when more than was lost has been found

when faces called flowers float out of the ground

and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-

-it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!

yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly

yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be

(yes the mountains are dancing together)

when every leaf opens without any sound

and wishing is having and having is giving-

but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense

-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!

now the pretty birds hover so she and so he

now the little fish quiver so you and so i

(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)

when more than was lost has been found has been found

and having is giving and giving is living-

but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing

-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!

all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky

all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea

(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)

~ee cummings

Recently I encountered this poem in the form of a song at my friend Emily's voice lesson. I sat at the piano while she and her teacher talked about some things not involving me, and read the text--over and over and over. I kept returning to "keeping is darkness and winter and cringing". Keeping? Is that how I should try to explain my state of being over the past who-knows-how-many years? Keeping? Holding. Hording. Controlling. In the words of cummings, Downward. Doubting. Never. [pause for breath and reflection...] Doting and Nothing and Nonsense. Keeping. Trying to take care of myself, by myself. Not trusting that Someone Else has offered to do it for me.

Perhaps it struck me at this particular moment more deeply than it otherwise would have, because I had recently felt a corner change somewhere in the deepest part of my being--an arrival in a new place. A place that felt like the opposite of keeping--a place of breathing-wishing-having-giving-living. A place where more than what was lost was indeed found--a place that involves trusting God instead of trying so hard to figure out how to please Him, how to get the answers right, how to keep myself safe [doting. nothing. nonsense. replaced with day, life, breath, found].

I've been thinking of this poem because--well, it's april (my darling!). But I've also been thinking about it because it's an important weekend for any follower of Christ.

Tonight I walked the steps of Christ--from communion at the last supper to the tomb--in a meaningfully symbolic portrayal set up throughout the building used by my Church. I watched the wine spread through the bread I dipped in it, in anticipation of the blood that was about to flow. I stood in the garden of gethsemane, and wondered at the depth of the darkness and at the vision it would have taken to know how to walk out of it. I sat in Peter's dark night of the soul, and remembered what it was like to deny--to question if this was the Person I thought I knew, to wonder if He is worthy of standing up for after all, not knowing who to believe; to feel betrayed by the turn of events, yet understanding deeply that it is I who am betraying, not knowing what to do. I looked at my thumb covered in red ink that I couldn't wipe clean, and couldn't get away from the taste of vinegar on my tongue and in the back of my throat. I tentatively leaned a 96 lb. cross on my back, and got out from under it before it got close to uncomfortable. I looked at criminals hanging next to Christ, and wondered who it is that I see as criminals hanging near me? Who do I write off--unlike Christ--while I go about my life focused on the weight I think I bear? I sat next to a giant cross and listed all of the ways I miss the mark--all of the sin that fuels my days. And then I picked up a hammer and nailed the list to that cross with finality, because the cross made the mark that took it all away. It is finished.

I don't have to try and keep anything anymore.

All that I thought I'd lost is Found.

And when Jesus said that faith could move mountains? I believe those mountains are dancing.

A Flair-ful Friend, a Flair-ful Life

I have a friend, her name is Heather. Our friendship consists of stealing every moment we can when we can, because life is busy and children are needy and there's always something pressing. Recently Heather began writing her own blog, which is wildly overdue since she is a superb (not to mention, professional) writer. Her theme is Living with Flair, and every day she is on the watch for something that counts. Her Flair journey has resulted in a daily awareness of all there is to celebrate in life, and I am grateful to be on her journey with her. Today that journey became even more intertwined when I became her flair for the day (an honor up there with her daughter telling me I'm a better babysitter than God...). Since my blog is about celebrating the life I've been given, I figured there was a place here for her thoughts--especially since she's already done the work of documenting the best part of my day. So check it out:

http://livewithflair.blogspot.com/2010/03/15-minutes-of-flair.html

Celebrate Flair with us ;-)

Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'...

See this wee little piano player? That would be me at the tender age of 17 months, surrounded by my music-making aunts.


Little did anyone know that my early fascination with the piano would turn me into a cruising 30 something, but I have just returned from the following itinerary:


Last Saturday my good friend Kristen and I met in Harrisburg to give a workshop entitled Ragtime: Where Did it Come From and How Can I Get Some? to some eager high school pianists. We got some ragtime alright, and after a long day rolled ourselves back to Kristen's house in Princeton. Her Ben made us dinner, we went downtown for Halo Pub ice cream, and then we crashed into bed because....


we had to wake at 3 am to catch a flight to New Mexico for the Music Teacher's National Association Conference. Unfortunately (for reasons not worth going into here) I caught the flight but poor Kristen did not. Hence, our beautiful traveling-together plans fell apart, and hence I rose into the sky before the sun without her. It's ok, however, because she made it in time for us to order this delectable Sante Fe Chicken pizza smothered in chiles. ("When in New Mexico, eat chiles" is what I always say....)


