Ah, the simple life.
I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days about the simple life. What is it? Is it desirable? Is it attainable?
I posed the question here and on Facebook. Some seem to think that it means having less. Others, feeling more. For some, it seems that living in moderation is the key to living the simple life. Seems everyone has their own definition. So, I had to ask myself, "Rachael, ,what do YOU define as the simple life?"
"Good question, " I said.
When I think of the simple life, I think of one with fewer bills, because there are fewer things that I "need." I think of homemade rugs and jam for wedding gifts. Not because one is poor, but because one knows her well enough to know that those items are her favorite and your heart takes joy in making her happy.
I think of driving slow because, a) you left with plenty of time and b) there is no other way to go. No such thing as the fast lane or drivers cutting you off because they're in so much of a hurry.
I think of a life where I can let my children roam the neighborhood without fear of the perverts that might be lurking. I think of myself being able to walk down the street or through the woods or on the beach without fear of being prey to someone's violent impulses.
I think of a place where you know your neighbors and you share with your neighbors. A place where "everybody knows your name".
I think of a life with far less stress and far less noise I can be alone in my home and not hear the hum of the refrigerator, the buzz of the lights, or the quiet fan of the desktop computer. The phone doesn't ring and there are no telemarketers, for crying out loud!
I think of the quiet hours spent making things for my home and "homely" is fashionable. There's no expectation of having my home look like it came from the department store or like something out of a Bed Bath and Beyond mailer.
I don't want to feel guilty when I come home from work because the house is messy and doesn't have the homey touch of a mom who has been home all day.
At the end of the day, I can read a book or write or play music in the evenings. I can relax without feeling guilty about it, which isn't very relaxing.
Relax. Hmmm....
So, as I daydream about all the wonderful things the simple life has to offer, truth is, I will likely never be one who leaves in plenty of time to get somewhere because I will likely always want "just one more minute" of sleep. I don't want to take up sewing or quilting. Not right now, anyway.
While I enjoy my one day per week I have off when the kids are at school and can spend time feeling like the housewife I intended to be, if I'm honest with myself I know that I love being with people and if I did not have an outside job, I would find something else to do outside of the home. I'd be volunteering at school, at church, you name it.
Truth be told, I don't want to give up my fridge, computer, or electricity for the sake of quiet. I just want quiet.
So, do I want to live the simple life? Yes. Uhhh..no. I mean yes. But wait…
When it comes down to it, I just want to relax. But I don't want to work hard at it and that's exactly what simple living is about. It's not a dream world where life falls into place the way you want it and it isn't a place where you control what other people do. Simple living is about making the tough decisions that require cutting back and doing less and working hard to uphold them and, at the end of the day, taking time to relax.
How do I fare? I have to laugh at myself.
You?
And then, there's Little League and piano lessons...
I currently owe over $400 to a gas station for driving off with the pump still attached to my car. Need I say more?
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Thoughts on the Simple Life
Labels:
bed bath and beyond,
fridge,
music,
quiet,
quilting,
read,
relax,
simple life,
write
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Missing Costume
Besides damaging fuel pumps, crushing my car in drive-through car washes, and being the luckiest person on the planet, I, as I have mentioned afore, teach Music at a K-8 school, Pacific Coast Christian Academy. I absolutely LOVE my job!!! Working with children is one of the most fulfilling things in my life. To know that I have made, am making, and will make a difference is something that cannot be measured in dollars and cents, nor can it be explained by letters on a computer screen. Suffice it to say that this job has made me realize that love has no limits, even though my heart feels sometimes like it's going to bust open because it's just doesn't seem possible for it to contain it all.
Or maybe I just have the most special students in all the world, which is possible. Just ask their parents!
One part of my job is to direct the school's two musicals. It's a big production on a small budget. There are roughly 80 kids on stage at once, close to 100 when preschool is on the stage with us. The whole school sings in the choir and there are drama and solo parts. In less than 3 months, somehow we manage to learn 6 or 7 songs and memorize parts for a 45 minute show. Three months may seem like a long time, but we only have Music class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. My kids are amazing!!!
I can go on and on about my job and about my students, but I may have already lost you, so let me go on to the story.
Like I said, it's a big production on a small budget, so when it comes to costumes, we beg, borrow, and... uh, can't steal because it's a Christian school. ;-) But we do a lot of begging and borrowing. For Christmas last year, there were 3 kids that played the role of janitors. We borrowed 3 coveralls from...well, that's confidential information. I didn't give them to the kids until the day before the show because I didn't want them to get lost. You know how it is, child puts costume in backpack, backpack goes home, backpack gets unloaded along with the newest glitter creation of the day, and somehow it ends up under the bed with stinky socks and all the healthy food that mom or dad packed for their lunch and told them they had to eat.
