You may have noticed that I don't speak too much about the ins and outs of daily missionary work. We spend a lot of our time trying to solve problems. . .and often our efforts aren't fit for public consumption because they would embarrass the people involved. The Church is young here in Rwanda. There are lots of growing pains with similar problems (and miracles) to the early days of the Church.
Yesterday, we had three classes to teach and one meeting to attend as mentors. We went to Gasanze to teach a conducting music class that will progress to a piano class if the students stick with it. (The main driver of this class is Frank who is getting ready to go on a mission. He's a delightful young man.) It was a good class with most of the students catching on, thanks to Frank's translation.
Then out to Kinyinya for an English Connect 2 class. Here's their picture after one of the women left for another class.
After English Connect 2, we held another Music class. Alphonse had been asked to conduct music in Sacrament meeting and wanted to spend the time practicing. He was nervous, since it would be his first time. I am excited that my students are finally progressing to leading the music in Sacrament Meeting, so I made a wild and crazy offer. . . "I'll accompany you."
Playing piano in Sacrament meeting rises to the level of phobia for me. Here's the back story, When I was a young lass of about 12, I was in my third year of piano lessons. I hated my lessons. Partly because I hadn't learned to sight read at all and it took months to learn a new song (since the only time I played the piano was at my lessons.)
I had more or less mastered "America the Beautiful" because for a recital. My teacher was a four-foot tall ancient lady named Mrs. Groth. (Pronounced "Growth") (Insert emoji here!) She had terrible breath and no teaching method other than scolding me.
The recital was held in the gathering room of a nursing home. The oldsters gathered, or were gathered by the nurses. Some were in wheel chairs, others with canes, some aware and eager to interact and others not at all.
When my turn came, I was still nervous. I made a major mistake on the first bar. Since I couldn't sight read and had merely memorized it, I had to start over. Mrs. Groth said, "You can do better than that! Now everybody sing along!"
Those of you who play the piano know that accompanying singing requires precise timing, practice and utter concentration.
But they all started singing. . . As you would expect, some of those with dementia didn't know the words so they just sort of bellowed and howled.
I made another mistake and struggled to recover some resemblance to the melody amongst the ruckus.
At last Mrs. Groth got the audience to realize that the song had ended. I returned to my seat humiliated, traumatized, and considering new illnesses that might get me out of my Thursday afternoon piano lessons.
Shortly thereafter, I begged my Mom to let me quit. She agreed more readily than I expected. (She had agreed that asking the people to sing along was a dirty trick.)
It was at least a decade before I sat down at a piano again. I had to count the lines to figure out the notes!
But I started to practice here and there. About 35 years ago, I bought a piano.
Over the next three decades I sometimes practiced weeks in a row and had learned to play a few hymns.
In recent years I have come to enjoy playing my old upright grand, with it's beautiful tone and old-fashioned filigree. But I have maintained my terror of accompanying.
On our mission application, I indicated that I played the piano as an advanced learner.
Once we got here I applied for the Harmon grant to provide keyboards so the branches would have practice instruments. I started teaching music conducting in a few of the branches as we waited for the keyboards to come.
On the Sunday before Christmas, one of the branches we attended had a visiting area authority in Sacrament Meeting. Neither the branch president, the first counselor nor those assigned to give talks showed up. There was nobody to help with music either.
NO MUSIC FOR CHRISTMAS????? I had to help. I had been practicing a few traditional Christmas hymns and felt I could manage something.
My weak knees trembled as I sat down praying. My hands shook as I placed them on the keyboard.
Silent night, Holy night, All is calm, all is bright. . . Ah, nothing like a little perspective.
The visiting authority gave a fantastic Christmas message.
I made it through. Afterward the branch counselor thanked me profusely. When the area authority thanked me for my "beautiful accompaniment" I told him that it was my very first time and my goal was to be better than nothing. He and his wife laughed and congratulated me for succeeding at " being better than nothing." (High praise, indeed!)
Now I have a basic keyboard in our apartment so I can practice every day.
So yesterday, I told Alphonse that since he was going to conduct, I would play the piano. How could I not face my terrors if I am the teacher?
We practiced conducting the songs he had chosen. One with three flats...one with two sharps. . .and one with one flat, (easy peasy)
The fourth event of our day yesterday was a Young Single Adult meeting that went a little late. I was too tired to practice by the time we got home.
I gave myself permission to only play the both hands for the easier parts and resort to using the right hand alone for the rest. I also turned the volume down on the keyboard a bit so the crowd would mostly drown out the piano. . .(smooth move!)
I started by playing prelude, going through some hymns that I know well, (and also to stop the half-dozen children from banging on the keyboard) It did help calm the shaking a little.
As the meeting started, I thought to myself, "In ten minutes I'll be 66% finished with this ordeal."
I made it through "Secret Prayer" with a few mistakes, but none too horrible. The main problem is that the congregation is used to singing with no accompaniment and with a conductor that doesn't know the purpose of conducting. They lagged behind by about three beats, despite Alphonse's and my best efforts. But the piano did keep them in the right key.
The Sacrament hymn had part of the third verse with no accompaniment because I got distracted by the little boy that was sitting close beside me singing a different song. (There are lots of little children in the Kinyinya Branch that are our good friends.)
The last hymn was fine. . .and short. . .and therefore a future favorite.
Alphonse did WELL! (He'll have to bellow the melody into a microphone to get the congregation to honor his leading, but that will be a future day.)
Afterward, the branch presidency congratulated Alphonse and thanked us both profusely. When Brother Jimmy (the man who had conducted the meeting) said "You're the best!" to me, I had to laugh. It's actually true! I'm the best piano player available in the 5th Sacrament meeting of the day. On the other hand, if they had higher standards, I would have fainted dead away with strains of "America the Beautiful" echoing in my memory.
Whom the Lord calls he qualifies. I have prayed for the ability to play the piano well. I'm going to soon begin teaching the piano portion of the music courses the Church has developed. Mrs. Groth would be so proud!
I'm still jealous of Nephi. All he had to do was build a boat!
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