Doing Life Together

How to Practice the Piano: The Warm-Up, Part II—Etudes and Scales . . .by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on February 27, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Today’s post is a continuation of a previous one on warming up for your piano practice session. To read an article on how beneficial practicing an instrument is, click here.

Etudes

Etudes are studies that target a particular element of technique. Many composers have written etudes. Chopin wrote 27 that are so beautiful they are concert pieces.

The king of etudes (and the first person to call one of his pieces an etude) is Carl Czerny. He studied with Beethoven and went on to become a successful composer and teacher himself. His School of Velocity has been used for over 150 years by piano students all over the world. As the name suggests, these pieces are designed to help the pianist develop speed. I particularly like the collection called Selected Piano Studies.

Learn one hand at a time, starting with your more dominant hand. Some measures will be harder than others. Mark those measures and turn them into little exercises, playing them through many times every day. I start by playing them at least ten times, and the last time must be perfect or I keep working. As I improve on those little snippets, I try to play them perfectly three times in a row, then ten times in a row.

When you can play the entire etude well with separate hands, then put the two hands together.

Play it as slowly as you need to play it correctly, then work on increasing your speed. (You can buy an inexpensive metronome or find one online or download a metronome app.) I start by playing at a comfortable speed, finding my number of beats per minute (bpm) by experimenting with different settings on the metronome, writing that number on my music, and gradually increasing the speed anywhere from 1-10 bpm at a time.

You can work your way through the book practicing up to four etudes at a time, playing each one 4-10 times. Again, systematically rotate through them to review the ones you’ve already mastered.

Scales

Thoroughly learning scales will enable you to play pieces in all keys, major and minor. It is helpful, before practicing a piece, to run through its scale first, along with a progression of chords in that scale.

If you are just beginning to learn your scales, start with the key of C. It is the simplest, because it doesn’t have any sharps or flats. Then progress through the Circle of Fifths. Traveling clockwise or counterclockwise through the circle will add one sharp or flat to the pattern. (Don’t make me try to explain why—just know that music, like everything else in the natural world, is governed by physics and mathematics.)

The Hanon and Schmitt exercise books have scales sections. Refer to these so you can see where the black keys fall and also which fingers to use for each note. Fingering is important; these tried and true fingerings will help you play smoothly with ease.

For the sake of being systematic, learn all the major scales first; then progress through the minors. There are two kinds of minor scales that pianists need to know: harmonic and melodic. The harmonic minor scales are what composers use when writing the harmonic scheme of a piece in a minor key; they use the melodic when writing the melody. The melodic minor is different ascending and descending. (Don’t ask me why, that’s just the way it is. Some intervals sound better going up than going down.)

Start by practicing one octave (eight note unit) going up and coming back down again. Learn the scale first in your more dominant hand, then the other hand, then both hands together, an octave apart.

When you can play one-octave scales in each key well, try two octaves, then three (it helps to group your notes in threes), then four (think groups of four sixteenth notes).

Then learn to play them in contrary motion. Starting with both of your thumbs on the same note, let your right hand go up (right) and your left hand go down (left) in the sequence of the key for one octave, two octaves, or three octaves, then reverse direction and move back to the starting note.

Warming up is just the appetizer of your practice session. Spending time on exercises, etudes, and scales will prepare your brain and your muscles for the entree of your practice: making beautiful music out of notes on a page.

This concludes my two-part series on How to Practice Piano: The Warm-Up. In a future post, I’ll write about practicing repertoire, explaining how you can make your practice time most productive.

Did you find this post helpful? Is there something you would add to the practice of etudes and scales? Please post a comment below.

Posted in Music, Piano, Practicing, Practicing musical instruments, Practicing piano | Tagged Music, Piano, Practicing, Practicing musical instruments, Practicing piano | 7 Comments

How to Practice the Piano: The Warm-Up, Part I—Preparatory Exercises . . .by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on February 24, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

This post started as a response to Jeff Goin’s 500 Word Challenge. The writing prompt was to explain how to do something, step by step.

