A view from the sky tram in Jasper on a family holiday
A few years ago, our church group was preparing to hold a talent show. I was on the planning committee and received an email from Kelly as a protest response to the announcement asking us each to think of something to contribute. With her permission, I am going to share some of it with you. I found it quite enlightening. The title is Kelly's. If you read to the end, I think you may agree that this young woman has talents worth emulating. Note: (Anything below in brackets is mine.)
Kelly begins: “So today everyone has been encouraged to think of something to contribute to the talent show. I have no (artistic?) talents!!! Its not that I come from a family that is short on talent, I was brought up in a home where my mother was and still is a wonderful cook, sewer, quilter, homemaker. I have a sister who is an artist and has an eye for drawing and putting together a wonderful home. She made it big in the hairdressing world as a top stylist. So what is my talent? It’s not that I have not looked or worked at getting one. I have taken music lessons. I have tried various sports without any real success. ….. The only lessons that I considered a benefit to my life was the Red Cross First Aid Course, all the rest just showed me how untalented I truly am.” (She goes on naming many areas in which she saw herself as less than stellar.) She continues: “I do have talents, as everyone has them, but I cannot show them to you ….. My talents are such that one can not see them right away, but trust me they do serve me well. I do know how to work hard even though I do try to keep that a secret. ….. But the talent that I have, has kept my family together through some horrific times. With my talent I have taught my children how to hold their head up in times when all is going wrong. I have a strong survival instinct that has served me well. You can understand why I do not show my talent for all to see. I have rebuilt my life more than once with my talent. With a huge love for my Heavenly Father, I have gone to him in times of need. He and I have worked together and with his help I have been able to raise 3 children on my own. I have taught my children by doing, praying and working at being there. Yes, I do have talents, but they are hard to see. But I have not hidden them, it’s just that they are ones that most do not understand being a talent. I have a testimony that has saved my life; given me the strength to carry on when all looked so bleak. Love for life. Survival during time of need. I have a talent of finding the strength to carry on when is not well. I have a talent of living a good life, one of hard work with not much time to think of what talent I need to work on as I do not have a talent that one can show case. But I do have talents and they have served me well.” ......................................... It is interesting that by mistake, Kelly first sent me a copy of her resume. It was quite impressive. Her abilities are something quite a few of us wouldn't even think to attempt. She certainly could have displayed it and felt good about it. Thanks, Kelly for reminding us that there are many talents other than the artistic ones we often showcase. We are all diverse. Isn't it wonderful?
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Setting: The supper table “Darin, do you love me?” asked his twelve-year-old brother. “Yes” replied Darin, “I love you”. “No matter what I do, will you still love me?” Everyone stopped eating. Now he had the attention of not just twenty-six-year-old Darin, but the rest of the family around the supper table. “Yes, I will still love you, no matter what you do.” "Even if I borrowed your t-shirt without asking and I tore a hole in it, will you still love me?” “Yes, I will still love you”. He paused and with a mischievous grin added, “But, I will have to kill you”. . Oh dear, what on earth is this?” I don’t know when I first saw it, but our Junior High School son now had his hair stiffened into sharp spikes all over his head, a popular style among some of his peers. “Hold on, Mother (me)” I said to myself, “Don’t be too quick to respond until you know what to say.” A hundred thoughts raced through my head, including will people wonder what kind of a mother he had to let him go out of the house looking like that. Although a hair style like this might not be that noticeable today, at the time, it was a unexpected departure from what was generally viewed to be normal. Popular wisdom suggested that it was best to ignore behavior that might be attention seeking. Then, perhaps it would go away. Maybe, this would apply to hairstyles too. I kept silent on the matter for several weeks, maybe even a month. I was quite pleased with myself for being so patient. One afternoon, quite by accident, I came across the picture of him taken in the hospital, the day after he was born. A thoughtful nurse had nicely combed and parted his hair for the occasion. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. I put it in my pocket and waited. It didn’t take long before he arrived home from school, spiked hair and all. I approached him, holding the picture in my hand calling him by name, “Who would have thought that this (pointing to his picture), would turn out like this (pointing to his hair)?” He never skipped a beat, but reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the newborn picture of his older brother, who looked like he had just been stuck by lightning. “Then, what did you expect from this?" He always did like a good joke, and I think this was one of his best. I wonder how much longer he would have waited with his brother’s picture ready if I hadn’t come across his baby picture. I never can accuse him of being boring.
