Teatime

Dear Journal:

Today Mommy and I went to a tea place called Lavender and Lace. She brushed my hair, and we got all dressed up to go to afternoon tea. We got there, and the tables had purple tablecloths. The food came out on what looked like three plates stacked on top of each other – Mommy called it a three tier plate. We ate cucumber sandwiches and also scones with jelly and Devonshire cream. They were so good. We also shared a pot of tea. It was a lot of fun.

Dear Journal:

Today Mom and I tried out a new tea room, a place called “Amelia’s Teas and Holly.” We had a nice chat with the owner, who had named the place after her grandmother. I tried a new tea, called sencha tea. I liked how mild it was. Of course the tea sandwiches and sweets were delicious. Going out to afternoon tea was a nice break from the stress of the week. I enjoyed being able to get away for awhile.

Dear Journal:

I’m looking out the window, watching the rain fall as I hold my hot cup of green tea. It’s chilly outside, but the steam ascending from my mug warms my face as I wait until the tea is cool enough to drink. I’m far from home, but I feel happy. Now all I need is a cucumber sandwich.

Things I Love: The Harp

“I had a dream that you were older and you were playing the harp for a lot of people.” I don’t remember what her exact words were, but I remember her telling me that.

In a way, her dream came true.

I was only around six years old when I began playing the harp. People ask me how I got started playing such a unique instrument, and I really don’t remember. I went to a harp teacher’s house for a lesson one day. And then I went to another lesson. And another. I grew to like the Irish woman with long hair who had a quirky sense of humor and a patient heart. My little fingers were clumsy on the small harp, but I never remember her becoming cross with me.

I loved my teacher, but I hated practicing and wanted to quit. My family kept telling me that I would regret it when I was older. I didn’t have much of a choice but to keep playing.

A couple years later I grew bigger, which meant I could play a full size harp. I had gotten better at playing, so now I could play more complicated songs. And now my teacher could play duets with me. We played mostly Celtic songs, ancient melodies that had stayed alive only by being passed down by people listening to them and playing them back. And that’s what my teacher did with me. She played part of a song, and I played it back. Once I learned the whole song, we would play it together.

Some of my favorite lessons took place when it was chilly outside. My teacher would build a fire in her wood burning stove, and we would make music together while the cats wrestled in the warmth that radiated from the stove. Everything was cozy, and the happy feeling I got would linger through the next morning upon the realization that my shirt smelled like smoke.

I stopped playing after my teacher stopped teaching. Every once in awhile I would pluck a few strings, play a song here or there, but not like I used to. It wasn’t until my later teenage years that I got back into it again. I don’t remember why I did other than for the offer of money I received.

The first few performances I played are a bit of a blur. The more I played, the more I wanted to play.

After most of my performances now there is at least one person who comes up to me to express their appreciation for my playing. A young boy who is learning how to play, a middle-aged woman with tears in her eyes, an old man who squeezes my hand. A pastor, a waitress, a kid who had never even seen a harp.

I’ve gotten to play for a lot of people. Because it makes other people happy. “I was having a hard day, and this was what I needed.”

When I see how I’ve made people happy, it makes me happy too.

Yay Sheep!

Sheep are my time machines. The sight of them transports me back to my childhood when I learned the traditions of generations past through one activity: spinning wool.

My first harp teacher taught me how to spin wool on a small device called a drop spindle. It’s not as big or as complicated as the spinning wheel, something which I tried to use but could never get the hang of. By spinning the drop spindle, I learned how to twist sheep’s wool into lumpy yarn. Ideally the yarn is supposed to be smooth, but the lumps added character as it displayed the lack of skill of the little child’s hands who made it.

(image from seedpodcraft.com)

I can remember feeling the rough, greasy fibers gliding through my fingers and interlocking with each other as they formed one coherent string. I was so proud when I had spun an entire ball of yarn, although what became of that ball I’m not sure. I think I gave it as a gift to one of my parents.

I don’t know why I loved spinning so much. Maybe it was the smell of earth that appealed to me when I buried my nose in the white fluff, or the rough warmth I felt when it touched my skin. Maybe it was the novelty of creating something useful all by myself. Thinking now about spinning brings to mind memories of visiting sheep festivals, seeing a lamb being born at a friend’s farm, watching my harp teacher create a strand of yarn so effortlessly with her expert fingers.

I still have the drop spindle somewhere, sitting in a forgotten corner of the house, probably some wool with it. Someday I am going to get out that drop spindle and begin spinning again. Maybe I’ll use the lumpy yarn I spin to knit a scarf. Maybe I won’t make anything. But it was something I used to enjoy.

Things I Love: Theater

Bleached overalls, Superman shirt, suspenders. Yup – the earliest memories I have of a theater performance would have to be my church-at-the-time’s production of Godspell. It was being put on by the youth choir there, which my big brothers sang in, so my mom and I would watch the rehearsals. In fact, I think I remember the rehearsals more than I remember the actual performances. The feather boa worn by the girl who sang “Turn Back O Man,” the angry face my one brother made when he had to freeze during “We Beseech Thee,” the way Jesus’ head hung upside down as he was being carried away after the crucifixion.

Through the years I’ve discovered that when I watch people on stage, I’m moved in a way that words can’t quite describe. It’s not just the “aww” moment when a couple kisses or the blood boiling when the main character gets beaten. I sense a unity between the actors, a bond formed only through countless hours of rehearsing, and I feel like I want to share that bond. I don’t just want to watch the magic, I want to make the magic.

Many people (and I’m about to make some huge generalizations here) will only think about the performance for the couple hours they are there. They’re not thinking about the show two weeks before when the lead actress sprains her ankle or when one of the light fixtures breaks. They can’t feel the sweat caused by having run that one dance number eight times. They don’t know the stories told backstage or the inside jokes created when someone messed up his line. They’re not stressing out three days before over a ripped costume or a missing prop. They simply attend the performance. Which is great, because that’s what an audience is supposed to do. They’re not supposed to know what goes on behind the scenes. But I don’t want to be just an audience member. I want to be onstage. Not for the fame, but for the family. There’s just one little problem.

I don’t act. Or sing.

Sure, I’ve been in a couple productions in school or in the community, but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. Okay, so I’ve taken one acting class. But when I’m on the stage I feel like I’m missing something. And I can’t figure out what.

I have great admiration for those who can take words on a page and bring them to life. That’s what I want to learn to do. Yeah, I’m not great at it now, but I’m going to change that. I’m taking voice lessons to make my voice stronger. And when I can find where to take acting classes/lessons, I’m going to do that too (if anyone has any recommendations where to go, feel free to tell me!). Will I make a career out of it? Highly unlikely. Will I be an amazing actress? Also unlikely. What I am going to be is the best actress and singer I can be, and learn all I can in the process.