Although I am not a piano teacher, I know a lot about practicing the piano. I have been playing piano on and off for 54 years, and I love/hate practicing. Many music students regard it as a necessary evil. However, to learn what scientists say about how daily practice and learning to play an instrument benefits you, watch the video below:

To be a great musician (I confess I am not), practicing is a discipline you must cultivate. It is a way of life. The suggestions I give may be applicable to practicing other instruments as well. (For an excellent treatise on the discipline of practicing the guitar, also applicable to other instruments, read Practicing: A Musician’s Return to Music, by Glenn Kurtz.)

As a child, I dreaded practicing. Even as a music major (piano minor), even though I knew intellectually how critical practice is, I seldom practiced enough. My commitment to practice improved a few years ago when my husband and I bought a grand piano. It is such a pleasure to play that I now willingly practice almost every day—but that’s a topic for another post.

This article presupposes that you have some musical knowledge. I apologize if some of my terminology is unfamiliar to you.

If you are taking piano lessons, undoubtedly your teacher has assigned you some preparatory exercises, etudes (studies), and/or scales. Begin your daily practice time with these. Depending on your level of skill and commitment, you should spend anywhere from 10 to 60+ minutes of your practice on warm-ups. (The greater your skill and/or desire, the more time you will spend on warm-ups and on practice.)

Exercises

If you are studying on your own, I recommend Aloys Schmitt and C.L. Hanon as two composers whose preparatory exercises have been used for over a century. Any of their books would be worthwhile to work through. These exercises take common snippets of melody and repeat them so that the musician gains facility in the technique and fingering necessary to play them. And, yes, the repetition will strengthen arm and hand muscles you didn’t know you had, just as an athlete’s workout does. The Schmitt exercises are repeated in the same position; the Hanon exercises repeat the same sequence of intervals but progressively starting on the next higher or lower pitch.

If you are just beginning to learn an exercise, practice with your dominant hand first, then with your less dominant hand, and then with both hands together. Start out slowly enough that you can play all notes correctly and with the specified fingers. Then, unless the exercise is specifically marked as staccato (detached), work on making it very legato (smooth and connected). Eventually, you should practice all sorts of attacks for each exercise—legato, marcato (accented), staccato, szfortzando (suddenly loud and then soft again), and different dynamic (volume) levels. When you can play the exercise smoothly, work on increasing speed. At first, practice each Schmitt exercise 20 times, each Hanon exercise 4 times. When you have mastered the exercise, you will review each exercise with fewer repetitions. Schmitt says it is of the utmost importance to play all the mastered exercises at least once every day. (Man, you could eventually spend your whole day just playing through your mastered exercises!) I recommend systematically reviewing all your exercises in a rotation that works for you.

Preparatory exercises are just one option for your practice warm-up. At a later date, I will post an entry about Etudes and Scales.

Did you find this post helpful? Is there something you would add to the practice of preparatory exercises? Post a comment below to join the conversation.

Posted in Music, Piano, Practicing, Practicing musical instruments, Practicing piano | Tagged Music, Piano, Practicing, Practicing musical instruments, Practicing piano | 7 Comments

Gracefully Gray…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on February 20, 2015 by Linda Carlblom

Linda on a particularly good hair day.

I’m one of those women who has never liked messing with my hair much. I keep it short so I don’t have to curl, straighten, or style it. I like the wash and wear (though I do blow-dry) simplicity of short hair.

Years ago, like maybe fifteen to twenty, I thought it might be fun to put some blonde highlights in my hair. Not blonde, blonde. But something lighter than my usual dark, dark. I’d read somewhere that as you age, you should go with a lighter color to keep you looking younger. So after petting all the hair samples at the drugstore, I found the shade I wanted and brought it home. This would be fun!

Long story short, I did it. Then I shyly looked in the mirror when I was done to see the result. Red. My hair was not highlighted with streams of sunshine, but red streaks. I’ll let you draw your own comparisons. Maybe I didn’t get a light enough shade, I thought. But the next time I tried it with a shade that was shockingly light on the box, I had the same result.

I consulted a hair stylist who told me apparently I have natural red highlights in my hair that just want to stay that way. Hmph. Of course, if I wanted to come into the shop and pay an ungodly amount, she could make them come out the way I wanted. I didn’t want them that bad. Remember, I’m a wash and wear kind of gal, who doesn’t like messing with my hair much.

