Tighter Than a Drum

The timpani, gentle giant of the percussion section, the family timpani is an amazing part of the orchestra. You couldn't play Sergie Prokofiev's opus 67 "Peter and the Wolf" without them.
The symphonic unity of narration, folk story and symphonic familiarity all brought together with a good morale of friendship and courage.

The woodwinds predominating the characters of Sasha, Sonya and Ivan, and Grandfather of course, Peter is found within the soul of the united strings. And the wolf, oh the wolf. Four horns, menacing, fierce, loud and low - what horn player doesn't revel in the opportunity to be this perpetual bad guy. (Last year the Firelands Symphony played Peter and the Wolf, I was horn 3 this time.) You feel like you are coming from the shadows, reaching, slinking, preparing the pounce. This folk story winds its way through the realm of the orchestra, helping young and old be connected with the sounds and capabilities of each instrument - really music education at its best.

And then the audience arrives at the timpani. They signal the hunting party, the men who are seeking the wolf to protect the village. Battling, booming, using the full artillery through all drums.

The timpani.

The flexible head is stretched over the copper, enclosed within are the tension rods. These tension rods are able to be engaged and disengaged through a pedal rachet system or turned by hand on the outside surface of the body of the drum. They can be tuned, maintained through the pedal and rachet to range through different pitches. Timpani are used as a family, each tuned to different ranges, all managed through this racket and tension rod system managed through the pedals.

The timpani, man can I relate to the timpani. My heart feels tighter than a drum. Its been tightening for about 5 1/2 weeks as the schedule was coming closer and closer. The pitch of my life, my stability, my inner peace changing with each tightening of the tension rod, what I saw coming down the turnpike of my life.

The mothership of all schedule conflicts.

I used to believe I have seen them all when it came to schedule conflicts. An important orchestral gig presented on the day we had chosen for our wedding. Important evangelistic engagement falling on the due date of one of our children. (And my babies never came late - 2 exactly on their due date, 2 two weeks before their date...my babies didn't wait or make us wait). Educational timelines falling over family mainstays. Opera performances and orchestral performances, sermons and visitations. A funeral, a wedding and a city wide revival - three different states and originally three different dates, until...

...February 2007.

Our divisional ensembles - Neosa Brass and Timbrels - are embarking upon their tour through the southern U.S.states and it is a privilege to be able to play and sing with these musicians. My husband and I had been members (what a comfort to know he was there in the trombone section honking out the bass trombone part)together until November brought a devastating reality. Another group he is a member with, The Territorial Songsters, scheduled their recording session for their repertoire. The same exact days. In a state nowhere near the southern part of the U.S. Because of this conflict, he needed to end his membership with the ensemble this year (triple rats) and head for the balmy shores of Ellwood City PA and Slippery Rock Creek, a freezing tributary of the Beaver River. And the orchestra I play with has their performances on February 23-27. I will only be able to be at the dress rehearsal before performance.

The tension rods were moving, tightening it all.

That same November week T.s travel hockey team announced its tournament availability and included us in on our deepest family nightmare. The President's Weekend Tournament for the Pee Wees. The same weekend mom is on one side of the country and dad is stretched to another.

December brought the reality - N. has a wrestle meet, his most important one, in that same weekend.

Areyoukiddingme?

Is it going to work? Can we pull it off? The phone calls and scheduling began - we felt like Napoleon and his war sergeants, pouring over strategies and maps and alternative moves, plan b, plan c.

A light at the end of the tunnel - we all have them - school age children its June, the last day of school. For a bride, the wedding day. For a Ph.D. student, thesis acceptance and publication. For an adoptive parent, gotcha day. For me and Dave, the light at the end of the tunnel feels like a giant locomotive and painted on its side is February 15-20.

Adults to transport a. to b., (check) adults to care for child a.b.c.d.(check), directions and instructions (check). Someone to take care of the pulpit and Sunday services for the Sunday we will miss (check). T. can go with a different hockey family for the tournament (check) N. will wrestle in a different meet, maybe (maybe, oh please maybe)

But the tension rods of my heart were tightening more, the pitch of my peace being altered, changed.

Tighter and tighter - T's glucose numbers have been out of whack for two weeks, and this family he will be with have no experience with inulin pump therapy. Sure, I'll only be a cell phone call away - that is if I can be guaranteed of a cell where I am.

Tighter and tighter, the drum of my heart feels crowded by anxiety, not hypothetical or possible things which may happen, but real, legitimate, life-hanging-in-the-balance kind of things. Sure, he's been a Type I diabetic for 6 years now, he's confident of all the routines and maintenance he has to do. When he's high - what to do. When he's low - what to do. And still, he's 12, he's only 12. I see him challenged to pass up a cupcake or any sweet for that matter. Will he pull out a super-human level of self-control for these five days, to choose those broccoli spears instead of chocolate chip cookies? augh, I feel like the worst mother alive.

Tighter and tighter - I really love being able to be at T.'s games. We have really grown to love hockey. These families we have met have become closer friends through our involvement with them and their children. I hate to miss his games, I feel like the worst mother alive.

Tighter and tighter - N. has really shown a proficiency and love for wrestling. Sure he's only 46 pounds, but he uses every ounce of it to its greatest benefit. I can't believe he won't be with his team all because of my schedule. I feel like the worst mother alive.

Tighter and tighter - my sweet baboo has the flu. I need to help take care of him, my deepest call. I feel like the worst wife alive.

Tighter and tighter - A. needs to miss her piano lesson because we need to travel them to another county for grandma to watch them. Missing another day of school (double rats) I feel like the worst mother alive.

Tighter and tighter - K. is unable to go to a birthday party sleepover, scheduled this weekend (I feel like the worst mother alive)

Tighter and tighter - as we are closing up the T. Ave corps, the unbelievable drip-drip-drip from the hall. "No, please, no." Yes, there it is. We had a good freeze and everything was fine, but as all weather officianados will say, it needs to warm up to snow. Will this roof hold for the next five days? While we are both away?

Tighter and tighter - as we pass the C. Ave corps the snow drift is now up to the entire front door - will the plow company take care of what they are paid for? Before church on Sunday?

Tighter and tighter - the phone rings, and the retired officers who are in charge of Sunday's worship begin talking about what they will do when they need to cancel. Have we left this responsibility with someone who won't follow through with it?

The pitch of my heart feels nowhere near where it needs to be, altered and removed from its home pitch. The prayer of my heart, "O Lord, hold these days in Your hand and release these tensions from my heart."

I cannot cast these anxieties - they are tied to people who are precious to me. Yet release this dramatic amount of anxiety, yes I must. Prepared as best we can be, fulfilling every opportunity of preparation and dedication, I dedicate these concerns to God.

Thankful for the translation from the The Message, which calms my heart. I feel the tender and capable hand of God readjusting these tension rods around my heart, tuning me deeply inside His promise:
"So be content with who you are, and don't put on airs. God's strong hand is on you; He's in control of your time. Life carefree before God; He is most careful with you." I Peter 5:6-7

As a teenager, this verse was a memorization opportunity, one which was accompanied by a musical benefit of a nifty chorus which helps promote its memory stability for me. A simple, straight forward, rightatcha chance to hide God's word in my heart. But as a mother, wife, officer, pastor, it becomes the lifeline I have to what happens when the facts of life meet the facts of faith.

The capable hands of God return my heart to its tuned position, releasing the tension, lowering the pitch, relaxing life's hold on my heart.