everything they had ever experienced. Their only clue had been prophecies they didn't understand as well as the people Jesus had raised from the dead. But once they believed, everything changed and they turned the world upside down.

Jesus' resurrection and its implications for our lives still goes against almost everything in our experience. The only thing I can find to do is join with Paul in asking God to open the eyes of our hearts so we can know the hope he gives, the extravagant value that he places on us and the immeasurable greatness of the resurrection power that is at work in all who believe.

A quiet week

It's been a quiet week. I suppose in some ways it wasn't much different than most weeks. I'm usually at home by 7:30 from my UPS job. This past week I only worked six hours for my afternoon job. I studied for about 5 hours between Monday and Wednesday and went to Physiology lab on Wednesday afternoon. As you can tell, that leaves lots of time for other things. A month ago that schedule had me putting a lot of energy into searching for another job to fill my time. This week I was grateful for the extra time to be able to process some of what I've been experiencing and talking about with friends. I appreciated being able to write out my thoughts without having to watch the clock to make sure I'm on time for the next event.

One of the things I've been thinking about this week is the whole idea of renewing our minds. We've been studying Colossians at church and Paul tells us in chapter 3 to set our minds on and seek the things that are above where Jesus is. He goes on to say that Jesus is our life. The problem is that our actions show we really expect something else to give us life and the result is that our lives are filled with the works of the flesh. In order to stop doing those things and start being loving, patient and kind, we have to change what we are living for. So it all goes back to what we believe and a lifelong process of renewing our minds.

I spent quite a bit of time this week seeking the answer to what it means to renew my mind and how to do that. Google and a couple of friends helped me with some ideas. The basic idea is to replace my thoughts with God's thoughts. That implies that I have to know what my thoughts are, which sounds rather obvious but far too often I don't allow myself to say what I really think because it isn't the way I "should" be thinking. In addition, I don't always find it very easy to identify what I'm feeling. However, I've discovered that one of the effects of dealing with my brother's death is that many of my emotions have been magnified in every area of my life. The raw hurt makes it easier to get at what I really think - and much of the time it seems very far from the "right, biblical" answers I say I believe. The comforting thing is that I see those same raw emotions expressed in the Psalms. These are God inspired songs that he wants his people to actually sing. That tells me God is glad when I pour out all the grief, anger, hurt, pain, and longing as well as the glimpses of joy that I've been experiencing. By telling him (and myself) what I really think rather than what I think he wants to hear we can work with reality rather than a facade. And best of all, he loves, accepts, rejoices over me and even makes up songs about me in the midst of my mess.

Mary Pat's B&B

Since the mid 80s our family has been staying at Mary Pat's B&B on our visits to Minneapolis. It is run by a friend of our family who gladly lets family and friends stay at no charge. At one point, I believe that Mom had a key so we could use it when she was gone. This former school teacher was always super organized. The towels in the bathroom are labeled with the name of each guest. Prayer requests are taped to the bathroom mirror. All condiments (and paint cans) have the date it had been opened written on them. The den is full of conservative political and Christian reading material. (That refers to two separate categories.) The conversation around the table is always lively as Mary Pat has 101 questions and about that many stories as well.

This weekend my parents came to help Mary Pat get her home ready to be put on the market. It is to be ready for showings tomorrow. Dad came with his tool box and paint clothes and Mom brought her organizational skills. I helped some, making a trip to the thrift store and helping to load boxes that we took to her next home. Mary Pat turned down my offered to quickly take care of the paper clutter in the den by getting a few garbage sacks. I guess she wants to see if she will discover any treasures.

Mary Pat may not have long to live. She's made it past 80 and now has an untreatable cancerous growth. With a smile she declares that she is ready to die. "I've had a good life. I love Jesus and I'm ready to see him." Yet at the same time, she isn't eating sugar to try and keep the cancer from growing and it seems it will take her 10 years to do all that she wants to accomplish.