Over the years, I’ve gotten my wish. I have the lighter highlights I spent money for at the drugstore. Only these are natural and more silvery than any of the boxes I saw on the shelf. I’ve let my hair go gray of its own freewill and, by golly, I love it! No covering roots. No hoping I got the right shade of dye. My gray glistens in the sun and doesn’t even show when it falls from my head onto the shower floor. It’s fabulous!

I have a way to go before I’m totally gray. I’m still in the salt and pepper highlights stage. But like food, isn’t life better with a little seasoning? I plan to enjoy every minute of growing Gracefully Gray.

Anyone else out there going with their natural, organic (I’ve heard those are big buzzwords these days) hair color? Let me hear from you in the comments!

Linda

Posted in Aging, Health and Beauty, Humor, Life, Life Transitions | Tagged aging, going gray, gray hair, hair color, hair dye, highlighting hair | 13 Comments

Scrabble and Meat Loaf…Donna Clark Goodrich

Posted on February 18, 2015 by dgood648

Scrabble™ and Meat Loaf

Donna Clark Goodrich

I met Esther on our first Sunday in Arizona. She was in our Sunday school class and, being only six weeks apart in age and with the same zany sense of humor, we clicked right away and became close friends.

Years later she helped me in my income tax business, coming in evenings after her daytime job with the city.

Then she was diagnosed with Guillain Barre Syndrome, followed by diabetes and kidney failure, leading to dialysis three times a week.

I talked with her often on the phone, and she would say, “C’mon over and play a game of Scrabble with me.”

“I will, as soon as I get caught up with my work,” I promised. But it seems I never did get “caught up,” then I received an email from our church prayer chain that she had passed away.

Another friend I met through our writers’ group was Lucky. She and her husband had adopted three children from Mexico who had been abused by a relative. Lucky wrote a book about her experience, leading to interviews on radio stations.

Then cancer struck. I would often see her in stores wearing a turban or nothing at all on her hairless scalp. Sometimes my husband or I would take her to chemo treatments.

I called her one day and asked if I could do anything for her. “I’d love some good meat loaf,” she said.

“That’s not one of my specialties,” I laughed, “but I’ll bring over something else in a couple of days.” However, three days later she was gone.

Regrets? Definitely. But I’ve learned two things: Don’t promise something you can’t do, and when you do promise something, make sure you can carry out that promise.

What can you do for a sick friend?

When my husband was in a care center for five weeks, friends:

Replenished my cell phone
Took me to lunch
Brought over a “care basket” with packages of soup, cookies, cocoa, and a devotional booklet.

When my mother was in the hospital after cancer surgery, friends

Sent her cards every week
Gave out their phone number so people could call them for updates
Kept coffee and soup warm at her house for family members

There’s always something you can do—even if it’s not Scrabble and meat loaf!

What would you like friends to do for you when you’re sick?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged friends | 3 Comments

Mother-Guilt…The Gift that Keeps on Giving by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on February 17, 2015 by Betty Mason Arthurs

Mother-Guilt…The Gift that Keeps on Giving by Betty Mason Arthurs

“Mom, why didn’t I go to preschool? I don’t think I’d be so shy if I had.” My grown daughter, Julie, once again asked me about her “deprived” childhood. Just because her three boys attended college-prep preschools and can text 49 words a minute, it’s a wonder Julie graduated from kindergarten.

Once again I was fighting mother-guilt, a malady afflicting all the mothers I know. If your baby’s face pops out a rash you want to hide until it’s gone since complete strangers ask questions like: Did you change detergents? Is he allergic to eggs or wheat? You didn’t give him peanut butter did you?”

Could it ever be someone else’s fault…oh no, it’s the mother’s idiocy causing the child’s problems. It’s the chocolate you consumed while pregnant. It’s the bushels of whole wheat cereal you fed them when the little tikes refused to eat anything else.

