With expecting it to be a relatively slow morning, I ended up being on the go from the time I pulled out of my driveway, and my first stop before arrival at office, was to drop off around fifty half-pint jars of fruit preserves I’d decided to gift to St. Paul Lutheran which they’ll have set out during the Easter Brunch they’re having after their Services. I told them to either offer them as free items, or possibly ask for a donation toward whatever fund drive they have going on. I’d given a few members jars of it before, which they all later raved about, so I figured those jars would be well received.
After I had that taken care of, I headed to office and got all the online news read, and then made a quick run over to my bank before I had to head over and show a home, and fortunately I managed to get there before the prospect arrived, just so I could get all the lights turned on and doors unlocked. The showing went well, so hopefully I’ll be hearing some good news on Monday.
By the time I arrived back at office, it was approaching the hour I had to be over at First Congregational Church to play for a funeral, so I grabbed my folio of music and headed over. To my surprise, there were a number of cars already in the parking lot, so I braced myself for a large crowd. I went in the back way, just so I wouldn’t be interrupting the people standing there visiting, and headed over to their grand piano and got it set up to play.
I soon discovered why they wanted me to play for a long period, because they had a very long voice-less video of memorable photos which were taken from the time of the decedent’s marriage, and going forward up until before death. I was ever-thankful I brought along at least twenty or more hymns which I played more quietly with reverence. By the time the funeral actually started, I discovered I’d been playing for a good hour non-stop. Now that was a workout I wasn’t expecting, but for whatever reason, it all sounded about as good as it could get.
After the funeral was over, the pastor insisted I go down into their dining hall and have lunch, which I did. While standing in line, several people including the daughter of the decedent, came up to me and soulfully thanked me for playing, but what ruffled my feathers a bit, was later when one of the members of a church I used to play at a great number of years, came up to me and said, “Why are you no longer playing the piano and organ at our church?”, which sounded more like a chastisement rather than a question, so I took a deep breath and replied, “After my mother passed, over a two-plus year period, I sent three messages to ‘the powers’ saying I was willing to play one or two Sundays a month for them, and for whatever reason, I didn’t even get one reply, so it’s not on me, but rather on them.” He was more than surprised by my answer, and after a moment he said, “I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.”, and then he walked off with his wife under arm.
Of course the whole table I was seated at ended up hearing my conversation, so I quietly mentioned I was simply sharing an un-revealed side. Little does the music circle in that church I played at know, even if they ask me to come back and play for them, I’ll have to turn them down because I now have every Sunday of the year committed to three various churches in our city. I’m really not expecting a belated invitation from them, and if there is, I’ll have to tell them I’d only be available for funerals, and of course that would be a cold day in ‘H’ because the accompanists all love to get those fat checks for playing at funerals. Yes, even in our religious communities, we find the god almighty dollar taking precedence. If you’re wondering if I miss playing over there, I’d have to say at this time, I really don’t because I’ve come to believe it’s all part of a past life. I know in my heart, my dear deceased mother would be giving me her blessing on my decision to play for other churches. When you stop to think about it, we all pray to the same god. Right?
The remainder of my day was spent working out in my garden, and today’s chore, was to get my wicked-thorned black raspberry patch readied for an even larger crop than last year. Yes, I did have my thorn-proof leather gloves on, along with wearing my denim jacket, just to keep from being sliced by one of their razor-sharp thorns. It took longer than I was expecting, but by the time I finished up, it was looking pretty darned good. I do have about a dozen ‘babies’ I’ll be digging up an adding to the existing row. Without question, they’re definitely more work, but the jam from them is superb.
Tonight’s One-liner is: Love is like a faucet, it turns on and off.