So, the day before the BIG NIGHT I handed out the coveralls. The next day one of the kids brought the coveralls back so he could practice with them. (He was very eager! He was also GREAT at his part! I could start bragging, but I'll spare you...for now.)
You probably can't imagine this, but I am a total stress case the day of the program. Stage 10, I call it. When the coveralls showed up at our last rehearsal and then got left behind, I knew that in my heightened state of freak-out I should be sure this costume gets put somewhere that it would not get lost.
So, I put it in a very...safe...place.
The BIG NIGHT approaches ever so suddenly and before I know it, I am pacing the floor of the church where we are performing our program. Well, I don't know that walking the entire length of the building back and forth is pacing...perhaps more like hiking...in nylons and heels. But I arrive an hour early to set up and well...pretty much hike the length of the building.
At 6:30pm the drama kids start arriving. I make my rounds, making sure they get mics, props, and to check over their costume to make sure everything is there. I get through all the kids, but at 6:40 I'm missing a kid. Where is he???
As I hike toward the foyer of the building, I see him. Whoo! Thank goodness! I think to myself, "He better get his costume on soon!"
"Mrs. Mickel, Joe (not his real name) lost his costume."
Lost his costume?
"I remember you brought it to school..."
"Yeah!" Joe says. "And I left it in the chapel."
Ok. At this point, in the height of Stage 10, I cannot remember anything past seeing the costume in the chapel. I don't remember if I picked it up and ran it to Joe's classroom or that I put it in a "safe place." I don't remember anything at all. What I DO know is that if this is my fault, I am going to feel really..really...really bad!!! This is Joe's first program with a speaking part. Not just that, but he also does a little dance number. Joe is a born entertainer and I have been looking forward to seeing him shine on that stage since he was in Kindergarten. I MUST FIND THAT COSTUME!
And so, not knowing who's fault it is, I look at the clock and see that we have 20 minutes until show time. Let's see...5 minutes home, 2 minutes of looking, 5 minutes back. Yeah, sure! I can do this!
And so off I fly like a bat out of a Scooby-Doo episode. I get home, tear out of my car, and begin searching the house, the garage, the trunk of my car, the inside of the infamous Expedition... Everywhere I can think of. When I don't see the costume, I begin to tear into my husband's wardrobe to find SOMETHING Joe can wear! I pull out a flannel or two and head out.
On my way back to the church I think, "Hey! I'll bet Joe took the costume back to class with him since I told him to make sure and not forget it at rehearsal today and then he must have forgotten to put it in his backpack. Yeah! That MUST be what happened!"
I've got 8 minutes until the show starts. Let's see...10 minutes to the school, 30 seconds of looking, 10 minutes back...I won't be TOO late. Ok. Let's do this!
So, off I flew like an early bird who just woke up late and drove to the school. I unlock the classroom door, search wildly, and to my dismay, do not find the costume.
Office! Maybe it's in the office!
I run to the office, unlock the door, tear inside, unlock my office door, and begin searching. Nope. Nope. Nope. Under this thing? Nope.
I give up. I'm late for the show, I have no costume, the search is over.
On my way back to the church I'm thinking, "Oh, please don't let this put Joe in a tailspin! Please don't let it be so unnerving for him that it ruins his whole night. Oh, please, please, please!"
I get back, throw the flannel over Joe's back, and try to explain to him that his costume is lost, he has to wear this. While rolling up his sleeves, I try to assure him that he is going to do an amazing job, I have total confidence in him, and his new costume looks GREAT!
On with the show! I have the not-so-wonderful privilege of letting the audience know why we are starting 10 minutes late. There was no sense in saying something like, "Due to technical difficulties..." No, all that means is, "Hey! I was running late. The technical difficulty was my blow dryer." I had to tell the truth. A costume is missing and I'm not sure why.
Well, the show went fabulous. No one in the audience knew which costume was missing because the flannel I put Joe in looked perfect, perhaps even better. He did a fantastic job and I was so proud of how he was able to be flexible with the costume and still come out shining on stage. I love that kid!
Two weeks later I am cleaning up my office. I lift up a sweatshirt and...wait! What's that? No. It can't be. I looked under there! I picked up this same sweatshirt and looked under there!
There it was. The costume, finally out of hiding. Oh, thank goodness because it was slightly begged for and definitely borrowed.
However, I had some explaining to do to some parents...
Here's "Joe". He's the one in the flannel and broom.
(Thank you, "Joe's" parents, for letting me post this story. You have a great kid, there!)
Labels:
70's costume,
kids children,
music,
musical,
teacher
Sunday, November 8, 2009
What You Cannot NOT Talk About
What? Where am I? I don't recognize this place. Could it be...? OH! It's my blog! It's been so long I forgot what it looked like!