Today instant information via cyberspace feeds mother-guilt. A young mother during her baby’s nap time was sipping a cup of café mocha and checking Facebook when meddling scientists broadcast that breast fed babies are smarter. There’s wasted potential held within a woman’s chest. This young mother, in tears, who feeds her baby formula, called her mom, “I’m neglecting to pass on the smart genes to my precious Collin!” Her mother soothed her fears, “Sometimes milk ducts won’t lactate. Researchers, all breast fed, have nothing better to do than make us all feel like we were born on Mars.” Thanks to this report, a million guilt-plagued moms punching their delete buttons almost shut down Facebook. Nobody wants dumb kids.

My mother passed on the DNA guilt to me. She often told me, “You know why you had pneumonia as a baby? My doctor induced me two weeks early ‘cause he wanted to go on vacation. You weren’t ready and it affected your lungs and maybe gave you bad health all your life.” Every teensy wrong decision can torment a mommy’s memory and overshadow all the sacrifice and beauty a woman brings to her children’s lives. And no one prayed more for me and my two brothers than she did. Thanks, Mom.

My son doesn’t confront me with motherly sins. Robbie doesn’t have to since a mom remembers the days of her youngest. Allergies still attack his 40 plus year-old body. I look back on his 1970s childhood and ask, “Why didn’t I vacuum the carpets daily, kick out the dogs and cats, and feed him more than hot dogs and bologna sandwiches?” It’s all consuming, like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, my mother-guilt. He has four children and his wife, Heather, once told us when she was expecting their second child, “I feel so bad for my sweet boy since he’s in a used uterus.” Classic mother-guilt.

One day I tried to explain to Julie why she never romped through preschool. “We lived in farm country and only had one car which your father needed for work. We also didn’t have the money.” I grabbed a tissue. “You’re shy because I fed you strained peas and carrots laced with monosodium glutamate and we slurped gallons of Kool-Aide.”

Julie has three boys and her youngest just got his driver’s permit. For the older two, circling parking lots and back streets came easy. With the “baby,” his driving over curbs and slamming on brakes, has added a new challenge to her life. Perhaps she’s praying, “Lord, is this my fault? Please help me not to resign from motherhood.” But I know, like all mothers, she’ll never give up on teaching him safety on the road and forgive him for adding grey hairs to her head. It’s what moms do.

Yes, forgiveness is woven into every beat of a mom’s loving, nervous heart.

Through years of tears and laughter as a mother and grandmother, I have depended on God’s grace and mercy and learned to forgive myself for all the mistakes I’ve made. Love is the true gift, not mother-guilt, which keeps on giving and giving.

Posted in Family Life, Family Stories, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized | Tagged Daughters, forgiveness, Guilt, Humor, Mothering, Prayer, Sons | 5 Comments

The Valentine Gift I’ll Never Forget…by Donna Clark Goodrich

Posted on February 14, 2015 by dgood648

Valentine’s Day was approaching—and I was spending it in the hospital. A case of the flu had turned in to acute bronchitis, and I found myself celebrating the holiday as a patient at Trinity Lutheran Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri.

My 16-year-old roommate helped the time go faster. With just a few years difference in our ages, we managed to solve all the world’s great problems concerning politics, religion, education, etiquette, and, of course, men.

We also spent many hours planning for her overseas trip she hoped to take three months later. We hung up signs around the room reading, “From Enemas to Europe,” “From Bedpans to Belgium,” etc.

One thing I didn’t plan on, however, was leaving the hospital with a ring on my left hand. But, as they say, one thing leads to another, and it was on Valentine’s Day, 1960, that my life changed for the better.

***

“I have a friend I want you to meet,” a coworker who lived in my apartment house said to me one day. “His name is Gary Goodrich. He’s from my hometown and went to the church my dad pastored. He’s here in seminary now.”

“I’ll meet him,” I told her, “but tell him I don’t want to get serious.” The guy I had been dating was now in the Army and had called me a couple of weeks before to tell me he wanted to date my roommate. While our relationship never went beyond the friendship stage, still I wasn’t ready to start dating again.

A week or so later this same girl knocked on my door saying Gary was downstairs looking for someone to type a term paper. She didn’t type, so came up to ask me. I refused at first because I had the flu. But she talked me into it.

A week later Gary picked up the paper and asked me to go to church with him the next day—the last Sunday in January. We dated for two weeks. Then when the flu worsened, I ended up in the hospital—and went home with a diamond—three weeks after we met. Friends have asked me how he proposed. He didn’t! He just said, “We better not tell anyone yet. It’s been too soon.”