She also made it in time for a cocktail party thrown in honor of our dear piano professor by the woman making a documentary about Ingrid's life and teaching. We love Ingrid, and we love to honor her because she is truly inspirational. We and some other Westminster-ites (present and previous) surrounded her for this picture,


and then supported her at her lecture the next day. She was--as always--fun to watch in action. I got to re-live my grad school grad-assistant days by being assigned the "water-table-mover" job, and found myself on stage moving a rather large and bulky table holding a potentially tipsy bottle of water and a cup every time there was a scene change.
I also found myself in tears while Ingrid played a piece written especially for her by a good friend--played entirely with the right hand, because Ingrid had a stroke 3 years ago and lost movement in her left. She is working hard (and showed us her wiggling fingers to prove it) but to us who know and love her, it was extremely moving to watch her play knowing the battle she has fought with courage and typical aplomb. I, for one, was a mess--as was much of the audience.

It was ok though, because then it was time for lunch! To save money, Kristen & I devised a plan that involved a complicated shuffling of food through airports and convention centers, as well as some rather ingenious methods of vegetable cutting.

The end result was a salad to beat all salads, seen being served here by my good friend from Penn State, Yu-Chen, who joined us in New Mexico (enter Yu-Chen, and enter worlds collide....)

The rest of the day was spent finding out what is going on the world of piano pedagogy at a variety of sessions, and getting given TONS of free music and teaching materials (gotta love that!).

Then we decided it was time to play, and were rolled over to Old Town by our phenomenal hotel shuttle driver, who took time to take us on a tour of a typical Albuquerque neighborhood as well. I realized I could never live in any of the houses I was shown, because the doors were only as high as my shoulder. (Sigh...)


We walked around and took in the sights. We went into this beautiful old church, and Yu-Chen washed her hands with the holy water. I. was. dying-from-laughter. Ah, Yu-Chen.

All our lunch money saving payed off, and we were able to browse the jewelry laid out for sale by some native new mexicans,

as well as enjoy a delectable dinner at the Church St. Cafe recommended to us by our driver as the best food in town (so insistently in fact that we suspect he was getting a cut of some sort, though he denied it when asked.)

We then continued around town, getting into trouble and pretending we fit right in.

Altogether, a fun night with fun ladies...

The next day I absorbed as much piano pedagogy information and free stuff as possible, and then my trusty driver picked me up and rolled me to the airport for the rest of my journey. (Yes. There is more.)

But first. A brief diversion for one of my favorite aspects of my trip:

The shelf above the toilet for bag and baggage.

Seriously, why is Dallas airport ahead of the rest of the world on this?!?!?

Anyway. I arrived back in philly late, and wandered around the airport parking lot convinced that I knew where my car was. I was wrong. I finally found it, and then rolled myself over to the Baxters, who I had warned that if they waited up for me I would be very upset. Hence, this was the sign waiting to greet me:

Poor Simon. But, it meant that Andrea got to stay home from work/school-bringing and we had some (brief!!) time to chat and catch up on life the next morning. It was only brief, however, because my day was not yet done.


I needed to be on my way, and drive the 6 hours to Franklin PA where the choir I accompany was scheduled to perform. I made it in plenty of time for my piece of the rehearsal, and we were treated to a good church dinner before we performed in this beautiful space. Our evening was finished out by a stay at a local lady's home, and I left this morning for my own home sweet home.

The conclusion of the story is that this wee little fascinated-with-piano-and-all-things-related girl is tired and rolling herself toward a good long nap!

"Dear": A definition

Dictionary.com says that the word "dear" can mean (amongst other things)

"precious in one's regard; cherished".

I understand this meaning, and felt it deeply this weekend as I spent time with precious harrisburgian friends, cherishing every moment and wishing it could be longer.

It made me wish that this obsolete definition was back in style:

"difficult to get; scarce"

because my friends are not only dear to me--

I understand that I am blessed beyond measure.

The Past Calls Me Forward

This past weekend found me traveling to Princeton to give a Saturday Seminar at Westminster Choir College on the history of the piano. The piano's past is intriguing, and much more complicated than most people know (this is often the case in life I'm finding...). I presented with my dear friend Kristen, and so I personally am grateful to the piano for changing so much since I love Kristen, and I love working with her. It gave us an excuse to see each other when otherwise we would not.

It also gave me an excuse to re-trace my life steps. You see, in order to get to Princeton from State College, one must travel through Harrisburg. In backward order then: State College, Harrisburg, Princeton. In frontward order: Lauren's life.

This re-tracing felt especially meaningful this time around and here's why: I feel like my life of the past 10 years chewed me up and spit me out here in State College, and I woke up one morning not knowing how I got here or why.

In an effort to keep my head above water I just kept going, but I felt like I was constantly stepping on pieces of myself that were laying around my feet, not entirely sure how they'd gotten there. The past year has involved putting back together some of the pieces that were worth keeping, and getting rid for good those that should never have been there in the first place.

