The main thing

published March 10, 2011

in the Stockton Sentinel

Stockton, Kansas

            Last week was a total blur. Had it not been for my daily pillbox, I would not have known what day it was. You see, last week a crew of window installers replaced all 100 windows at Stockton Housing Authority where I am the director. That’s the hat I wear every weekday morning before switching hats to come to the Sentinel in the afternoons. But last week, because of the window replacement project, I didn’t switch hats in the middle of the day. Instead, I kept the SHA director hat on all day for four very long, tiring days.

            On Wednesday morning, just as the contractors arrived to continue replacing the windows, another group of contractors arrived to continue their work of replacing heating and air conditioning systems, and a third contractor arrived to make final adjustments to all 30 new water heaters. Everyone was getting organized to begin a full day of work when we discovered that Virginia, a dear friend and Valley View neighbor, had departed this life and gone on to meet her Lord. And for a while that morning, all work stopped. No one wanted to be the first to pick up their tools and continue working. Life – or death, as it had just happened – got in the way.

            Slowly, sadly, everyone resumed their role and the work began again. And by the end of that same day, 30 new windows were in place, including those in the apartment that had been Virginia’s earthly home for the past five years. The work went on. Life went on.

            Saturday morning, exhausted from the week of hard labor, I attended the funeral service for our friend, Virginia. Returning home later, I had my usual Saturday chores to do: seven loads of laundry, groceries to buy, car to wash, house to clean, etc. But in the afternoon, I went to church to choose music to play for Sunday’s worship service. Sitting down at the piano, I began to play, and continued to play one song after another, until nearly two hours had gone by. When I finally realized the time, and knew I still hadn’t even planned what to play Sunday morning, plus I still had so much to do at home, I scolded myself for wasting so much time just playing the piano. But I also realized how much better I felt, so I opened another book and continued to play. It is never a waste of time for me to play the piano.

            My mother would tell you that she used to know what kind of day I had had by the way I played the piano when I got home. Saturday, my spirit was contemplative, sad, and tired. Playing the piano is what I do when I am most myself. It is my passion. It defines who I am.

            Today I received a phone call from friends whose mother died this morning. They asked me to provide service music for their mother’s funeral. I felt honored to be asked, and I accepted their invitation. The next couple of days, I will spend a considerable amount of time planning what music to play for Roma’s funeral service.

            Someone once said, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” In spite of everything else I will do this week, and the various hats I will wear, I know what the main thing for me will be. Perhaps, everything else will be a waste of time.