This afternoon as my parents were loading up the car to return home, Dad asked Mary Pat if she had any need for the large pipe wrench he had found in the basement. She responded with an enthusiastic, "O no. Please take it. It's a very good pipe wrench." As he headed to the car, she turned to me and said, "I used to hold tightly to my possessions. But God is good. He has opened my hands and loosened my grip. Now I am glad to see them go." 

Mary Pat is always been a great example of hospitality and generosity. Now she is also an example of someone who is finishing well. She continues to be transformed and she is ready to both die and live.

Acceptance letter

The great excitement of the week was receiving an email from the University of Minnesota saying that it is their pleasure to offer me admission to their Occupational Therapy class of 2014. Needless to say, it is my pleasure to accept. I am waiting for a few days to respond to see if I hear from St Catherine's where I also applied. 

Both schools make their decisions based on grades, references and an essay. My time volunteering in the OT department at a nearby hospital allowed me to get a good reference from one of the therapists there. The essay was to explain why I selected OT as a career, how an OT degree relates to my immediate and long-term professional goals and how my background will help me achieve my goals. Thanks to the help of my English teacher roommate and an aunt I managed to write the following and get close to fulfilling the 4500 character limit. (My first draft was about half that amount.)

Life has been compared to a story. Everyone’s story is unique and compelling. My life experiences, both the joyful and the difficult, shape who I am today and what I desire in the future.

After growing up in northwest Iowa and attending college in Chicago, I moved to Lyon, France to work with immigrants through a church based organization. After 18 years of learning the language and culture and offering assistance to people who became very dear to me, a mentor challenged me to consider a change because of the growing discontent that I felt. She encouraged me to take a deeper look into my strengths, weaknesses and passions. Did I want to continue writing the same kind of story with my life? I had evaluated these things as a teenager but this time my rich life experience allowed me to see myself more clearly.

The organization I worked with in Lyon sought to provide a place where an immigrant’s culture was respected and they could receive practical assistance and friendship. Besides planning cultural activities for all ages I also visited women in their homes. I enjoyed drinking tea with them as I sought to help them navigate the challenges they faced being away from extended family in a new culture. I tried to help the parents and children understand each other as the parents were often viewed as unwilling to change while the children were seen as becoming too French. I enjoyed these relationships but also wondered if I was really making a difference. Others did not always share the few concrete goals for my position so I found it hard to evaluate my effectiveness.

As I looked back on my work experience I realized I most enjoyed helping people in practical ways. It could be as simple as taking a single mother without a car to the grocery store so she could stock up on heavy items or spending two weeks in Tunisia with a friend after her mother died as she closed up her mother’s house. Someone told her it wasn’t right to allow me to work on my vacation. I didn’t mind the work at all since I was there to help.

I have learned I am a doer, not a talker. Long discussions about an issue lead to impatience as I start itching for some action. I grew up in a farm family that did everything together from cleaning the house to weeding the garden to picking up rocks in the field. Someone described our family as having shoulder-to-shoulder relationships. Maybe that is why I derive the most satisfaction from coming alongside people whether their struggle is relational, financial, physical or emotional, and doing things that will make their life better.  In the process I can get to know them better and hear their story.

Occupational Therapy allows me to combine my love for people with a specific way to help them. Almost everyone who needs therapy is at a point of crisis. For some reason, a stroke, a hip replacement, an accident, this chapter of their story is filled with tension and struggle. As a therapist I will have the skills to help them reach their goals and obtain the best physical and cognitive functioning available to them. I know from watching therapists interact with patients that I will probably have to sit on my hands so my desire to help doesn’t lead me to do things for my patients that they can do for themselves even if it is painfully slow. I also believe that my demeanor and encouragement are an important part of my skill set and can assist patients and their family as they navigate these new challenges.

