Jubilate

I am going to take a moment to diverge from the exciting California adventures to go into something a little more pertinent. For that, I'm going to have to explain what a Jubilate is. It's a song that is sometimes based upon Psalm 100. It refers to a "song of praise." I find that exceptionally fitting for today.

Psalm 100 is called a psalm "for giving grateful praise," and it reads as follows:

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth. 
Worship the LORD with gladness;
come before him with jorful songs. 
Know that the LORD is God. 
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture. 

Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise,
give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations. 

Today is my brother's one year "heart anniversary." Exactly one year ago today he had his heart transplant. If that isn't a reason to give praise, than I'm really not sure what is. Today is a day for Jubilate. For giving thanks to God for the gift of my brother, for the gift that we have been given on his life.

Of course, there is another side to the story, one that brings much grief, and mourning. That is the story of the donor family, to whom we are forever indebted. I don't know them, nor are we even allowed to know whether their child was a boy or a girl at this point and time. But their child saved the life of my brother.

I don't know how to go about praising God with my Jubilate, and knowing by the same token that more of a dirge is being sung by them. I just pray that they know the goodness of God, and the appreciation that we have for them. My Mom constantly says that in the midst of their pain they gave a beautiful gift, and I just pray that they are blessed beyond measure for that.

I feel weird trying to continue on with my story from California, though I suppose it is not just my story, but my brother's as well. And my family's. It's a story of what he was able to experience because of what the family was able to do. But I can't bring myself. I am just thankful today. Just playing a Jubilate and a Dirge. Mourning and Praising.

That's all for today. Please remember the donor family with me in prayer, and please known the depth of my thankfulness. God is so good.

--Trumpet Player

    

G.P

The G.P is the Grand Pause. This indication serves the same function as a rest, or fermata--sort of. When written the G.P indicates that there is to be a Grand, General, or Grosse Pause, wherein the instruments fall silent for a period of time that is to the Conductors discretion. A Grand Pause generally is a direction for the entire band, and creates a very dramatic effect where all music suddenly stops...and then proceeds once again.

I am going to take a moment here to diverge from my "typical form", where I would proceed to explain the details of my life and how they pertain to the G.P, and I am going to tell you a story that my Conductor once told me.

Once upon a time, within the bass section of the concert band where my Conductor plays, there was a man who played (I believe it was) a Euphonium. Written onto his score was the dramatic, G.P, and he found himself asking the person beside him what the G.P meant. Of course, he had not seen it written in his score before, and why should he? A Grand Pause is not to be used on a whim, it is to be used sparingly so that the jarring, shock value of it, should not be attributed to routine.

This Euphonium's partner was all to quick to inform him that the G.P stood for "Guns and Pistols" and was a direction to play as loud as humanly possible, with no particular pattern or order.

Shall I say that when the Euphonium reached this G.P he was surprised to find that he was the only one who blasted out his notes, at the top of his "Euphonium lungs." It was a humorous moment for the rest of the band, indeed, but one that likely marked that Euphonium with embarrassment for the rest of his career!

Okay, so maybe that's taking it a little to far. It was a good natured prank, and it serves as a story they my Conductor will no doubt tell for years to come.

Perhaps you believe that this is some sort of lead in to my life story, and the reason why I have attributed the title of G.P to today's post.

You would be mistaken.

The reason I chose the G.P as the musical term for today is because of the long, Conductor imposed G.P, that has dominated my blogging experience for the past week and a half.

Of course, exciting this have happened, planes, and dragons, people with the ability to manifest Starbucks at will; dramatic encounters with warriors from mythical lands, and artists with the flair for the socially awkward and adorable.

That will have to wait though.

The G.P. Oh yes, the reason why I have been unable to share with you these experiences! It seems rather mundane in the scheme of things, but still, I have decided to give it the title of my blog post because it has been so darn frustrating that I am unable to overlook it until I have told you about it!

