Lift Up Your Hearts!

Our much-beloved Bishop of Central Florida, John Howe, retired this year.  The bishop-elect was Gregory O. Brewer, and Saturday was his service of consecration.  Choir members from all over the diocese were invited to participate in a massed choir for the event.  We almost missed it.

We had an event on Friday that took up half the afternoon and most of the evening, and a concert Saturday night.  The Consecration would take up most of the (all too short) waking hours in between.  Neither of us felt we had that kind of time and energy to spare.  But God has his ways of nudging the recalcitrant, and we gave in.  After all, had he not just brought us to this church, and hence this opportunity?¹  And when would we again have the opportunity to sing with such a large and excellent choir?

Before the big day, our choir had but one, two-hour rehearsal.  The music, much of it commissioned especially for the service, was difficult.  But it was fun, and we anticipated being able to lean on a large group of well-trained, well-rehearsed singers.  Our diocese has some large and fabulous choirs.

We've sung in many choirs, and many times have heard the refrain, "We must order new choir robes."  Never, however, has the action been so quick and efficient:  a month after my first choir rehearsal, our new robes were in hand.  It was perhaps a bit unfortunate that they arrived the day before the big Saturday event—just in time for me to pick them up from the church before heading out to our big Friday event.  Of course, they needed to be washed, dried, ironed, and in my case hemmed, so I was up until after midnight that night.²

All too soon we were awake again.  Lunches, robes, and music in hand, we trekked to First Baptist Orlando, where rehearsal began at 8:30.  On driving into the parking lot, my reaction was, "This isn't a church, it's a theme park."  They really missed a bet with the parking:  the sections should have had names, like Disney's "Pluto" and "Minnie"³ or Universal's "Jaws" and "Jurassic Park."  Can you imagine it?  Remember, your car is parked in Matthew 18.  First Baptist is a huge church, which is why the service was held there and not in any of the Episcopal churches in town.  (As the new bishop pointed out in his post-ordination comments, it was also symbolic of his hopes to be involved in many cooperative efforts with other Central Florida churches.)  We assembled in the choir room, with its jaw-dropping rack after rack of hanging robes, and its equally astonishing music library.  It must be wonderful to sing in such a choir every week.⁴

Rehearsal was GREAT.  The physical circumstances were a little difficult, as apparently the church was in the middle of some big production, for which an edifice had been built that divided the choir in two and completely covered the organ.  The organist could see and hear the conductor through a television monitor, but the communication was one-way only.  It led to some frustrating, and funny, moments.  But all in all it was a wonderful experience. How I've missed the whole "musical scene" we were so much a part of when our kids were younger.  I know musicians can be temperamental and hard to get along with at times, but they are a good example of how a community of those who have significant differences, and plenty of reasons not to get along with each other, can come together to accomplish great things.  In fact, I think that's a pretty good model of how the church should be.  Anyway, it felt great to be respected, and treated professionally, and to watch the real professionals at work.

We weren't coddled, nor led by the hand.  We were expected to know the music already; the purpose of rehearsal was to put all the parts—choir, soloist, instrumentalists, lighting, sound system—together.  Did I say above that we were hoping to "lean on a large group of well-trained, well-rehearsed singers"?  Well, er, hrmph.  Right.  Of course there were a few choirs that fit that description, but aside from them, we turned out to be one of the better-prepared choirs!  I had expected to lean, not to lead!  But it all worked out well, and one of the great pleasures of the day was the experience of making such great music with so little preparation.  Could it have been better?  Absolutely!  But it was good enough, it was very good, and the time/effort ratio was fantastic.  (That is, it was for us peons.  Some folks had obviously put in a lot of work.)

We'd both brought work to do during the "down times."  Ha!  We barely had time to swallow lunch, get robed, and say a few words to the friends who were there from all over the diocese.  We were back in our seats and ready to go by 12:30, thinking we were being good and early, as the time advertised for the beginning of the service was 1:00.  I do not know how that happened, but that time was everywhere, including the diocesan website and the live video stream.  If we had come only for the service, we would have walked in at 12;50, maybe 12:55.  And we would have missed a great deal, because things actually started at 12:30!