“Tell anyone what?” I said.

“That we’re getting married.”

“Oh!”

(By the time my friend remembered to tell him I didn’t want to get serious, we were already engaged.)

***

This Valentine’s Day we’ll celebrate the 55^th year of that special occasion—when that wonderful guy I didn’t want to get serious with gave me the Valentine’s gift I’ll never forget. It’s like my mother always said, “Sometimes God takes away the good to give us the best.” And I have the best!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Engagement, love, Valentine's Day | 3 Comments

When You Don’t Have a Valentine…Judy Robertson

Posted on February 13, 2015 by Judy Robertson

I had begun praying for a group to critique my writing when I lived with my husband, Jim, on the tiny South Pacific island of American Samoa. I wrote to tell my friends and family about the awesome tropical island we lived on. My writing became, for me, a way to express everything from our first reactions to our new culture to how I was scared out of my wits when a huge millipede dropped off the towel I was drying with.

I needed to know if what I wrote was worth possible publishing or fodder for the waste basket. Did it have merit even a tiny bit?

It wasn’t until we left the island after seven years and savored the taste of America again, that I found a small group of ladies who also had writing in their blood.

Now over twenty years later, this small group of ladies still encourage me along my writing journey. They have become special friends to me. And when friends come alongside, their glue holds me together. Each friend exudes a special bonding element that works wonders. God created this glue in each of us.

Writer’s Group

“He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed” (Proverbs 11:25).

There are times, however, when we simply have no one around to lift us up, making special holidays, like Valentine’s Day, a real downer.

I think of the years in Samoa when I visited women in prison who had no one caring for any of their needs. This also occurs in America in prisons and many other places where people are isolated and have no one to care.

What I have found, however, is a special friend who is available to all of us. His name is Jesus. The kind of love He offers us cannot be found in a card, long stem roses, or chocolate candy. His love is greater than all the world can ever offer. I run to His amazing love often, remembering what He said to His disciples:

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

Many times when friends are not near—Jesus is. We may not even be aware of His presence. But when we acknowledge Him He makes His presence known to us.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34: 18).

I have experienced His presence many times. And you can, too. I have come to know and understand that when we call on God, He’s right there for us. We may not see Him, but we can be aware of His presence. Here are some truths from the Bible I have found that render peace to my soul when I am weary or discouraged.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13).

When we call He hears and He comes to us and will not leave us.

“Jesus replied, ‘If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him’” (John 14:23-24).

Can you imagine the Lord Jesus and the Father living within you? That is the promise we have when we cry out to the Lord.

“How gracious He will be when you cry for help! As soon as He hears, He will answer you” (Isaiah 30:19).

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).

He is there, just as He said. He will strengthen you and me. He will help us. He will be a shield surrounding us. How great is our God. He is truly amazing.

Help is near. Just call.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY…every day.

Posted in Faith, Friendship, Greatest love ever, Grief, Jesus, loneliness on holidays, Love, Overcoming Fear, Valentines Day, Widowhood, Writing | Tagged faith, Friend Jesus, friends, loneliness, Valentine's Day | 11 Comments

Rocks

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Joy

There’s a story of a woman with a rock. She carries the rock everywhere she goes. It’s not a pretty rock; in fact it’s a rather dirty, ugly, boring rock. But everyone notices the rock because it’s so big. One day it starts raining and it doesn’t stop. The water rises and the woman is trapped in a building. She climbs to the roof of the building, with her rock, and hopes rescue will come. She is standing on the roof, the water up to her waist and a boat comes along. The rescuers yell to her to swim to the boat – it’s only 10 feet, she can make it. Then one of them sees the rock. “Drop the rock, it will weigh you down.” The woman shakes her head. She secures the rock under one arm and pushes off into the water …and immediately she sinks. She somehow pulls herself to the surface with one arm and gasps for breath. “Drop the rock” the rescuers yell over and over. The woman goes under again. She surfaces one more time and they yell “Drop the rock.” She sputters “I can’t! It’s mine. It’s all I have.” And she sinks below the surface. Change is hard.

