COVID Captures April

Indoor camping

First online worship night playlist

My dad accidentally found himself on FB live and gave me such a good laugh the boys thought something was wrong. 

Time for Instagram shenanigans. 

He is the sweetest. 

Except when he’s not and then he has to sit in the corner and he’s so stubborn he sits for over an hour without budging. 

But then he’s the SWEETEST again. 

This picture kind of wraps up a lot of feelings about April.

Too much sugar on Palm Sunday

Happy Easter from our couch. Watching the service online. 

Bunny house Easter craft

Nerd hopscotch

Easter hike 

"Alfred! I. Am. That. Hero!"

My childhood had a soundtrack. With two classically-trained parents, that's probably no surprise. But the music I heard wasn't typically that of Shostakovich or Bach. It was that of the Alfred piano series. My mom has always held a piano studio of several dozen students trickling through our house each week. There are seven levels in the traditional Alfred series--1A (orange), 1B (green), 2 (brown), 3 (yellow), 4 (pink), 5 (blue), and 6 (gold). If a student completes the entire set of levels they are playing Fur Elise and simple sonatinas on their own and ready to delve into more challenging classical music. I finished the Alfred series in record time (I think I was 9), partly because my mom is a piano teacher and largely because I knew how every song went before I ever tried it for myself.

I know the Alfred series inside and out. I know, without looking, every time signature, key, 8va, repeat sign, and introductory concept. I know which pieces get checked off in one week and which take upwards of a month ("Glow Worm" anyone?). I can tell, two floors away, when and where a student will mess up before they even get there. I have mentally assessed lessons my mom was teaching a room away and accurately guessed what their next week's assignment was without ever hearing a word exchanged. I say all of this not to brag--merely to demonstrate how omnipresent those songs were in my house.

Perhaps you could have guessed this, but I really don't like the Alfred series anymore. I've had my fill, and then some, many times over. But I use it with my small piano studio because it's easy to teach, kids do well with it, and it requires zero advanced-lesson planning on my part. I'm sure if I had more than a couple of students I would look elsewhere for fresher material, but, until then...

Enter COVID-19 and the age of Zoom, Facetime, and Google Hangout lessons. Enter inconsistent connections and double the ambient noises. Enter cooped-up kids and a teacher who no longer can see their music when they play.

Turns out I've been preparing for this my entire life.

I sat lazily on my couch yesterday, sipping a cup of coffee, watching a brother and sister plow through their piano assignments on my phone. I can't see much beyond their torso and part of a left hand. (And occasionally their 3 year old sister, who keeps sneaking in and sticking her head in front of the camera.) 

"OK Micah--so let's go back to the third line, second measure. Look carefully at the second beat in your left hand. That note isn't a D. What is it? ... Very good!" Let's pick up at the start of that measure and keep going."

"Nice job overall Lydia! I love how you played with stylistic articulation and took the repeats throughout. Let's try the B section again and this time don't forget the 8va in the right hand."

"Now, before we sightread this let's remember that the left hand actually begins in the treble clef, so double check that you have it in the correct position!"

I logged out after an hour and turned to Roy, who was arranging yet another movie score next to me. "Sometimes I impress myself." He smiled (and inwardly rolled his eyes I'm sure).

It's worth noting that this is, for all other intents and purposes, a useless skill--this total memorization and fluency with Sir Alfred. So...thanks coronavirus (?) for giving me pretty much the one chance to make use of it.

Covid Contagion

I read a really good book this past week called The Dreamers. It's a book about a novel virus infiltrating a small town in California, causing its victims to fall asleep and, in best case scenarios, stay asleep for weeks on end. Many pass away. The eerie similarities to our current situation couldn't be overlooked, down to the conspiracy theories, social distancing, and supply-hoarding. I didn't mean to read this book in the middle of a pandemic...

...but I did mean to watch the movie Contagion with Roy last night. I had heard a podcast with Katie Couric (sidenote: her "Next Question" podcast is really really good) interviewing some of the viral specialists and movie producers as they reflected back on the making of the 2011 movie in light of COVID-19. I didn't even really know about the film, nor did I understand how much they researched the likelihood ("if, not when") of such a viral pandemic. They wanted the movie to be factual and largely unembellished in the storytelling.

It was bizarre to watch this gripping, horrifying tale and feel yourself so grounded in it. Things that needed to be explained in the film for the sake of the uninformed viewer, that are everyday realities today. Still, there were some particularly violent scenes regarding looting and robberies that made me pause and offer thanks that it hasn't been like that. People have been patient, generous, and kind whenever I've been in public settings. I like to think that maybe this is bringing out the best in humanity.

