272. Music Lifts Me Up

When I worked in the nursing home as a music therapist, we had a chorus. They were residents who wanted to sing. We sang mostly old songs, sometimes I taught new songs, and occasionally we wrote a song together. Several times a year we would work on a “show.” We would invite people and do a performance.

We would select a theme—in one case the theme was: Music. I gathered pieces that fit that theme—they would offer suggestions. Sometimes they did murals on the wall, led by the art therapist. And then finally we wrote a song. I would ask: What does music do? They would answer: Keeps me alive. Lifts me up. Makes me feel good. And I would all their ideas into a song.

—

Music Lifts Me Up

—

Music lifts me up, it keeps me alive,

Takes my blues away.

Music lifts me up, makes me float on the cloud,

Does wonderful for me.

—

Music makes me happy, makes me want to live,

Livens me up.

Brings back memories happy and sad.

Music gets me on my feet.

—

Music is so very soothing, Makes me feel good,

Helps me feel I’m young again,

I’m happy when I hear it ring.

—

Music’s so relaxing, makes me fall asleep,

I’m happy when I heart it.

Music gives me, gives me love,

And the feeling of everything.

—

© Copyright 1986 by Ann Freeman Price

—

The interesting thing is that it’s all true.

271. Money Doing Good

A few years ago I received a letter in the mail from the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR), a long-time peace group with national headquarters in Nyack, NY. This mailing pictured the places of conflict around the world where the FOR was present and working for peace. In each location pictured, there was also a shadow of a person. Finally on the last page the shadow was explained: “You may not be able to go to each of these places yourself, but your contribution helps us to go and represent you through your shadow.”

It probably was said better but that’s my memory of the gist of it, and I was so moved as I looked at these pictures of places all around the world and in each picture was that shadow—and the shadow could be me.

I’ve remembered that concept and use it regularly as I decide where to send my contribution dollars. I have a regular presence in Georgia as I contribute to Jubilee Partners in their work with refugees. I do good work in the environment via The Nature Conservancy. I have a very specific presence in a community in Nicaragua through Sister Cities. I get excited about my presence in a number of countries where United Methodist Women’s projects are working. I’ve supported Centurion Ministries and my monies have helped to free innocent persons from prison.

And my shadow continues to move around the world through the charities I support. Good job shadow!

270. Anyway

In the devotions I do each morning I came upon this today. I’ve read it before but somehow it struck home a little bit more today. The last two lines are the clincher lines.

—

People are unreasonable, illogical,

and self-centered;

forgive them anyway.

—

If you are kind, people may accuse you

of selfishness, of ulterior motives;

be kind anyway.

—

If you are successful, you will win some

false friends and some true enemies;

be successful anyway.

—

What you spend years building,

someone will destroy overnight;

build anyway.

—

If you find serenity and happiness,

others may be jealous;

be happy anyway.

—

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow;

do good anyway.

—

Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough;

give the world your best anyway.

—

In the final analysis, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.

—

Prayer found on the wall of Teresa of Calcutta’s room.

269. Carolyn Freeman, My Mother

Mom was born on March 14, 1910. She was the oldest of nine children and we never really talked about what that was like. I know that she quit highschool early in her senior year so that she could get a job and help pay bills. She went to work for Indiana Bell Telephone Company and continued to work there for 35 years. Mom’s mother, Irene Sanders, found herself supporting the nine children when Mom’s father was sent to federal prison for mail fraud. Irene’s long-time friend held down the home base while Irene got a job.

Joyce and Elinor were the two youngest of Mom’s eight siblings. Joyce was born in 1922 and Elinor in 1924. My mother got married in 1931 and I was born in 1933. It fascinated me that both Joyce and Elinor were closer in age to me, than they were to Mother. Mother was 12 years older than Joyce and 14 years older than Elinor. But Joyce was eleven years older than me, and Elinor was nine years older than me. Well, enough of that—it just always felt weird.