If I told you my story, you would probably think change is easy for me. I’ve lived in 5 different states and 9 different houses in the past 15 years. I’ve had 7 different jobs, two of them completely different careers. I’ve made a lot of money and I’ve been not only broke but in significant debt. I gave away almost all of my possessions, packed what was left in a U-Haul and started over. People tell me how brave I am, but I wonder if they are saying brave and thinking foolish.

The truth is change is hard for me too. It’s so much easier to hold on to what is familiar, even if it’s painful. Even if it’s ugly. Even when it weighs me down. I wore the same pair of athletic shoes for 10 years. I have a sweat shirt that I got in 1992 that is in tatters that I refuse to throw away. I have a broken 1st generation IPad in my office. I stayed in an abusive marriage for 20 years. And I’ve been carrying a huge rock for a few years now. I’ve been angry with someone and refused to let it go. Just so you know, it was not a small thing. It was big. Huge in fact. The same as the size of the rock I’m carrying around. And I feel like that drowning woman – knowing my rock is dragging me under, killing me, but unwilling to let it go.

Today I remembered my friend Joe. Joe hikes the Grand Canyon every year. At the beginning of the trip he picks out a big rock. It usually weighs about 30 pounds. He straps it into his backpack and it stays with him on his descent into the canyon. This hike is not for the faint of heart – it’s a long, grueling hike going not only down, but often up, back and forth along the face of the canyon covering more than 10 miles in order to descend to the canyon floor. The trail is narrow and slippery in places. Adding that weight makes it even more challenging. Once he’s in the bottom and makes camp, he pulls his rock out. He names the rock with the thing he needs to leave behind. He contemplates, prays, and writes it all down. And when he is sure that he’s done with the rock, he places it in the canyon, packs his camp and leaves it behind. And whenever he goes back to those thoughts, those actions or behaviors, he reminds himself that he left that rock in the canyon.

So I got up, went out to the rocks near the water and found one that felt as heavy as all that emotional baggage I’ve been carrying around. I went for a long walk with that rock in my arms, just to ensure I remember how heavy it has been carrying all that anger. My back was pounding, my arms were burning, and even my feet were hurting as I carried my rock to the water. I finally made it to the point where I could let it go and be sure it dropped out of sight into the bay. I named my rock and I let it go.

As I turned and walked away I saw the hills in the distance, the Bay Bridge off to my left. The blue sky and sparkling water. I realized my whole life is ahead of me and my rock is behind me. It felt good.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged change, drowning, forgiveness, grand canyon, letting go, rock | 4 Comments

A Valentine Legacy of Forgiveness…by Peggy Levesque

Posted on February 6, 2015 by Peggy Levesque

What do you think of as Valentine’s Day approaches? Hearts? Flowers? Love? Yeah, those things come to my mind as well, but mostly I think of…forgiveness. Let me tell you why.

My father had a volatile temper. He could swing from good-natured and fun-loving to rage in two seconds flat. As children, my siblings and I often found dinnertime especially tense because if one of us did something to annoy him—like tip over a glass of milk—he’d start on the offending child and go around the table, using words that cut like the sharpest knife.

I still remember his exact words during one such incident. “I wish I could stuff you all into a gunny sack and throw you off a bridge into the river!”

Fast forward to the summer before my senior year in high school when we vacationed for two weeks with relatives in another state. For our last weekend, they had planned a family reunion. I told my dad I wanted to go swimming with the rest of the cousins my age before we all joined the others. I never saw this one coming until my father whipped off his belt. The welts and bruises lingered for six months. Although it hadn’t been the first such occurrence, the emotional scars and humiliation lasted well into adulthood.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of good memories of family times—abuse isn’t the point anyway. I simply want to give a couple of examples of what it was like living in my household and set the stage for what came later.

After I graduated high school, I got a job and moved in with some college friends, determined to prove my worth. Brick-by-brick, I built a new me, projected a confidence I didn’t feel. Tried to shut out the voice in my head that kept telling me I could never measure up. I created a successful career, married, and had a family. Whenever my wall crumbled in spots, I worked harder at shoring it up. I had a lot of happy, but even years later, even though I had an authentic relationship with my Jesus, real peace eluded me.