Today I left the house with my antibacterial wipes, my hand sanitizer, and my newest acquisition: a construction mask. (Thanks Roy.) With the federal government now recommending masks be work in public I decided it was a good idea to begin implementation. I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before Aldi opened, thankful that it wasn't packed out already, and put on my mask. It's a lot harder to look friendly when everyone is wearing masks. Those already in line were quiet, but it felt almost too quiet. I offered a cheery "good morning" to the woman closest to me in an effort to lighten the mood.

At about two minutes before 9 a white dude my age spoke in a full, bold voice for everyone in the parking lot to hear. "OK guys! I just want to make sure we're all good! Nobody's going to rush the door when they open it right? We've got this all under control??"

There were a few halfhearted chuckles. I thought he was trying to be funny (although he was no comedian) and the others kind of shrugged it off too. But he kept going...

"Guys! Seriously! We're not all going to rush the door right? This needs to be a single line. Because we have to stay SIX FEET APART!."

A few of us exchanged nervous glances at each other above our masks. We were six feet apart, just fanned out by the entrance.

"Why aren't you all in a single line?!? I swear guys, if I have to jump over any of you to get inside I'll take off my mask and start coughing on all of you!"

An African American woman near me started to sass him, "What you talking about? You're crazy. You're probably the one who's actually got it too."

A nervous murmuring broke out. At that point an older guy, who had been standing quietly to my left, turned around and it all hit the fan. Excuse my language here, but I really do want to record these experiences...

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!! WE ARE ALL DOING FINE AND YOU JUST HAD TO OPEN YOUR STUPID MOUTH AND RUIN IT! WE ARE ALL FINE AND YOU ARE AN INCREDIBLE ASSHOLE! SHUT UP!!!!!"

A lot more nervous murmuring.

An older, very zen lady cast worried glances at everyone. "We're all OK everyone. God is with us. Prayers for peace." She flashed two gloved hands-worth of peace signs.

Mercifully, the store manager (who is a tiny woman who can't weigh more than 105--I would have preferred a bouncer at that moment) unlocked the door. The first customer in line spoke softly to her and pointed furtively at the originator of the ridiculousness. The manager cast a glance back at him and watched with caution as we entered. We entered calmly, as we always do. I watched the cougher enter in and then dart off in the general direction of paper goods. I veered my cart in the opposite direction and didn't see him again.

Whatever. It was fine. We were all safe and, the really weird thing is, there's been more food in the stores the past two weeks than the two before that. But, as I continue to reflect, two things strike me:

1. I came down with an awful tension headache a couple of hours later, so it proved more stressful than I assessed.

2. It terrified me how rapidly the situation escalated. Like, a group of people who looked perfectly calm and patient became antsy, rude, and flat-out belligerent at the drop of a hat. That made Contagion feel a lot more real than it already did.

Take care out there friends. <flashes gloved peace signs>

COVID Captures: March

The first puzzle we completed, minus the top-center, inevitably-missing piece. 

Felix and I have spent a lot of time snuggling and humming together on the couch.

The line at Aldi a week ago.

This is me not wanting to get in that line.

Weirdest game I've ever won.

Owen found major beaver evidence on a hike.

Any activity will do these days.

Felix watching Frozen 2. I'm a little bit with him--didn't really care for this one.

Peruvian pesto face.

FaceTiming with Livi.

Time to actually paint pretty nails.

I can't tell you how many people have sent me this. Haha guys.

8 poached eggs for eggs benedict Sunday.

But maybe not right now.

Happy boy and his Big George.

The Orange Shoes of Pearce Church livestream fame.

Zoom piano lesson in our jammies.

Justice is sweet.

Owen climbing the hedge in the backyard.

In my Easter Sunday outfit recording a month ahead of time. I am absolutely exhausted in this shot after numerous days of recording and constantly having to be spot-on pianistically/vocally. We got this done less than 24 hours before the governor invoked quarantine.

Smith family Zoom hangout, in which I suffered an allergy attack. Sorry for all the sneezing guys. I promise, it was just allergies!!!

Ways I Accidentally Prepared for COVID-19

• Had the treadmill serviced a week before things got real.
• Replaced the battery in Roy's cell phone the same weekend we got the treadmill worked on.
• Didn't try too hard to fall in love with Parks and Rec before March 2020.
• Gave my husband a reason to use Finale for some church work and inadvertently reinvigorated his zeal for arranging.
• Planned a worship night at church centered on the theme of compassion--printed and rehearsed a dozen songs in preparation. Didn't get to do the worship night, but recorded most of those songs under the gun for the next month-plus of services, in a time when compassion is essential.
• Recently bought fresh running shoes.
• Replaced my broken Kindle immediately instead of waiting a month.
• Am already experienced at using the e-book system with our library.
• Love to cook and bake.
• Have an electronic piano that has a record function and doesn't go out of tune.
• Have a mother who is a pro at giving lessons via Skype.
• I already cut everyone's hair.