My Dad left when I was 12 or 13 and from then on it was Mama and me. We did o.k. together. For one of her birthdays I bought her a large strawberry cookie jar and that started for her an amazing strawberry collection, the like of which I have never seen anywhere—strawberry dishes, glasses, shower curtain, scale, knick-knacks, stationery. Whatever you can name, Mother had it in strawberries.

I think Mother passed on two major things to me: her love of books, and her Christian faith. She loved to read. Often if she liked a book she would read more and more by that author. Or, reading one book would lead to another whole subject which she would explore.

As far back as I can remember, she always went to church. And her expectation was that I would also go to church. Somewhere in her early 70’s she took a course at her church called “Experiment in Practical Christianity.” She said that that course deepened her faith, and she re-read the course book over and over again.

She wasn’t perfect, and I followed suit in that too, but she gave anything she tackled her very best shot.

When she retired at age 68, the first thing she did was to take the highschool equivalency test. She was the oldest one there, and she passed with flying colors. Finally she could say that she had a highschool diploma. Probably in 1979 or 1980 she telephoned me and said she had been asked to teach a junior high Sunday School class. She wanted to know what I thought. At that time, my four children were those ages and I recommended that she find a different age to teach. But she went ahead and within a month she was also signed up for an adult education course in Human Sexuality because she told me that as soon as she started teaching, she realized that sexuality was an important issue in young teenagers lives.

When it became necessary for her to leave Indianapolis (and her church there) and I arrived to help get her ready to move, those teenagers came to the apartment to celebrate her 70th birthday.

I hope she knows that I loved her and admired her clear up to her death and beyond. I started working on a book about our relationship soon after she died in 1984 and published it this last year. It’s called Mama and Me—Our Journey Together Her Last Three Years and Beyond. Working on it for so long was healing in many ways, and when I received the first copy last September it was a completion moment and brought tears to my eyes. (Our picture—Mama and Me—is on the cover. You can see it on Amazon.)

So happy birthday Mom. I was at the grocery this morning and considered buying a container of strawberries. They were too expensive and not that great looking here in March. But I held them for a minute and thought of you.

268. Survivors

In the midst of the women’s movement in the 80’s I wrote the song “Survivors.” It is dedicated to Nan Self of the national Commission on the Status and Role of Women in the United Methodist Church. I met her at a retreat and the first evening someone said, “I don’t know if we’ll survive.” Nan spoke up and said, “We’ll survive because we’re survivors.”

It’s a song about my Mother and my grandmother and probably my great-grandmother too (who I never knew). It’s a song about me and some of my friends. It’s about women I’ve never met in other countries. And  it’s about children and sometimes it’s about men—for many survive things they shouldn’t have to. But they do.

—

Survivors

—

The times have been tough,

The barriers have been strong,

The laws have been rigid,

And the rules have been wrong,

But through all the hard times,

And through all the pain,

We have survived, because we’re survivors.

—

The days have been long,

The struggle has been hard,

Real change has come slowly,

And we’ve grown oh so tired,

But through all the anger

And through all the rage

We have survived, because we’re survivors.

—

We stand in the storm,

The thunder echoes round.

We stand firm together

And we forge a strong bond,

And we grow in new ways

And walk on fresh roads,

We can survive, because we’re survivors.

—

The dreams have been born,

The vision starts to grow.

We all form a circle

And we know—yes, we know

That through all our journeys

And through every day

We will survive, because we’re survivors.

—

© Copyright 1983 by Ann Freeman Price

267. Long-Time Loving

In 1992 on March 12th my friend Paul Abels died. Paul for many years was the pastor of the Washington Square United Methodist Church in Greenwich Village in New York City. I had first known him in Rockland County, NY, then ran into him at a writer’s conference where I realized that we had the potential for a friendship and I pursued it.

Paul was the pastor who had announced that he was gay, and the church tried to remove him, but in 1979 the Judicial Council of the UMC decided he was just exactly where he should be.