I doubt anyone reading this has the time and patience to sit through the videos below, so I'll indicate some of the high points with approximate time markers.  It was wonderful from start to finish, however, and quite moving to be part of it.  If the choir looks scared at some points, well, it's because we were!  Singing without adequate preparation requires concentration, and work!  Once, in rehearsal, we were singing about being glad, and the conductor pleaded, "Now, could you just manage to look glad?"  At one point in the Psalm, the camera even catches the soloist with that "Where are we?" look on her face.

What the video misses by starting with the procession is the organ prelude, the choir's anthem O Taste and See (Vaughan Williams); the youth choir's anthem I Sing a Song of the saints of God, which had a lovely flute part, played by the person who was elementary school music teacher for at least three of my regular readers; two hymns (Blessed Assurance and Amazing Grace); Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man; and an instrumental piece (Veni, Sancte Spiritus) written specifically for the occasion by Andrew Walker, who directed the choir most of the time (and was fantastic to work with).

Just to prove we were there :).  Janet and Stephan watched the live video stream, from Switzerland, and caught these screen shots.

(Click on the photos to enlarge.)

View of the church from the structure that divides the choir area.

Where you land if you back up too far while taking pictures.  That's not a baptistry, that's a swimming pool!

Here's the service bulletin (pdf).

Part 1of the service.

• 0:01:05 Anthem:  Let the People Praise You by Benjamin Lane and Michael Miller.  Probably the most difficult piece, but it's the one we worked on the most.  It was quite impressive once we got it all together.  In the middle, all the churches of the Diocese of Central Florida are named, praising God.
• 0:10:00 Sanctus (Peter Scholtes)
• 0:14:50 Motet:  Ubi Caritas by Peter Mathews
• 0:33:34 Recessional hymn:  A Mighty Fortress Is Our God
• 0:39:15 Postlude: Grand Choeur Dialogue (E. Gigout)

The service did a wonderful job of expressing the diversity of the Diocese.  Several different languages were spoken or sung, and many different styles of music contributed.  The only disappointment was the Communion music (between Ubi Caritas and the recessional).  It was contemporary Christian "praise music," and—difficult as this may be for those who know me to believe—I had been looking forward to joining in wholeheartedly.  It's far from my favorite worship music, but in this context it would have been joyful to sing, especially since several of the pieces were at least somewhat familiar.  But as it turned out, the choir was not expected to sing; that was left to the praise band.  We were invited to sing if we wanted to, but I soon gave up because:   (1) The speaker volume, which had been fine for the whole service, was for these songs cranked up to such a high level that I had to scramble for my earplugs, and if you've ever sung with earplugs in, you know that you hear your own voice much more than other singers, which is very uncomfortable when you don't know the song well and are trying to blend in.  (2) Some choir members were singing, but most had not been provided music and didn't know the songs, which contributed even more to my feeling that my voice was standing out.  (3)  Our choir director had thoughtfully found music for the songs when he realized that we didn't have it, but it was pretty much useless because the band didn't follow the music.  I don't think they even followed the bulletin; at least I know we didn't get to sing In Christ Alone, which I know well.  Anyway, even though it was a bit of a letdown from the choir seats, I heard that the Communion music went very well from the congregation's point of view.

If you watch to the end of the service, you'll see the oddest thing:  I think it's bad enough when people start talking and walking out before the postlude is finished, but in this case, they started tearing everything down in the middle of the final hymn, and were nearly done by the time the postlude even started.  Apparently we were working under a very tight time constraint from the Baptists, who needed the church back for their own event.

Any number of minor glitches aside, it was a glorious service and a wonderful experience.  In many ways it was like a wedding:  Those with positions of responsibility know all too well how many things went wrong, but to most people it is simply a beautiful event.

I'm really glad we didn't miss this one.

JoAnn Falletta, conductor
Elmar Oliveira, violin

John Callahan:  Pulsar (World Premiere)
Saint-Saëns: Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, op.61
Prokofiev: Symphony No. 5

Last night's Orlando Phil concert, the final for the season in our series (Classics), was certainly enjoyable, but through no fault of the excellent conductor, soloists, and orchestra, it came across, for me, as a little bland.  Listening to music performed cannot compare with making music oneself, and no mere concert can hope to compete with the experience of being part of a grand event, like the afternoon's Consecration of the Rev. Gregory O. Brewer as Fourth Bishop of Central Florida.  About that I will write much more, but I'm waiting for the complete service to be uploaded to YouTube. (Part 1 available now, if you want a preview, but most if not all of my readers will appreciate the effort I'm making to provide a guide to the very long service.)

