A couple of weeks ago, Scott said, “my boss invited us to dinner, do you want to go?” Since he never asks me to go to any social work functions and since I’m always up for a meal that I don’t have to cook I said “Sure”. As I was pacing back and forth yesterday, trying to decide what to wear to this dinner, how I was going to make it through a dinner long conversation on music, searching my brain for a way to get me out of this night, I finally decided that even though I had not had an intelligent conversation about classical music in the last 10 years, I was still an adult and could communicate with people…(don’t remind me that I communicate with children much better than with adults).
As the evening progressed, I discovered that not only was I dining with Scott’s boss and his wife, but many other couples from the Lincoln music world, as well as California film composer Bruce Broughton. As I smiled and nodded and listened to the conversations around me, I eventually pieced together that Scott’s quintet had played this man’s music this past week at a conference of sorts, and that Mr. Broughton would be having a meeting next week with the Oscar Awards people to discuss ways to improve the awards show. At this point I’m thinking of answering my cell phone, which is turned off, and excusing myself because the kids need me at home. But, since no one has directed any questions to me yet, and the woman next to me seemed to have an unending list of questions for the Emmy Award winning composer, I slowly took another sip of wine and returned to smiling and nodding.
As dinner is served and there is a lull in the conversation, Scott, who of course does not have a mouthful of food, continues talking music…I can’t recall how it happened, I was probably still engrossed in my thoughts about why I ordered long noodles and how I was going to keep them from drooling down my chin, when I heard “…and my wife is a musician”, followed by silence and about 10 eyes on me. I’m hoping that I still have a smile on my face as I slowly look up and say “I used to play piano, but I injured my arm and can’t play anymore”. That usually stops the conversation so I return to my noodles, presuming that I am done contributing to the discussion. Yet, I still felt eyes on me. I looked up to curious faces of musicians who are trying to process in a matter of seconds what it would be like to lose your abilities. I answered a few more questions, “yes, it was from overuse, no I’ll never be able to play again, yes we have 3 kids, yes they are gifted in music….”, and then dinner went on as normal with great conversations about music and travel and family.
I think what touched me the most last night was a conversation I had with the woman next to me. She wanted to know how I moved on…how could I go to a concert and not want to be on stage, how could I be proud of my husband and kids for their performances without being jealous? She had also faced physical problems that made it impossible for her to perform and she is still searching for contentment. I told her that it was very difficult for me for a long time. That people don’t understand what you go through, they don’t understand when you don’t want to play anything because what you hear in your head is not what comes out of your body. I told her I was a snob in college and that I never thought that I would want to be a teacher. But that I have found that I am really good at it and that I actually love it. God has shaped my life in ways that I couldn’t imagine when I was 18. I was not supposed to be in Lincoln, Nebraska teaching children how to use their gifts to praise God…but really, what else am I supposed to be doing?
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