Paul, his church, and his partner Thom, were all important to me. Paul, for me, was the very symbol of hospitality. He passed on to me his belief that God excludes no one, and he lived that out.

Shortly before he died, I went to visit him in the hospital. Thom was there also of course, and I told both of them that I had written a new song and I wanted them to hear it. I had often sung new songs for Paul and he gave me his critique of them, but at this point he was not talking, but I sang anyway.

—

Long-Time Lovin’

—

The best kind of lovin’ is the long-time lovin’

That goes on for years and years.

It goes through the good times and on through the bad times,

It goes through the smiles and tears.

And sometimes in the middle of it all

We ask each other “Is this really love?”

Oh it’s the best kind of lovin’, this long-time lovin’

Is the very best love of all.

—

We struggled and fought and we sat down and talked

Until sometimes I thought we would never have

Time for loving again.

And then there were other days when the monotony of our

Together ways seemed to say “Why don’t we strike out with somebody new?”

But we couldn’t forget all the good times,

Sitting by fires and not even talkin’,

Blowing out candles and making our wishes,

Tromping through snow-drifts and swimming in oceans,

Sharing our fears and our hopes and our dreams,

And it makes it all worth it, It makes it all worth it.

—

The best kind of lovin’ is the long-time lovin’

That goes on for years and years.

It goes through the good times,

Right on through the bad times,

It goes through the smiles and tears,

And sometimes in the middle of it all

We ask each other “Is it still love?”

Oh yes, it’s the best kind of lovin’, this long-time lovin’

Is the very best love of all.

—

© Copyright 1992 by Ann Freeman Price

—

He listened, Paul did, and as I sang that last chorus, he leaned forward in his bed so that he could see around me and see Thom, who was sitting beside me—because that’s who Thom was—Paul’s long-time love.

It is twenty-one years later, and I still miss him.

266. Turn Around

A dozen years ago I wrote a song for some children’s vacation church school curriculum about God forgiving us. The words went like this:

—

Turn around, God forgives

Mistakes you make, as you live.

Turn around, God alone

Says to you “Come on home.”

—

© Copyright 2000 by Ann Freeman Price

—

It’s the turn around part that I think is most important. When I make a mistake, I need to turn around and do things differently. I need to not just keep repeating the same mistake over and over again. It’s important for me to decide that I CAN turn, and make a fresh start, and that over and over again, God will welcome me home.

I often used American Sign Language with this song, and the sign I love the most is the one for forgive. You take one hand and hold it out palm up, and you take the other hand palm down and wipe off the outstretched hand. You literally wipe the slate clean. Your mistake is forgiven. And you turn around.

265. Grandchildren in Proverbs

The first half of Proverbs 17:06 says: Grandchildren are the crown of the aged…

I have four children and they have married and between them all have gifted me with sixteen grandchildren. Through the years I have collected their stories, written them down, read them, recited them, remembered them over and over, and learned from them.

The grandchildren have all taught me to be authentic—because they are.

I remember the morning when Zachariah and I had eaten cinna-minnies at Burger King before I took him to school. When we got back in the car and were just sitting there, Zack said, “Grandma, I have an extra Pokemon card—it is Diglet and I’m going to give him to you.” I said, “Well, Zack, what a nice idea. But I don’t really use Pokemon cards in my life much. Maybe you should give it to one of your friends.”

He looked at me seriously, holding out the card to me and said, “Grandma, you ARE my friend.” I took the card and said, “Thank you Zack. I would love to have Diglet.”

In my desk drawer, many years later, I still have Diglet.

I am aged now and Proverbs is right—my grandchildren are my crown.

264. Fear Acrostic

When I first saw this acrostic I saved it because I thought it was wise.

F = False

E = Expectations

A = Appearing

R = Real

That’s pretty true of my fears. When I get scared I certainly do have false expectations and I allow them to appear real. And when I’m in the middle of being scared, most of the time the acrostic doesn’t help immediately. But if I can remember to test it out, then the fear goes down again notch by notch.

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