My life-journey-in-backward-order was meaningful because it was a final step in my healing process; it allowed me to re-visit the essence of the girl that I was in those places and to remember the things that were important to me then that I had forgotten since. As I sat in peaceful prayer and reflection in my car, driving down roads I knew well and had driven many times before, I picked up some pieces that I want to take with me. I found in the Past some of the things I still want to call me Forward. And I left the rest behind.

I drove past my old house in Princeton and saw John Nash (of A Beautiful Mind) getting his mail next door, saw the grocery store down the street I used to walk to on Sunday afternoons, saw the pizza shop a few doors down that we'd get garlic knots from. I smelled the smells of the buildings at Westminster, and played the piano in Williamson Hall again for the first time in years. I saw my beloved piano professor, and met up with a woman I adore from the church I attended there at a high school musical that both her daughter and Kristen's sister were performing in.

Some other goodies I found in the past were a bit more superficial: Halo Farm ice cream, the mexican restaurant on the other side of the tracks that only real princetonians know about, witherspoon bread company and their ridiculous chocolate brioche.

I drank in memories. I found them to be good.

After leaving Kristen and her lovely husband Ben on Sunday morning, I drove north for a down-home meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes at my parent's house with them and Keith & Marisa, a trip to the hospital to see my Grandmother (who is fine, but in for some tests...), and back to mom & dads for a game and dessert involving Cool-Whip. The evening found me sleepily curled on the couch watching Pinocchio next to my mother while my father ate his Sunday night bowl of cereal. I felt safe and warm, loved.

I left this morning, got taylor ham & egg on an everything bagel at the bagel store down the street with a giant cup of coffee, and hopped on Route 80 feeling like it's time to move forward. I'm ready. The only question that remains is--ready for what? I guess we'll see ;-)

Jewelry in the Afternoon

I have a theory. Ok--if you know me at all, you know I have about 900 theories. This particular theory I am speaking of, however, is applicable to what I'm about to write about, whereas the other eight-hundred-and-ninety-nine are not. So.

The theory is the Beautiful Things Are Good For Your Soul Theory.

In case you are not familiar with it, the category of "Beautiful Things" encompasses curtains, clothing, good friends, and JEWELRY.

That would be why, recently, I found myself gathering some of my fellow women into my home. Ok--really it was my land-lady's living room and not my very own home; my personal dwelling could accommodate perhaps a gathering of ladybugs, but not a group of grown adults, which is what we all were. Hence, the lovely Pam opened her door and gathered these lovely ladies into it, along with a few tables of jewelry, a table full of yummy snacks (if I do say so myself), hot cider, and our personal jewelry lady: Connie.

Connie knows her jewelry, and proceeded to apply it to my neck. I did not complain. It turns out my neck has an affinity for jewels. (Who knew? I will be sure to pay attention to this from now on...)

Then, everyone got in on the action, for you cannot be surrounded by tables of beautiful jewelry and sit still for long. There was much touching and trying, much oohing and ah-ing.

I recommend it to everyone.

(Notice the smiles, and reflect on the Theory: indeed good for the soul.)

By the end of the afternoon, I felt honored that these ladies had chosen to spend their time with me, I felt loved by their presence in my life, and I felt refreshed by the beautiful things surrounding me (I am not merely speaking of jewels here, though they certainly didn't hurt my state of being...)

It was a good afternoon.

Par-tay, the Chinese New Year Way

Recently the Chinese New Year came along--and subsequently passed right by we hard working music department penn staters.

Our Taiwanese members could not allow such an occasion to miss us, and so tonight--though this semester is determined to remind me that I am humanly capable of only so much, and though the last Thursday night of the month is one of the only nights I actually have to go home and drown on my couch and/or take care of my life--I fluffed my hair, painted my face, and gathered together with my friends and colleagues in a sea of red clothing and/or accessories.

We did some good eatin'

(oh how those tawainese girls can cook...).

We made our own dumplings

(oh how folding dumplings I can not...).

We played some traditional games, like writing a resolution and putting it in a basket for someone else to guess the owner. If you get guessed, you have to hula-hoop 3 times in a row. This year I played it safe: "I will learn to play the guitar". (Last year I said "I will not be so cranky" and got guessed right away.) There was no hula-hooping in my fortune for tonight, I am happy to report, though certain people tried to peg "I will find a man I can be happy with" and "I will not work so hard" on me. (I am finally learning to keep things simple, a strategy I'm liking more and more, particularly when it gets me out of hula-hooping...)

We gambled a bit.
We guessed riddles, and received lottery cards if we got the answers right.

(I got my answer right, but sadly my lottery card was faulty. There will be no trip to someplace exotic and/or a brand new wardrobe for me this year...)

We made signs that said "Spring" on them, to hang on our doors and to wish winter-be-gone with (I made 12 of them....)

And, when all was said and done:

The question one must ask oneself when one is tired and not feeling all that social is, how do you say no to such precious friends when they want to celebrate their heritage with you? And the answer is--you don't. You par-tay, the Chinese New Year way. And you have great fun while you're at it!