A post about the OPO concert is in order, however, in order to say this:  Remember the name, John Callahan.  He's a piano student at Florida State University, and won the OPO's Young Composers Challenge in 2008 and 2009.  Pulsar was commissioned for the OPO by local musician and philanthropist Stephen Goldman, founder of the Young Composers Challenge.  I can't say that Pulsar made my heart sing the way the music of John Dupuis does, but even I can tell that Callahan is extremely talented and composes at another level altogether.

Osmo Vänskä, music director
Midori, violin

Brahms: Variations on a Theme of Joseph Haydn, op. 56a
Sibelius: Concerto for Violin in D minor, op. 47
Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, op. 67

Our Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra season tickets brought us a bonus:  last night's concert by the Minnesota Orchestra, featuring violinist Midori, now forty years old but with a 29-year professional career behind her.  Definitely worth going out on a Friday night for.  What's more, on a weekend when we must lose an hour, we gained a day, a psychological advantage at least as real as whatever people think we gain by fiddling with the clocks.  Since most of our concerts are on Saturday nights, today felt like Sunday—until we realized Sunday was still a day away!

Thanks to my sister, I have three Trader Joe's reusable grocery bags that would just love to be used at an actual Trader Joe's.  And now, at last, Florida has a Trader Joe's store!

But it's in Naples.  Granted, we really enjoyed our visit to that part of the state back in Novemeber, but I'm not one of the "Trader Joe's tourists" who are travelling hundreds of miles to the store.  There's a store opening soon in Sarasota, but that's still too far away.

Nonetheless, I have hope.  Now that the Florida border has been breached, can Orlando be far behind?

I note that the Naples store went in where a Borders bookstore went out.  We're getting a Michael's at our former Borders.  Not that Michael's is a bad idea, but there's already one nearby, and wouldn't it be fantastic to be able to walk to a Trader Joe's?  Oh well, I'll be happy enough for one within a 15-minute drive and not on the far side of town.

Tired of waiting for Netflix to offer anything beyond the second season of the Duggar family's TV show (they're now on Season Six), I discovered the Duggar Family blog, which despite the name is a fan blog, not run by any of the Duggars themselves.  Apparently with the blessing of host channel TLC, this site has links to all episodes from the first specials through Season Five!

Now this discovery bodes ill for my overflowing inboxes, my piles of files and files of piles, and my endless backlog of past-due work and future projects.  I had to figure out a way to redeem the time, and I did.  Because the videos are hosted on YouTube, each episode is divided into three parts of five to ten minutes each.  Not only does this slice them into manageable portions that can be squeezed into odd bits of time here and there, but it also suggested my new exercise plan:  I only allow myself to watch while exercising.  The anticipation of watching a show gets me started, the distraction of the show keeps me going until the end, and the exercise requirement sets a limit on how much I'll watch in a day.  I'm a very wimpy exerciser.  Some people can watch a whole movie while exercising; I'm doing well to manage eight minutes at at time.

It's a lot more fun to watch the shows guilt free, knowing I'm doing something healthful and productive!

I realized yesterday that—until September, anyway—all of our nephews are now teenagers.  And what a fine bunch of young men they are!

For six weeks in Switzerland I was the official dishwasher, and enjoyed it.  In my appliance hierarchy, a dishwasher ranks below a microwave; chiefly, I'm afraid, because without the latter it's a pain to heat up my cup of tea, which I'm forever leaving somewhere to get cold.  Nonetheless, I am inordinately thrilled by one of the first purchases we made upon my return: a Bosch dishwasher, not the top of the line but not the bottom, either.

Our old dishwasher (GE "Potscrubber 1200") didn't owe us a thing, having served us well for a quarter of a century.  The cost, spread over time and ignoring inflation, was less than $20 per year.

Does anyone expect an appliance to last 25 years anymore?  Believe it or not, the dishwasher was not our oldest appliance, either:  we've had our stove and freezer since 1977!  The freezer is as good as ever, if you don't count the cosmetic angle; the stove is limping somewhat, but all four burners, the oven, and the microwave still function well.  On the positive side, the short life of today's appliances makes one aspect of shopping easier:  if you decide you don't like what you bought, you don't have as much time to wait before getting another chance.