Today I started The Project that has been on the bucket list for years and I just haven't been able to commit to. Sourdough starter is in the kitchen. If all goes according to plan we may have our first loaf by Sunday. Fingers crossed!

Church today

This morning we worshiped at home. I read a few Bible stories to the boys from The Jesus Storybook Bible as I heard Roy tuning into his pastor's sermon from another room. Then Felix and I snuggled up and tuned into the prerecorded service we put together at Pearce. It is very odd to not be at church. It is odder still to "worship via computer." It's oddest yet to "worship with your prerecorded self via computer."

I was pleased with the uptick in quality from an audio standpoint this week. Our voices sounded more blended, which meant I sounded a lot less like a buzz saw. The band blend was pretty nice too. I tried hard to actually participate with the music, prayers, and sermon, but it's also a bit like watching a movie you acted in for the first time. I was easily distracted.

Here we are! (This was recorded on Monday night I think.)

I wasn't the only one. Soon I got texts from my fellow worship director, Jessie. We agreed that the quality was better this week. Then she said, "I didn't realize that by wearing black and sitting near the piano I'd look like a floating head."

Of course I didn't notice this. Nobody notices those funny things that stick out to you when you see/hear yourself recorded. I didn't notice Jessie the Floating Head because all I could see were Julie's Bright Orange Shoes, which they promised wouldn't be in the shot.

(Traditional from the waist up, contemporary from the waist down...) Of course Jessie hadn't noticed my shoes, and we laughed together at our self absorption. The important thing was, of course, that we had worked together to put together a nice finished product. And people were singing with us in their homes and wasn't that nice? Then my phone pinged:

"Our daily bread"--a new reality

Today I went grocery shopping. I had been putting it off as long as possible, after a rather chaotic experience last Saturday and hearing horror stories of empty shelves and limited supplies. I planned a pretty basic menu for next week and went over the list a few times even before standing in the pre-opening line. I wanted to have a plan to get the essentials as quickly as possible and then circle back for fresher items. Every second counts when there are 100 people in line...

(Side note: does menu planning go out the window if you can't find eggs, flour, or other staples? I haven't given up on it just yet. I intend to flex my substitution muscles for the immediate future.)

Between Aldi and Wegmans I located just about everything on my list. Aldi was out of flour, eggs, and sugar, but they had oatmeal and rice. Wegmans supplied me the last bag of flour in the store and a dozen eggs. I came home and, with even more gratitude than usual, unpacked our sustenance for the next week.

I was grateful for the money to be able to pay a little extra for the organic eggs since the regulars were gone. I was grateful for the time to get to the store early and wait in line to have early pick of the stock. I was grateful for a husband who could stay home with the boys and let me focus singularly on the task at hand. And I was grateful for disinfectant wipes and antibacterial soap upon my return!

I came across this article recently and it was sobering, to say the least: https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2020/03/20/if-coronavirus-doesnt-get-us-starvation-will-growing-number-americans-say-they-cant-afford-stock-up-groceries/. In brief summary, there are many, many people in our country who, due to government assistance, weren't able to "stock up" ahead of time, or don't have the flexibility to get to stores when they are freshly re-stocked. They're completely beholden to the mailman, the check, and whatever is left behind for them at stores for them to glean.

It made me think of that prayer that is on our minds a bit more lately, "give us this day our daily bread." We know there are people in our country who can't afford food. But now we also have people who can afford it, they just can't afford it whenever they want and are faced with next to nothing by the time they get to the grocery store. We pray for all of those who face harsh uncertainties of hunger due to the spread of COVID-19.

But, my fortunate friends, maybe we need to practice "give us this day our daily bread" more too. There is something that just doesn't set right with me when I see photos of people proudly displaying their storehouses of canned goods and toilet paper. Of bottled water and sacks of flour. What if God is able to give us our daily bread each time we go to the store? If we were willing to rely on Him a little more and our doomsday tendencies a little less we might be blessed. We might realize in new ways that He makes good on His promises, every morning. And while we are learning that we can also bless those people who can only shop every now and then, and with limited resources.

I could have bought 8 bags of rice today. I could have purchased 12 canisters of oatmeal. But I didn't, because it would have cleared the shelf. (I did take the last bag of flour...it's a journey, OK?!)

I haven't sorted all of this out yet, but I keep coming back to the promises of God. That He cares for us more than the sparrow, that we should ask Him faithfully for our daily bread, and that He will supply all our needs.

"Tis to sweet to trust in Jesus--just to rest upon His promise--oh for grace to trust Him more."