I left on a plane on December fifteenth for California. This, in and of itself, became a reason that accessing the internet was difficult. That, followed by a week long stay in the sunny state, caused a Grand Pause in my blogging endeavour. Now, I know what you're thinking. "You have left much longer lapses in time between posts, and you're expecting me to believe that you would have been blogging on a vacation to California?" Well no, I was not anticipating to blog while on my trip, but I had every intention of writing down every exciting adventure all but the second we touched down back in the blustery neighbourhood of mine. And what did I find, the day I turned on my wonderful Chromebook, and prepared to detail my account?

A Grand Pause, imposed by the great Conductor of our internet provider. Our internet has been down for the past few days, and to my great frustration! I checked, again and again, if I could blog. All of the excitement, welling up inside of me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dramatic. I know.

But today I checked, and lo and behold! Internet! I don't know what happened that I can now use it, but I have been checking my school website for updates and marks, checking my Facebook account for messages and important notifications (if there are such things), and then, BLOG! I am frantically typing to try and get it done before the internet decides that it does not want to work any more, and I am left with a half finished blog post, and an immense amount of aggravation.

So okay, here we go. The Grand Pause is finished, the silence is broken! No I can share with you the exciting adventure that has been the International Trumpet Player's Family Vacation! (Anyone. Anyone?)

As I told you before, my little brother, roughly a year ago, had a heart transplant. While he was in critical condition with the Left Ventricle Assist Device, and shortly after his stroke I believe, he was given a "wish." There is a foundation that offers children who are sick, and in need, a "wish." Want to meet your favourite hockey player, or travel across the world? Want to own the newest video game system and all of it's games? This foundation will get it done, and make sure they go above and beyond to make the wish come true. It's really an amazing thing, and I am in awe of what they do.

Well my brother's wish was to go to Disneyland (which partnered with the Children's Wish Foundation more than two decades ago, because so many children's wishes were to go to Disneyland). Not only did the foundation send him, but the entire family as well, even the adult child who still lives inside the house. Me!

I'm going to level with you for a second. I had never been to Disneyland before, and I was of the mind that it was for little kids, and I had missed my chance. I did not understand! I did not know! It's so amazing, so magical, it made me feel like a kid! I will promptly eat my hat, because it was one of the most incredible experiences I have possibly ever had. And the thing was, it wasn't even my trip! It was my brother's, and still I am blown away, awed, and amazed!

Okay okay, let's just start at the beginning and let the story happen in a chronological order so that perhaps it will be somewhat coherent for you.

December fifteenth, two am. The alarm clock goes off, and me and my sister spring (or perhaps more accurately, roll) out of bed after an early night the day before. We were already dressed in the clothes that we needed to be in, hair already (sort of) done, and make-up already smudged from the night before. We grabbed our carry on luggage, and found our way upstairs.

Freezing rain covered the roads, and we very slowly made our way towards the airport so that we could get ready for our flight.

A lot of waiting, security, and a Starbucks Chai Latte later, we were on the plane! We left freezing rain, and arrived in beautiful weather, with palm trees swaying in the wind. It was a drastic contrast, but one that none of us were complaining about in the slightest!

We grabbed a rental car, with a bit of confusion, and me and my sister sang the opening theme to "The OC" and squealed with delight at every street sign, or billboard that mentioned "Newport."

We went looking for Newport beach at first, because we didn't have any plans set up for the first day in California, but that turned out to be a bit of a bust. We got lost, confused, and found ourselves staring at a port full of yachts and not any kind of large body of water, or beach like area. That didn't dampen our spirits though! We got on the Interstate and headed to our hotel! Our rooms weren't ready when we got there, so we milled about, the kids watched TV, me and my sister got a tea. When we got out room, we hit the bed, and lazed around, and didn't do a whole lot of anything. We had pizza for supper, and then showered, and got ready to say "Hello Disneyland" the next day!