And yes, since I can tell you are probably wondering, if I remember correctly, the hairstyle didn’t completely disappear right away, but it did immediately modify. NOTE: I just now wondered, did I really come across his baby picture by accident, or did he plant it where it would be found? The Piano Takes a Detour
Grandpa Waldner’s piano had been given to us at a time, when I had a great longing for a piano in our home. We had been trying to purchase one without success. My longings turned to prayer. When my parents sold their house and moved, they no longer had room for the piano. It was offered to us and we took it home. We enjoyed having a piano, as two of our sons took lessons, and our current toddler often climbed up on the stool and produced his own concertos. The introductory measures of “Star Wars” filled the room repeatedly as one of our sons diligently worked to learn the piece. I enjoyed sitting down and playing on and on, until I was satisfied. There was a connection that I enjoyed both with the wonderful harmonies that issued forth, but also with the feel of the keys pressing under my fingertips. It stirred my soul. Sometimes, if I was having a challenging day, I would work out my frustrations at the keyboard, but not so gently these times. It was a surprise to me, when one day, as I walked across the living room in front of it, I got the strong impression that I was to give it away to someone. Upon examining our circumstances, I realized there had been a change. We had purchased an electronic keyboard and were no longer using the piano as much. Now the challenge was to find out who was to have it. It took me a year. I asked around in the family and no one seemed to know who was wanting a piano. At a family reunion, I found a match, when I talked to our niece, Dawn. When I asked her if she would like a piano, tears came to her eyes. I recognized similar longings to those I felt, before we received the piano. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mother or even Grandpa and Grandma Waldner had played any part in seeing that their piano would serve better somewhere else at this time. Bruce, her husband, came up with a truck and another family member, to transport it to their home. Just as they were desperately trying to get it through the front door, a young neighbor and his roommate were walking by our house. They offered to lend their strength and the piano was quickly loaded and on its way to enrich the lives of the Comfort family It stayed there, until a few years later, when Bruce phoned. They were moving into his parent’s home and there was already a piano there. He wanted to know how I felt about passing the piano on to young marrieds, Kelvin and Natalie. Natalie was going to university and at the same time was teaching herself to play the piano. It would really help if she had a piano. Again, the piano changed homes to another nephew and niece of ours. A year or so later, I was wondering about the piano and thinking that it would be nice to have it again, but assumed it might continue making the rounds. About the same time, Kelvin called me. Natalie was graduating from university and he was buying her a new piano (Way to go, Kelvin). Grandpa’s piano was coming back to us. Its detour was complete, at least, until further notice from above. Written Dec 2005 NOTE: Although our prayers are address to God, I believe He often answers using those around us and both parties are blessed. I also believe our loved ones, who have passed on, have a concern for our best interests. I once heard them referred to as our “Heavenly Fan Club”. That sounds good to me. Mother playing the piano at our house , It is amazing how a single decision can have a significant impact on a family - influencing generations. Grandpa Waldner (my mom's dad) wanted a piano for his family. Karn Piano Co. began building pianos in the late 1880s. It may have been somewhere in the early 1900s that Grandpa's piano came into being. He ordered the one made of a rich, reddish-brown mahogany with a scrollwork design. It must have been a source of much excitement as this beautiful upright grand joined his family in their small home. Instead of a bench, it had a four-legged, claw-foot stool with an adjustable height seat. The seat was mounted on a threaded shaft. You could raise or lower it by spinning the seat, which many young children over the years have been most eager to do. I can imagine that family members enjoyed the music the piano brought into their home. Mom's sister Sarah, who was six years older than my mom, took lessons and taught her to play.
When Mom married and had a family of her own, our farm was close to Grandpa's - only a mile and a half away (about two and a half kilometers). The piano was a musical magnet that drew everyone to Grandpa's house. Cousins who lived close by would walk over to our house, pick up my older brothers and sisters (I may not have been born yet) and they all would continue on to Grandpa's. They enjoyed each other's company and had a musical feast as well - singing and playing. Sometimes our sister, Grace would chord while others sang. Grandpa’s son, Joe used to play the saxophone. He must have learned some piano too as he taught my sister, Joyce the piano chords and she chorded along as he played his sax. Music was much a part of our family's lives and the piano seemed almost like another member of the extended family. One of the beauties of a piano is that it is very versatile. This one proved its versatility in a very unusual way. The bottom panel in front of the sound board could be taken off (In fact the whole piano comes apart as we later found out - See note below). It was the perfect place to store something you wanted to keep away from others. Grandpa kept some homemade wine in the bottom. On at least one occasion, he gave young Joyce a small taste. Later, when I came into the picture and was old enough to reach the keys, I had a chance to take a turn playing when there weren't too many people around. Grandma would usually invite me to play softer. For some reason unknown to me at the time, people weren’t thrilled when I used the loudness pedal to enhance my creations. Being of preschool age, I really had to stretch for my toes to reach it too. Uninhibited by formal training, I explored the many possibilities of its keys, delighted with the emerging sounds and the feel of the ivories yielding beneath my fingers. Some fifteen years or so later we had long since moved away. The piano was purchased from Joe (who now owned the piano) and shipped to my parent's home after the one they owned was destroyed in a house fire in 1962. After a costly restoration, it settled into its new home and back into our hearts. Occasionally Mother would play hymns on it. By now most of my siblings were married and had children. Whenever there was a large family gathering, we would love to sing, usually in four-part harmony. It was often our sister-in-law, Audrey at the piano accompanying us. My dad would sing along or tap his foot in rhythm as we played. Sometimes our sister Norma would chord. When we were there, I loved to sit down on the stool and play. It felt wonderful to be reunited with an old childhood friend. By now a third generation of children were starting to enjoy it, including spinning the stool. One time, when I was playing, one of our boys asked me to teach him a song. All we could find for music was a hymnbook. He had some familiarity with notes from music classes at school, so I wrote the note names in crayon on the keys and pencilled their names in the book. Within an hour, he was playing the melody with my dad tapping along. After this, my dad was relentless in insisting we needed a piano of our own. When my parents sold their home, the family gathered for a reunion. When they offered Grandpa's piano to us, I was thrilled. My husband was less excited. It was very windy that weekend and he was the one who had to haul it the three hour trip home. I remember my mom saying to him, “I am giving you my prized possession. Find a way to take it home.” We rented a trailer to pull behind our car. Because of the reunion, there were lots of brothers and brothers-in-law to join in hoisting the piano up inside and we were off. It was a very long, tiresome trip with the wind pushing against the sides of the trailer, making it difficult to keep it steady. We were very thankful and relieved when we arrived home safely. It was welcomed into our home as not only a much-wanted piano, but a bit of history and heritage as well. It has stayed with us until today; except for the time it took a little detour. But that is another story. Now it is introduced to still another generation as our grandchildren play on it. Before it is finished, it will have quite a few tales to tell, if only it could talk. ................................................................. Note: When we first had the piano at our house, my husband and I took it all apart to check and clean it. We had it spread out in pieces all over the living room floor. I am so glad we were able to get it all put back together properly. |
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