I'm going to begin with a disclaimer: I'm not sure if this really counts as a Memory Stone / Stone From Memory Lane post, but I wanted to note it because its anniversary recently came up (and as part of my weirdness, the date in question occurred on a Sunday, and it fell on a Sunday once again this year). Perhaps I'm only writing about this at all because I've never told this story, and as a musician on the side I want to try to get out as many stories that I can think of.
To put this into context, this is really my first concert of original works, ever. It was framed as my senior composition recital in college, because, well, it was required in order to graduate. I remember prior to my final semester there, the other B.M. Theory-Composition majors in my class and I (I think there were four of us in total) were perusing the calendar and we were debating for ourselves when would be the best for each of us to have our recitals. After all, these things required a lot of planning and preparation, including but not limited to: arranging the set list, finishing composing pieces that my composition advisor and I agreed should be part of the concert, getting people to perform the various roles (mine included twelve choir members, three solo singers (all tenors), a trumpeter, a vibraphonist, a violist, a double bassist, a flautist, a horn player, three different conductors, and yes, even another pianist), setting up rehearsals, treating all my performers to a pizza party (since I didn't have funds to pay them directly), submitting all the program notes to the music department to create the programs, and of course, inviting people to come (email, Facebook, posting flyers across the music department, my dorm hall, and maybe even across the common areas of the main part of the school).
[In retrospect, it's kind of funny looking at it now, especially after the two-year run of concerts at Uncommon Ground almost a decade later, and how it felt so different the first time vs. every subsequent time afterward.]
The options were dwindling. The last half of March was a no-go because of spring break, and for some reason April was largely out (perhaps because the recital hall was already booked for other engagements??). May, however, was still a possibility. I remember one of my fellow Comp major friends stating that May would be tough because any concert that month would run up against graduation as well as any other commitments (he happened to be doubling as a Music Ed major in addition to Theory-Comp). Although he ended up having his recital in May, knowing full well that it would be an exceedingly hectic month for him, I took his advice and scheduled mine at the beginning of March, as did one of my other classmates, who held hers a week after mine.
The concert went OK, all things considered. During the two weeks leading up to it (which would have been the end of February), just about every person who agreed to perform at my recital caught the flu bug, especially the choir folks. I even started coming down with it the day or so before the recital and was almost in question whether I would be able to make it let alone play the one piece I agreed to perform. (And I did. I adopted the Michael Jordan mentality that must've been required of him during the infamous Food Poisoning Game during the 1997 NBA Finals and pulled it off. Praise God.)
The other notable thing of that event was that my family came up, including both parents, my one living grandparent, and his sister (my great aunt). Photos from that day reveal that it was an awkward affair overall, as not everyone was on great terms with one another. But it was still a step up from what was reality the rest of the time. People did come to see me and to be part of this event, which included for some traveling hundreds of miles, and that counts.
After I graduated, I mailed out my first unofficial CD of original works. (This was not "Fading Purple Sky" which was released on my Bandcamp page in 2010.) It was an interesting mishmash of tracks, including all pieces from this concert (I remixed one of the pieces that I had written a couple years prior and had recordings of several different takes that I cut and paste together), as well as live tracks of three piano solo compositions I had previously composed and recorded, and ... I'm not sure what else was on that CD. I sent it out to about 15 people that either were close friends or folks I had recently been in conversation about creating CDs to send out in which they had requested a copy. And with the final mailing of those CDs, I think I finally was able to admit that yes, college was over and life was onto its next chapter, whatever that was going to be.
The other major thought that came up as I reflected on this anniversary was with the present realization of how my faith journey progressed during my time in school. It was not good. I began college hungry for a church and for a thriving community. I found one, only to run into some issues halfway down the pipe with some folks that proved irreconcilable. The second half of my time in school (and beyond) was marked by backsliding, first from a group that was on fire for God and His Word to a nominal church, and then from that to no church and eventually no faith at all. This concert took place after I had stopped going to church altogether. I was hanging out with non-believers, and at the time I honestly thought that this was the best thing for me. It was not. I think my takeaway from this at this point is just to note that, without committing to Christ and getting to know Him more (and spending more and more time with Him), of course I would backslide. Anyone would, unfortunately. And while there was grace for a time (after college, I worked for AmeriCorps for a year), eventually things in my life would need to be shaken up in order for me to consider rejoining a true faith community again.
God is good -- we know that. We also know He answers prayers. What I'm starting to realize is that, for me to have backslidden the way that I did during that time, only for me to actually wind up with another chance, in another community of faith, is that someone had to have been praying for me for God to move. To this day, I have no idea who that might have been, humanly speaking, but, I do have a Bible verse that will suffice for answering the question: who was praying for me?
Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God. Romans 8:26-27, NKJV
The Holy Spirit was praying for me. It was He who told me the word, "Faith" on the darkest night of my life and most certainly the darkest night during that fateful final season in Minnesota.
I've been learning more lately about what "pray without ceasing" means, and what it means when the Holy Spirit constantly prays for us. For one thing, He prays without ceasing, and for another, because He does, it takes the pressure off me to try to constantly motivate / force myself to pray, as this has been a longtime struggle of mine. Prayer is simply talking with God as a friend (not complaining, mind you, and most definitely not mental-shadowboxing). It may involve praise. It will often consist of praying Scriptures back to God, a practice I've added to my devotional and prayer time this year. I'll have to devote a different post to this topic altogether, but I've been finding that praying several of the Psalms and other Psalm-like passages of Scripture (sometimes they get copied over into 1st / 2nd Samuel and / or 1st / 2nd Chronicles, etc.) are wonderful ways to spend time with God in prayer.
I don't know when my last day on earth will be. Sometimes I think it may be soon, and sometimes I think it may be quite a ways away. The Bible makes clear that God knows the number of our days, just like He knows the number of hairs on our head:
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
A time to be born,
And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck what is planted;
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.
As such, He instructs us to number our days:
So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Praise God, I have been growing in wisdom, especially lately. I just now need to grow in obedience and not backslide like I did in college. There were some incredibly challenging times, insurmountable even, but He did get me through them. Whatever I may face now or in the near future, it's going to be me and Him, but Him first.