For the most part, I loathe shopping and the decision-making that goes with it.  Thankfully, my wonderful husband did the preliminary research while I was washing dishes overseas, so the remainder of the process was almost painless.  We went with the Bosch on our brother-in-law's recommendation—in his business, he learns a lot about such things—as well as for its German engineering.  That it was made in North Carolina is nice, too.  We bought it from Lowe's and were very pleased with the installer (who is also an amateur luthier, we discovered).  We've had the new machine for four days, and here are a few things I've noticed that are different from our previous dishwasher.

• It's much quieter.  We chose not to get the model with a delayed start option, because this is so quiet there's no need to wait to run it, even if you have company or are watching a movie.
• The cleaning process is much longer.  In this it is much like European clothes washers, which favor low water consumption over quick work.  So far it has not bothered me that it takes over two hours to wash the dishes.  There is an express (30-minute) cycle I can use if necessary.
• The default settings include an "I'm done, come unload me" set of five loud, nagging beeps, which repeat at intervals—I don't know for how long, as I've not yet been able to ignore it past two sets.  There's a way to turn the volume down, or off altogether, which I may resort to, as the beeps sound like an alarm clock, not what I want to hear at midnight when I'm deep in slumber.
• Ta-da!  I've saved the best for last:  The dishes get CLEAN!  For reasons unknown, our old dishwasher never really worked right after we returned from our two years in Boston.  We nursed it along—for years, really—trying one thing and another, with varying success, but finally threw in the towel.  Hence the new dishwasher.  Since the new models are designed to function better if you don't rinse the dishes first, I'm having to change my well-ingrained habit of getting them pretty much clean beforehand.  (To quote the Bosch rep, "It's a dishWASHER; let it do its job.")  We're still testing its limits, and marvelling at the clean dishes.

Here she is, the incredible Ashley Locheed!  On the right is some dude named Englebert Humperdinck.  (Not the composer of Hänsel und Gretel.)  The venue is in Singapore.

Today's Stone Soup:

Less on the Scrabble side, more on the Boggle side—when you have meals to fix and children to tend, long games don't work well—but this is my family!  I don't know Words with Friends; can anyone enlighten me?

From this distance, I find it difficult to remember what our children did when.  But today I delved back into past diaries, looking for information on when it was we bought our current dishwasher.  (More on that in a later post.)  Here is something amusing I found:

[Today] Janet had her kindergarten registration.  [The first grade aide] filled out [her] card, and when Janet not only knew her phone number and address with zip code, but also spelled "Wightman" for her, she said, "I guess you're ready for kindergarten!"

I had not remembered that Janet could spell her last name before going to kindergarten, I but I guess that when you have a name that everyone misspells, you learn to spell it early.  She would have heard her parents answering the "What is your name?" question enough times that for all I know she thought her name was really "Janet Wightman W-I-G-H-T-M-A-N"!

On Monday, Vivienne received the blessing of the Swiss government; today we travelled to the American Embassy in Bern for a simlar benediction from the United States.  As I did when Joseph was born, I came along to hold diaper bags and other items not allowed in the embassy, which includes purses (or bags of any sort) and cell phones (or electronics of any sort).  Fortunately, winter coats were acceptable, as were a couple of diapers stuffed in the pockets.

Really, it's a very un-welcoming experience, a visit to this little bit of American soil in Switzerland.  Embarrassing, when you think of the impression we are making on others.  (Okay, so Hollywood does a worse job, but at least they're not official.)  There is no waiting room, unless you count the small antechamber outside, where those waiting in line are subjected to the summer's heat or winter's cold—though a roof provides some protection from rain, if it isn't too windy.

But we were prepared.  Joseph and I were well-dressed, and had the stroller with us.  As soon as Vivienne and her parents passed through the security check, he and I started out on our adventure. (More)

I'll never convince a credit-card wielding American, but shopping with cash in a country like Switzerland is great!  I'll admit that I love the convenience of credit cards, mostly for online purchases, buying gas (drive in, swipe the card, pump, go), and the neatly organized monthly statements.  And, of course, never worrying about having enough cash at the grocery store.