I have to say, the first day at Disneyland was overwhelming. That made it no less amazing, it was just a lot to take in. There were so many people, and so many things to do. We rode the train probably twenty times (because my brother loves trains, and that was basically what he wanted to do.) We checked out some stores, I bought some buttons because I love buttons (like pin on buttons, not the kind you find on your shirt) and we went on the Finding Nemo ride. It was pretty darn cool!

We found TomorrowLand, and my brother did the "Jedi Training Academy" attraction that they had there. It was so cool! I mean, at first, it seemed alright. The kids get to swing around a toy lightsaber, directed by some people who were dressed up pretty fantastically as Jedi masters. But then, I couldn't believe my eyes, but Storm Troopers came blazing out of the crowd, waving their guns as the stage in the middle of the Jedi arena began to rise out of the ground! It was Darth Vader! Then, Darth Mal jumps out of nowhere and the kids have to use the skills they learned to battle them!

Darth Mal was so scary! Me and my sister (being nineteen and seventeen) were too scared to even take pictures of him because he kept looking at us when he walked by and it was terrifying! Honestly, they did the make-up so good that I am utterly convinced that Darth Mal must actually be real. Except not. But you know what I'm trying to get at.

I must take a moment and apologize for my poor story telling capability today. I am overwhelmed with the amount of information that there is to relay to you and I am trying to breeze through it as fast as humanely possible, and it's hard to accurately describe detail to you while I'm blazing through my story. I fear that if I slow down though, one of two things will happen. I will have a thirty seven page blog post that no one ever will be willing to read, or the internet will quit working and I'll be left sputtering in front of my laptop with another unwanted Grand Pause on my hands.

But alas, on I must trudge. This is a harder task than I had imagined it would be, and while it is still fun and exciting to relay to you, it also is beginning to feel a bit like a daunting chore. I was gone for a week and I haven't even relayed the whole first day to you! Perhaps I will have to divide an conquer, telling you as much as I can now, and cross my fingers and hope that the internet will work tomorrow for me to finish my tale off. We shall have to see what happens I suppose.

Alright. Onwards!

My brother then got to meet Darth Mal, Darth Vader, and the Jedi Masters because of the amazing work of the Children's Wish foundation! And we all got to go with him.

He got amazing pictures taken, and a signature in each of our homemade Mickey Mouse shaped autograph books. (My mom is a creative person and made each of us one in our favourite colour before we left for our trip.)

While in TomorrowLand I saw a banner with "meet Thor" hanging from a large dome shaped building called the Inventorium or something like that. I wished beyond wishing that I would be able to meet Thor, but alas. My brother would not be convinced that going into the Inventorium was something that he really really wanted to do. I was a little bit sad, but who can complain while at Disneyland, right?

From there, a private meeting was set up for our whole family, and Mickey and Minnie Mouse. At first, I think my brother was a little bit scared, but he soon warmed up to them and kept looking over at them as if he was thinking "is this for real?" I think we all developed a new love of Mickey and Minnie.

I know I sound like a child, gawking at the bright attractions, and the people in costume, but it's so magical in Disneyland I felt like a child again! It seems so real, like anything is possible there! It's a place where dreams come true. At least, with our wish pass, it certainly was a place where a couple of kids at heart, and a whole slew of siblings, got to have their dreams come true.

More on that later.

In fact, perhaps I may have to take another Grand Pause (hopefully not one as long of one) and blog the rest of the amazing trip later. I am finding that I just cannot describe it properly, and things are coming out sounding kind of--funny. Not eloquent, or exciting, or entertaining as I would like it to be. Perhaps I am just off my "A game" right now. I would rather wait another week and a half and have an exciting tale to tell, than continue describing this to you in a rushed a hurried fashion where you are lost and left behind, confused, or worse, bored.

I bid you farewell for now, and hope that my adventures can be more accurately, and more excitingly recounted later.