October is always incredibly busy for our family. I intentionally try not to schedule things in October because I know that every October is busy. The calendar starts out with only a couple birthday plans scribbled in and evolves into something that resembles my daughter's bedroom...stuff everywhere!
It was one incredibly fun month! We hosted lots of people in our home, including one weekend of some of our closest friends. As one of them (James) was getting ready to head out, he said to me,
"Rachael, if I didn't know you and had just met you 5 minutes ago, I would know that you are really into worship."
...which got me to thinking about this quiz I took about what you should be blogging about. "My Poor Husband" is not about worship and since the title, "My Poor Husband," seems like an odd title for a worship blog, I'm not intending for this blog to transform into a worship blog. This post will just be for fun. Besides, there are too many worship blogs out there for me to start a new one!
The quiz asks, "What can you not NOT talk about?"
The funny thing about James' comment is that I continually hold back from talking about it, most notably the music portion of worship. The subject tends to halt a naturally flowing conversation and it doesn't take long before people are looking for something to do instead of looking at me while they pretend to listen. Shoot, sometimes they don't even pretend and start talking to someone else or interrupt and completely change the subject! I guess that qualifies as something I cannot NOT talk about!
Music moves me. So deeply, in fact, that I am very careful about what I listen to. Every part of me is involved in the process of listening to music. My ears...obviously, but also my body as it instictively moves to the beat. (Actually, moving to the rhythm is a lot more fun!) My mind is thinking about the chords and how certain notes make that certain part of that song so...so...gosh, I don't know. That feeling you get so deep down inside your soul that you wish you could grab and hold onto it so tightly, yet you're afraid to let it out because you're not sure what might happen if you could actually look it in the face. It might make you cry without an end in sight. It might make you levitate as you dance across the room. It might make you so angry that you fear the wrath inside of you. Or it may physically knock you to the ground, searching for just a single word that you can offer to God to explain why it is you worship Him.
Yeah. THAT part of the song.
My mind is also pondering the words to the song and wondering what the author's meaning is behind the words.
And my heart is experiencing such a range of emotions. In one song I can feel energized, intrigued, sad, sappy, and dark. There is a happiness in even the darkest songs simply because I am feeling.
That's what music does to me.
Worship. That goes deeper.
...to be continued. That's probably enough to digest for one night.
October is always incredibly busy for our family. I intentionally try not to schedule things in October because I know that every October is busy. The calendar starts out with only a couple birthday plans scribbled in and evolves into something that resembles my daughter's bedroom...stuff everywhere!
It was one incredibly fun month! We hosted lots of people in our home, including one weekend of some of our closest friends. As one of them (James) was getting ready to head out, he said to me,
"Rachael, if I didn't know you and had just met you 5 minutes ago, I would know that you are really into worship."
...which got me to thinking about this quiz I took about what you should be blogging about. "My Poor Husband" is not about worship and since the title, "My Poor Husband," seems like an odd title for a worship blog, I'm not intending for this blog to transform into a worship blog. This post will just be for fun. Besides, there are too many worship blogs out there for me to start a new one!
The quiz asks, "What can you not NOT talk about?"
The funny thing about James' comment is that I continually hold back from talking about it, most notably the music portion of worship. The subject tends to halt a naturally flowing conversation and it doesn't take long before people are looking for something to do instead of looking at me while they pretend to listen. Shoot, sometimes they don't even pretend and start talking to someone else or interrupt and completely change the subject! I guess that qualifies as something I cannot NOT talk about!
Music moves me. So deeply, in fact, that I am very careful about what I listen to. Every part of me is involved in the process of listening to music. My ears...obviously, but also my body as it instictively moves to the beat. (Actually, moving to the rhythm is a lot more fun!) My mind is thinking about the chords and how certain notes make that certain part of that song so...so...gosh, I don't know. That feeling you get so deep down inside your soul that you wish you could grab and hold onto it so tightly, yet you're afraid to let it out because you're not sure what might happen if you could actually look it in the face. It might make you cry without an end in sight. It might make you levitate as you dance across the room. It might make you so angry that you fear the wrath inside of you. Or it may physically knock you to the ground, searching for just a single word that you can offer to God to explain why it is you worship Him.
Yeah. THAT part of the song.
My mind is also pondering the words to the song and wondering what the author's meaning is behind the words.
And my heart is experiencing such a range of emotions. In one song I can feel energized, intrigued, sad, sappy, and dark. There is a happiness in even the darkest songs simply because I am feeling.
That's what music does to me.
Worship. That goes deeper.
...to be continued. That's probably enough to digest for one night.
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