That last is part of the problem.  With cash, I see the exact cost of what I'm buying.  There's something visceral about handing over the bills and coins.  The money I had, I no longer have.  And if I don't have enough, I have to put something back on the shelves and buy it later, or never.  I have no statistics to back up my assertion, but I'm absolutely certain that I spend more money, more freely, since we moved away from making most of our purchases with cash.

What's especially nice about using cash in Switzerland, however, is their system of coins and currency.  The smallest bill is the 10-franc note; coins come in 5-, 2-, 1 and 1/2-franc denominations, plus 20-, 10- and 5-rappen (cents).  Note that there is no 1-rappen coin.  This makes calculations very easy, especially since any taxes are hidden in the price of the item.  What you see is what you pay.  With only multiples of five to worry about, it's very easy to keep a running total of the cost of what's in my cart.  Therefore, before the checkout clerk has finished scanning my items, I know what the total is going to be, and with what combination of bills and coins I plan to pay.  And I know exactly how much change I should receive.

I find that extremely satisfying.  I'm not good enough with mental arithmetic to bother with it at home.  Let's see: 14.88 plus 5.54; that's uh, um, oh something more than $20.  Hmmm, should I buy orange juice at $3.99 or grapefruit at $3.85?  How much are tomatoes per pound today?  Do we need mayonnaise?  Oh, bother, I've forgotten the total.  And even if I remember it, I know that when the clerk is done ringing up my order, she's going to add an awkward 7% sales tax, but only to certain items, and I'm never sure just which ones.  So I meekly hand over my credit card and hope every part of the system is honest, accurate, and not broken down.

Cash - multples of five - clear pricing.  What an empowering combination!

There's some debate just what Emmen is.  Stephan says it's a suburb of Luzern, and I suppose it is, Luzern being a 15-minute bus ride, or an even shorter train ride, away, which we proved today when Vivienne acquired her Swiss passport.  But it hardly has a "suburban" feel, at least as I know suburbs.  For one thing, there's decent public transportation—but that's no doubt because it's Swiss.  For another, most people live in apartments, which says "city" to me, though Janet says that is also a Swiss characteristic, city or no.  There's traffic.  There's industry.  There are plenty of stores, but no strip malls (though there is a mall or two).  Everything is close together, and what yards there are, are tiny.  Children walk to school.  Janet walks to the grocery store (actually, several grocery stores), the train station, the above-mentioned malls, the swimming pool complex, and church.  That feels like a city to me.

And yet....  Emmen certainly isn't a city like Basel, or Luzern, with a lively city center, and centuries of history and culture.  And it has a rural feel, as well.  Also within easy walking distance is a long hiking trail along the river (pedestrian, bike, and also equestrian in most places).  The trail runs through wooded areas where trees are still being harvested by loggers.

(Switzerland is a great place for hiking trails.  There's one that leads all the way into the city of Luzern; we had planned to hike it today, but the -9 degree Celsius temperature was a deterrent.   Perhaps we should have taken advantage of such balmy weather, though:  tomorrow's high is supposed to be -10, with a wind chill of -16 (that's 3 degrees Fahrenheit).

There are also several small farms nearby.  One of Joseph's favorite walks is to the see the cows and goats at the nearest dairy farm, where for a single franc we pick up a liter of fresh, delicious, raw milk.  (Click on the pictures to enlarge.)

So, what is Emmen?  Whatever it is, it's like nothing in the United States that I know of.

Joseph has two different words for "spin."  One, pronounced "pin," refers to when he, himself, is spinning.  The other I haven't yet figured out how to transcribe, but it has two syllables and refers to spinning an object, like a top, a ball, a block, a coin.  Whether it's supposed to be one word, or a two-word command, the meaning is clear when he hands you an object:  "Spin it!"  You'd be surprised at how many items that are not tops can be made to spin. 

"Pin," on the other hand, can refer to being spun in someone's arms, or twirling himself around till he staggers with dizziness, or being spun on Mommy's office chair.  When he does the last sitting backwards and holding on to the seat back, it can be very fast, and produces an impressive postrotatory nystagmus.

He also likes this, sitting in his space capsule (backpack) and training for NASA.  The position makes up for the reduced rotational velocity.  At the end he is saying and signing, "more."

This was the first video, taken nearly two weeks ago to let Dad-o know that Joseph is thinking about him even though he isn't here with us.

We love you, Dad-o!