--Trumpet Player

Allegro

I wasn't sure which musical term to put today. I really wanted to put something pertaining to Swing music, but to be honest, I'm not entirely sure that Swing music has a whole lot of "classical" Italian music terms that I could use. I thought about using "Swing Timing", which is a way to note a certain rhythm that the music should be given. I read it somewhere that Swing timing has a ratio of 2:1 whereas a "Straight Timed" song would have a ratio of 1:1 (that pertains to the notes that are being played). This "Swing timing" is what can give any melody it's "Swingy" feel.

But it's not necessarily that the normal "Straight rhythm" of my life has been somehow invaded by "Swing Timing." In fact, I'd almost say that I've been playing the part of my life that's supposed to be in "Swing timing" in "Straight Timing" instead. Trust me, it makes a difference. The same score can sound entirely different if only you've changed the "timing." 

Okay okay, things are getting a little bit lost and confused, aren't they? You're left behind, and I keep chugging ahead like you know exactly what I'm talking about.  

Shall I start from the beginning? 

It all started yesterday--except--not really.

Scratch that. 

It all started in September 2013...

I had just began my schooling, and I didn't know a whole lot of anybody. I had this friend--let's call her the Soprano Saxophone.* We got a long pretty well, and she was about the only person that I really talked to. 

*A Soprano Saxophone looks kind of like a Clarinet, except it's gold and more Saxophone like. My friend sort of seems like she would be a Clarinet, and then you really get to talking to her and she's very social and actually kind of--saxophone like. 

Anyways! My and The Soprano Sax were walking around after our eight am lab class once we had finished our project early. There were all these boards and tables set up everywhere around the school, with people pushing their clubs like they were the coolest things since sliced bread. I didn't know much about "Club Days"--which is when everyone who runs a club in the University sets up their table and pushes their clubs on you like they are the coolest thing since sliced bread--but I had nothing better to do so I glanced into the faces of all the club pushers and examined their boards. 

Christian Clubs, Humanitarian Clubs, Movie Clubs, Anime Clubs, Book Clubs, there was everything for every kind of person! 

I felt like maybe I, like all those ambitious people out there before me, should perhaps join a club. Some noteworthy advice had been given me earlier, at my student orientation, and that was "get involved." AKA, join a club. 

There were a few that caught my eye. A "hey maybe" sort of thing occurred. But nothing really reached out and grabbed my by the soul, beckoning me to be a part of the amazingness that would no doubt ensue if I joined. 

And then--something weird happened. 

I was just about ready to give up, to head on over to my Education Class and forget the whole thing. At least, forget the whole thing for a little while. If I didn't join a club, it wouldn't be the end of the world. I would just focus on my studies and I would make friends somehow. Perhaps it wouldn't be easy (most people in class are pretty focused on being "in class", myself included) but it would happen. It had with the Soprano Sax hadn't it? 

But wait! Something caught my eye. A video playing on a table of some really neat people Swing Dancing. 

Well hey, whoa, what was that? I stopped, I looked, I exclaimed that it actually looked pretty cool, and the Club Pusher must've urged me to sign up my email on their list, because that's what I found myself doing.

It wasn't a commitment yet, it was just something to think about. I was on a email list--that was all. 

The Club Pusher informed me that they were having a kick-off dance and that I should really come. It was going to be great, there would be a lesson and then some social dancing afterwards. I didn't like the idea of "social dancing", it sounded kind of strange to me. What I imagined was that I would be standing on the side of some room while other people danced with each other. Perhaps I would be talking to some other awkward "non-participant" or perhaps I would be a solo. Standing in the corner bouncing on my toes. 

A little while later, after all but forgetting about the club that I had signed up to hear about, I received an email. The kick-off was happening at the end of the month! I was pretty excited to see what this whole thing was about, even though I had some inhibitions about it.

