So Much for Calm, Quiet Mornings

I admit that I was dawdling this morning. I woke up long before I GOT up. My mind was hard at work, but my body was still at rest -- something I had dreamed about being able to do before I retired. After three solid weeks with a full calendar, this was a rare morning to just slowly fix a bite of breakfast, look over the grocery list (gotta get that senior discount at Publix on Wednesdays), and clip a few more coupons while still wearing my pajamas. Since I have committed to Reading the Bible Through this year, I have been disciplining myself to finishing the designated passage before turning on the computer. Toward The Word was where I was headed when the home land line rang.

When the home phone rings, I'm pretty sure it is either a telemarketer, someone from the church, or my sister-in-law. Today it was Barbara, the music secretary at our new church. It was 9:10 a.m. She said, "Connie, the regular pianist for the senior adult choir is sick. Could you possibly come and play for them this morning?" I said, "What time?" She said, "They start at 9:45." My first response was that it would be virtually impossible because I was pajama-clad and it takes 20-25 minutes to drive from my house, but my second thought was, "Well, I'll be a few minutes late, but I'll hurry."

I don't know any racing terms, but "putting it in high gear" comes to mind. Off went the pajamas, on went the shower cap (no time for shampooing), a quick rinse off (also no time for shaving my legs), then drying off while finding something decent to wear (decent being a very relative term). Bare minimum make-up and a little hair teasing were next, followed by putting in contacts (I can't wear my glasses while playing the piano -- long story for another day), brushing my teeth and applying lipstick. My mother trained me well. No daughter of Mildred Collier's would be caught dead without a noticeable amount of lipstick.

I grabbed up my grocery list, some scissors for clipping more coupons later, stacks of coupons, my glasses in case the contacts failed, and I bolted out the door. The clock in the car said 9:33 a.m.

The first thing I noticed was the brilliance of the day. The bright sunshine and the recent rains made all of the spring colors appear more stunning than ever. Green grass, yellow forsythia, white and pink dogwoods, and the diamonds sparkling on the river made me ever so glad that I was outside to see it all.

The car radio caught me up on the morning news, traffic, and weather, plus a few minutes of "Rick and Bubba" had me chuckling as I drove. I quickly found a parking place and rushed inside. When I walked into the choir room, spontaneous applause erupted. There sat a roomful of delightful people, happy to see me, and willing to take whatever amount of help I might be able to give them.

If you're not a musician, you probably don't understand what it means to sightread a folder full of music. So let's just say that my brain got a great workout for the next 45 minutes. These folks were working on some impressively challenging pieces of music. No 4-part, hymn-style music in 4/4 time for them. No, sir. These were selections they will be performing in a festival coming up next month with complicated rhythms, harmonies and melodies. And, they were SO AFFIRMING to me. I can't remember the last time I was encouraged and appreciated to such a degree. I am very sorry their normal pianist was sick, but I was glad to have this lift to my day. And the hugs when we finished were such a blessing. Several of these folks remembered my Momma and asked about my Dad. You just can't beat that.

With a fully-gratified heart, I went to the grocery store, sat in the parking lot to finish clipping coupons, saved $72.43 on my total bill, and drove home to find one of our neighbors going a few rounds in our yard with his lawnmower -- obviously realizing that ours must be broken (which it is) and Steve must be at work (which he is).

I don't know how a day can get much better, but here I am with a couple of hours before heading back to MY choir practice. I have time to put all the groceries away and tidy up the place. I have time to type out my thoughts about how my interrupted day turned out so much better than I could have planned. And, I have time to thank God for my new home, my new church, my new retirement opportunities, and the time to acknowledge how blessed I truly am.