The Mystery of the Lost Trombone

During the season of Lent, church tradition bans the word “Alleluia” during worship. Lent is a time of reflection and repentance. In choir rehearsals, however, we are already singing “Alleluia” in preparation for Easter. Not only that, but we are also rehearsing with the brass choir.

On Wednesdays during Lent, we go to church for a Lenten supper and worship. Ed has been meeting us at church after work, so I have the responsibility of bringing his trombone to church for rehearsal. He doesn’t want it to sit in the cold car because that affects the tuning of the trombone. This past Wednesday, I brought his trombone into the building and set it on the floor under the coat rack.

We went into the gym to eat Chicago style hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. (We eat well on Wednesdays!) After our worship, Ed went out by the coat rack to get his trombone for rehearsal. He came over to me, and said he found his music folder, but where was his trombone? I was a little irritated (as wives tend to be with husbands) as I told him it was right by his music. I mean, seriously, how could you not see a trombone?

I took him to the place where I had put his trombone AND IT WAS GONE!

Since our church also has a school, we thought maybe the band director had taken the trombone and put it somewhere safe. We ran all over the church and school looking for it, while our pastor made some phone calls. No one knew where Ed’s trombone has disappeared to. I finally took the girls home while Ed went to choir.

We hadn’t been home for long when the pastor called. Ed’s trombone was found…in the kitchen pantry! The after-school care teacher had thought it was a kid’s trombone, and put it in the pantry for safe keeping. What a relief! (Dare I say…Alleluia!) Pastor took the trombone to Ed and he was able to rehearse his brass piece with the choir.

Brass Choir

Easter is coming soon, and I think we’ll be ready!





Out From Behind the Screen

It didn’t even occur to me until the chorus concert was almost over. Why were all these other kids singing solos, and Lily wasn’t getting up to sing one? She had auditioned, and her music teacher has always given her a solo before.

As we were walking home after the concert, I asked Lily about it. She said, in a matter-of-fact way, that many of the soloists were fifth graders. Since this was their last chorus concert before moving on to middle school, they deserved to be chosen for the solo lines. It was okay with her because she had already had had a lot of solos.

This made me even more proud of her than I already was. She was content.

I was sitting behind a mom and a dad at the concert. Their daughter was in chorus for the first time and each had a camera in hand to videotape their daughter’s performance. The dad moved over to get a better shot of his daughter, and so I had to move over so I could see Lily. I was just glad there was an empty seat next to me!

I used to be them. I wanted to capture every moment of Lily’s ballet recitals on camera. It took me years to realize that I was watching her on the screen instead of using my eye to see her right there, in person, on the stage. I began to take less and less video. Last night, I took one picture. That was it.

Will I regret it in the future? Will I wish I had more videos to watch, to remind me of Lily’s performances? Maybe.

Last night, however, I was not looking for the right angle to hold my camera or fidgeting with the record and pause buttons. I was watching my daughter sing and smile and enjoy her concert.

She was content. And so was I.