Oh but wait--we were going to Transplant Camp that weekend. There was no way that I was going to be able to make it to the Swing Dance Club kick-off. I emailed the Club Pusher asking if this was an integral lesson, and if I didn't make it if I could still join the club.

By this point I had decided that Swing Dance was something that I wanted to figure out how to do. It seemed like it would be quite a bit of fun.

The Club Pusher never did answer my question, so I figured I would just show up the next week, on Friday at 4:00, when the lessons started.

I would be lying to you if I said that I wasn't kind of hesitant at first. I had a class that ended at noon and I had to wait around the school until four before I could actually go to the lesson. I contemplated just going home.

But I stuck around, and though time dragged on for those four hours, I found myself standing in the fitness room over the gym, with a group of other random people that were milling about. I knew a girl from one of my Ed classes, and I had managed to convince one of my friends to join the club too. But for the most part, I had struck out to do this thing on my own. I wasn't sure if I would know anybody when I started, and I didn't know very many people when I actually stepped out to do it.

But you know what? It was amazing! We started by learning how to triple step, and get into "closed position" with your lead. That was weird at first. I mean, I knew you had a partner when you Swing Dance but I wasn't--you know--too keen on dancing with some strange guy I had just met.

It seems silly that it mattered now.

But anyways, week after week I kept going back. The Instructor (who also happened to be the Club Pusher) was great at teaching and his Follow had amazing technique! She had a good way of explaining to the rest of us Follows as well, how to properly listen to what you're Lead tells you to do. Because, of course, the Lead doesn't normally say "hey, we're going to do this now." Oh no! Through subtle gestures and the position of his hand, or the amount of pressure he give you, you have to interpret what he's about to do next.

It's not only a good workout, but it's intellectually stimulating too! You're always on your brain's toes (okay, that was stupid, I apologize).

But where does that bring us? That brings us to yesterday, the Swing Dance Club Winter Party!

I can't tell you how amazing it was! We had a larger turnout than we expected, because the party was open to all members of the University, and we actually needed to break up the beginner lesson into two groups because they wouldn't all fit in the same room.

There was good food, good company, a lot of people were dressed up in vintage wear (myself included). Honestly, it was fantastic, amazing, fabulous, stupendous, Allegro!

Okay, Allegro. What does that mean? Well cheerful or brisk is what it actually means, but generally it is read as being a lively/fast tempo. My night last night, was both. It was lively and brisk for sure! I Charleston-ed all night long! I got told by one of the guys in my club that I am the Charleston Master, and that definitely inflated my ego.

It was also super joyful though! I feel like Swing is my niche. It's where I'm supposed to be, because I feel so confident now. Even though I'm not as good as some people I know it doesn't matter! Everyone will dance with anybody, and they'll be nice about it. Though you may suck, they won't tell you that you suck, they'll just smile, laugh, and keep dancing with you until the song is over.

The "Social Dance" I was so scared about, became the coolest thing I've ever experienced. There is a place here in the city where people go to Swing on the weekend, and I'm dying to go. Only problem--dancing is from nine to midnight and while I know that I would be there until midnight, I also know that I don't drive and couldn't find my way home on the not running bus at midnight.

Nevertheless! Where there is a will, there is a way, and one time before the new semester starts up I will be dancing until midnight!

I've always loved Big Band Music (yah yah, I know what you're thinking but it's not just because I'm a Trumpet), but now I have an even deeper appreciation for it. It's just--there's something about it that gets into you. I can't stop thinking about what an amazing time I had!

I also had a chance to dance with my Instructor, and he's just about the coolest person I've ever met, so even though I butchered the dance I had so much fun that it doesn't even matter! Seriously! My Lacrimoso was turned into an Allegro so fast that I think my head is spinning just a little bit! Swing Dance does that to a person I suppose.