Until one Valentine’s Day—the sixth anniversary of my father’s death—when I learned the truth. I couldn’t work hard enough, or patch my wall fast enough to hold the memories at bay. Caught in waves of pain, I knelt at the side of my bed, sobbing. Please God, I want to feel whole.

As though a gentling hand touched my shoulder, I calmed. I knew, as surely as if I’d heard the words directly from God’s mouth. You need to forgive your father.

I thought I had. Certainly I’d tried through the years, but if I had truly forgiven, my past would have no power to hurt me. Throughout the day, as I pondered and prayed, I realized I had been working it all out myself without allowing the genuine healing God wanted for me. Did it really matter so much that I hadn’t had a Brady Bunch upbringing?

Suddenly I saw my father not so much as an abuser, but as the abused and hurting child he had been. A legacy he received and passed on to his children. I remember wondering what kind of legacy I would leave my own children. I hoped all three knew I loved them beyond words, but…did they?

As hard as it is to say, I have to admit that I carried my father’s legacy into my early parenting years. I worked hard to break the cycle, but I still lashed out at them in anger more than I wanted. By the time my third child was born, I had learned new skills. I avoided most of the mistakes I made with my boys, only to stumble onto new ones.

By the end of that Valentine’s Day, as every brick of the self-constructed me collapsed, I realized I no longer needed the wall. For the first time in my life I could face my past without plunging into the deep well of anguish that haunted me. God led me to those still waters of Psalm 23 because I chose to follow His lead. While forgiving my father didn’t make his actions okay, it did free me to grow closer to the ideal of the victorious woman God originally designed.

I wish I could say I parented perfectly after that. I wish. But today, I look at my two sons and daughter as adults, and know that God worked a miracle. They are genuinely good people who love God, each successful in their own way. As parents, though they certainly make their own mistakes, they are amazing.

Everyone I know has something to forgive, whether trauma or mere slight. You probably do as well. My advice? Don’t let it steal your joy, hold you back. Release it. God replaced my father’s legacy in my life with His own valentine legacy of forgiveness and love. Let Him do the same for you.

Posted in Forgivness, Holiday, Legacy, Valentines Day | Tagged Christian Living, faith, family stories, forgivness, Parenting | 4 Comments

Is That Really What I Look Like?

Posted on February 3, 2015 by Carol Boley

The smile wasn’t quite right…kind of forced. The eyes lacked sparkle. And look at those crow’s feet. And those droopy lids.

I knew I had a great photographer. Her pictures flattered her subjects, exposing their unique beauty. She’s that good. That’s why I had gone to her to take head shots for my webpage. She could capture the image I was going for: professional yet warm and engaging.

Other people thought the pictures were good representations of me. I was the only one who thought they seemed a little… off.

Like the time I took the visual fields test at the ophthamologist’s office and kept waiting to see the bright light so I could click the buzzer. This machine must be broken, I thought. It’s too long between flashes. But the machine was just fine, thank you. It was my eyes that were broken, something I suspected all along.

And then it hit me. What if that really is what I look like? Yikes! Somehow, in my mind, I pictured myself a little differently. A little brighter, a little livelier, a little more lovely. Yet there was no denying it. That was me, all right.

I felt somewhat better when my daughter said my picture looked like me when I was posing, but not what I actually look like “in real life.”

I think the same thing when I read about myself in scripture. “The heart is deceitful above all things…” (Jeremiah 17:9) It’s like holding up a mirror in front of my face or seeing a picture of myself. Is that really who I am? Yikes! Yes, that’s who I am and what my heart looks like when I am posing, not experiencing real life. I don’t like what I see. It seems a little…off.

How can I experience “real life?” I read on. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! …God made him who had no sin to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:17; 21)

There it is. There’s the “real life” I’m looking for, the “real life” I’m longing to see in the mirror. And it’s mine because of what Jesus has done for me. He has taken the dull and lifeless and made it beautiful, trading my posing for his perfection, just because he says so. He’s that good. Now when I read his words I see myself as I really am, in real life, his life…his beloved, beautiful in his sight…and I like what I see. A Savior who loves me.

And he loves you, and sees you as beautiful. That’s real life. And in case you ever wondered… that’s what you really look like.