I enjoy working as part of a team, making an important and valued contribution as we address problems. I don’t want to be in a solitary occupation during the next chapter of my life. As an occupational therapist I will have a shoulder-to-shoulder relationship with a team of medical professionals as well as my patients as we all work toward the same goal.

I have lived happily in a rural community, and in large cities both in the US and abroad. As a result, a particular location for employment is not a requirement.  Wherever therapists are needed, patients are writing compelling stories. The time I have spent volunteering in the OT department at Hennepin County Medical Center has shown me that through an Occupational Therapy career I will be helping one person at a time, in a concrete way. And the best part will be going back each day to learn more about the characters and find out how this chapter in each of their stories will end.

Physiology 101

My only class this semester is physiology. The best part of the class was not having to buy a textbook. The professor promised that everything we needed to know would be in her notes. The section I am in is basically online. We can attend a weekly 90 minute session if we want but after attending twice I decided it wasn't worth the time. So my study time is simply reading our professor's notes and answering some questions. We have a weekly test on Thursday which keeps any of us from falling behind.

I do need to attend a weekly lab which is usually interesting. We were randomly assigned to groups the second week and my group is learning to work together and what is expected of us. This past week we did the experiment we designed using an EEG which looks at brain waves. We were looking at beta waves which are most prevalent when we are awake and paying attention. The theory states that alpha waves are more common when our eyes are closed and beta waves are more common when our eyes are open even if we are trying to see in the dark. We wondered what would happen if we blindfolded our subjects and compared the beta wave frequency of when they were just sitting there and when they were listening to a story. Based on the theory it would seem that beta waves would become more frequent when we focused on listening. In reality the opposite happened. Beta wave frequency actually dropped as we listened to the story. Part of my role in this lab report is to come up with some theories as to why we obtained those results. Hopefully I can find a few reports from similar experiments to help me out. I have an extra week to do the work since this week is Spring Break.

A Week with UPS

When I think of shipping something by air I think of small boxes from Amazon, an envelope with some important paper that needs to quickly arrive at its destination, or something that is perishable. The run up to Valentine's Day with way more flowers than usual and numerous Shari's Berries boxes reminded me that some people have to rely on air to make sure that all important gift arrives on time. One of the pilots said he had never seen so many flowers - even for Valentine's Day. The steady stream of King Cakes petered out with the beginning of Lent.

Day to day reality is a bit different. The most common boxes come from Amazon and Zappos. Every Wednesday and Thursday we see a series of plastic orange containers with the movie of the week. This week it was Dr Seuss. I wonder at the boxes that declare their contents to be "human tissue." Daily there are little boxes of machinery parts that somehow manage to weight at least 30 lbs. Due to my job of making sure the packages are sorted to the right side of the belt I've learned that the large white boxes of liquid genetics go to the hog farms in the Morris area and anything with Chinese printing is headed for Thief River Falls and the Polaris or Arctic Cat factories. Long rolls of fabric are addressed to Brainerd. Every day we see a few irregulars which is anything that isn't in a box or weighs over 70 lbs. The most unusual one that I've seen was 32 car tires all headed to the same destination.

This week added some excitement to our routine. On Wednesday I arrived to see one of the supervisors talking with two men in suits. I figured they were the auditors we have been warned about and hoped they would move on to another belt by the time we actually started. It turns out they were from Wells Fargo whose truck is at the end of our belt. It was a perfect day for them to watch how things work. The items addressed to Wells Fargo are almost all copy paper boxes and they tend to be rather heavy. If there are too many of them on the belt at once, the weight causes the belt to stop. The only way to get it going again is to stack some of the boxes on the side and put them back on when there is a break in the action. However, there was no break in the action on Wednesday. The Wells Fargo boxes just kept coming. There were so many that the weight stopped the belt that feeds our belt. That had never happened before. I've never seen so many supervisors in one spot. Add to it a 124 piece special for Thief River Falls and a 24 piece special for Grand Rapids and a sub at the position across from me and we had quite the morning. I actually worked up a sweat.