Alright folks! That's all I can say for now! I have a trip to pack for, a fantastic night to dwell on, and a dream to nurse! I hope that, if anything, my story is proof that a sad song doesn't have to stay that way for long. Our amazing God can find a way to flip the page of your score, and change your sad soulful wail, into a brisk, effervescent Allegro. It just--it comes with knowing that the movement behind the Lacrimoso is in God's hands, and He's going to take care of it all. Somehow, someway, He'll direct you to Allegro. You just have to wait for it. Maybe it'll be within days (like mine) and maybe it wont. Maybe it'll be a temporary thing, something that exists outside the realm of your issues (like mine) and it wont resolve the thing that was causing Lacrimoso in the first place. But maybe it wont be like that! Maybe it'll be the answer to the question that has been causing you so much sorrow, and you're Allegro can be a lasting way of life.

I'm just babbling here now. Basically, don't let that sad song last long! There is so much more in life for you, there's so much better than living Lacrimoso!

Live life Allegro!

--Trumpet Player  

Lacrimoso

Okay, so Lacrimoso. That means sad. And that's really how I'm feeling today, which is such a shame because today was supposed to be a really super duper awesome day.

Alright. Here we go.

It started off really good. I got up at five, ate some oatmeal, did my devotions, and hopped on the bus to get me to school to write my FINAL final exam.

(Remember how scrammed in, crammed in, crushed, and rushed everything seemed? Yah, well, it doesn't feel like that anymore. And I really love it! I mean, LOVE University. It's something that I feel like I WOULD let characterize the rest of my life if I could. Anyway! That's totally besides the point.)

I got to my school, sat down, ate some veggies, and threw in some last minute studying. I was READY for this exam, ready to totally destroy it! And here's the part where you're expecting me to say that I walked into that test and it was terrible, end of sorry, Lacrimoso.

Not quite.

I got into the exam and was BUZZING because I was totally ready to take that thing by the horns, and get it over with! My FINAL final. I was so ready for it! And it was set down in front of me, and the first question was kind of weird. But half an hour later I was finished my two hour test, and I wasn't sure what to do. So I read it over, and then handed it in. I feel pretty good about it.

I then meandered over to the bookstore, and searched through the textbooks to find a couple of the ones that I need for my courses next semester. Lo and behold I managed to get one USED which means that it's cheaper! I was thrilled. I only spent a hundred and seventeen dollars for four textbooks! I couldn't have been much happier, except maybe if I had gotten them for free.

From there, I hopped on the bus to the mall that my friend works at, and I bought her Christmas present without her even knowing! Then I found myself in the drugstore where I got a steal of a deal for some bright red lipstick!

Whoa wait, bright red lipstick? That doesn't sound very flattering, nor very Trumpet like, you must be thinking to yourself. It's not, I agree, but that's not why I bought it. Different story for a different time.

I went over to the coffee place where my friend works and she gave me a FREE Chai Tea Latte. Over the moon excited was I! I hung around until her lunch break, and we checked out a couple stores in the mall before deciding that we were going to get together for a pre-Christmas "Christmas dinner" after she was done her shift.

So--where's Lacrimoso coming from then? It sounds like a fabulous day!

Yes, well it was pretty fabulous for the first little portion. Like I said. But then, things started to happen. And they weren't terrible things. Not the direction to play Lacrimoso for sure, not unless I'm a baby who can't handle the heat. Erm--well--snow.

See, I got stuck waiting outside for like twenty minutes in the snow! And it was cold, but I was fine. Then I missed my other bus and had to walk home for twenty minutes in the snow. And that was cold too. But again, besides my nose dripping like a faucet, I was fine.

I even bought my sister a purple headband while I was out, and I got to give it to her, and that was nice! She was happy, and I was happy. Then I set up my workout, and worked out pretty hard! And then I got ready to go visit my friend.

Except wait, she says, she had to babysit. And we couldn't get together unless I went over to her house while she babysat, and that always seems kind of not cool to me. I shouldn't be distracting the babysitter. I feel like I'm making an irresponsible decision if I do that.

But not a HUGE deal. Sort of sad. Slightly Lacrimoso. But whatever. I just used it as my resolve to have an even bigger, even better get together with my friend after Christmas. (You see, I'm leaving for the Christmas holidays, which is pretty exciting in and of itself.)

Alright Trumpet Player. You're beating around the bush here. You're telling me that you're playing your poor me, pity party, Lacrimoso song, and everything is "no big deal"? What is making you Lacrimoso.

Alright, you twisted my arm. I'll tell you.

My parents have been fighting, a lot, lately. And when I say fight I don't mean that they're playfully bantering about leaving the toilet seat up, or legitimately getting mad about the dishes not being put away. I'm talking about anger, through and through. The words "divorce" get thrown around, or at least, implied. Last night at the supper table was miserable, and today, round two.

The thing is, they're not angry people, nor are they abusive. They aren't the kind of people who like to yell, or fight, or swear, or any of those kinds of things. You wouldn't find them in a bar fight is what I'm saying. But I haven't been able to tell who they are lately. It's really scary. And there's this issue, one I don't really feel like coming out loud any telling you straight up (because when do I ever really tell you anything straight up anyway?). I'm just going to call it the issue of faulty instruments.

So there are these faulty instruments, okay? And the people that play them aren't so bad, they just have these instruments that don't seem to want to play properly. And if my parents are the conductors, then the conductors have been trying to make these instruments work. But these conductors, they're not necessarily instrument repair people okay? Not bad people, but not made to deal with the problems that these instruments pose. It's not just that the Trumpet Valves are sticking, or that the Reeds are cracked. No, there's issues with the mechanics of the thing. Things are bent, holes aren't being covered properly. It makes it really hard for us family band to play properly. And lately everything has just been coming out angry, or in my case, Lacrimoso.

My Dad, he's a good conductor, but he's not the one who likes to try and fix instruments. That's my Mom. And so she does her best to fix these instruments, and when she can't, she gets frustrated. And then she gets mad at her co-conductor for not helping her fix the instruments that these other band members are playing. And everything just sounds bad. The conductors are too busy trying to fix the instruments that they aren't conducting in a manner that would be conducive for the rest of us band members to play.

And this isn't the cosmic band of life, where everyone is an instrument, this is our tiny quartet (except I guess it's a quartet of seven--however that works) of family. My family quartet. Septet.

Are you kind of following my train of thought here? Like--you don't have to understand what these broken instruments mean or whatever, but just understand that something isn't right, and it's causing lots of strain in my Septet. And that's making me Lacrimoso. And Stressed-i-moso. (I just made that up in case you weren't quite sure.)

And things are supposed to be so exciting right now! But they're not. Instead, people are angry, conductors are fighting, band members are being treated poorly, instruments are copping out. Everything is in shambles! We sound terrible! No one wants anything to do with this Septet, or our performances because we're terribly out of tune. With each other, with God. It's so hard to deal with! And I'm not exempt. My song isn't sounding the best. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't get mad at those band members who have messed up instruments. I'm angry that they don't try and fix it. I'm frustrated and don't quite act the way I should. And sometimes I feel like if only we had different band members. If only we were a quartet. Maybe a pentatet. Maybe thing would be better.

I don't know how to fix the instruments, but I know who can! God can. He's the instrument repair guy. He's the go-to for every screw up. And yet, I don't know how to get those instruments to the repair guy.

I just wish things were simpler. I wish I knew what was going on. I wish I was a better person, one that could figure out the answer to this mess and who would be able to bring the suggestion to the conductors. But I can't. So I let them duke it out. And I wonder to myself, how long we're going to last.

I can't help but feeling that this Septet is going to be a very Lacrimoso solo soon.

I don't want to speak that into my life, I don't want to speak that over my family, I just want results. I pray for peace. The Shalom kind of peace. All encompassing, every facet of life kind of peace. I want that for our little Septet.

Please God. Help.

--Trumpet Player