Memorable Stops Along the Road Map of Life

Does anybody remember actual, old paper road maps? They were folded just so, and when traveling, I would unfold only the part I needed to find the right route. Life is like that–unfolding a little at a time, depending upon how far along we are on our journey, re-folding what isn’t needed any more.

Once, years ago, I was church pianist or organist, whichever bench was empty,  each Sunday. And, some funny things happened along the way. I first blogged about a few of those adventures three years ago, but I’m re-blogging them today, because–well–because this is Sunday and I’m in the mood for remembering.

One summer Sunday, I  decided to wear some red sandals with crepe rubber soles to church. I hadn’t worn them in years (I keep shoes and clothes until they are outdated, then full circle, in fashion once again). These shoes were maybe ten or fifteen years old but still looked all right.

I was sitting on the piano bench, well into a hymn, and happened to glance down at the pedals. There under my feet was a scattering of whitish flecks. What in the world? And then, as my right foot connected with the pedal again, I noticed more mysterious grains. After the song service, my shoes felt odd as I walked back to my pew. Glancing at the carpet behind me, I saw a trail of bits of crepe rubber from piano to pew. I wore most of my shoes home that day but the soles remained at church.

On another spring morning, one of Oklahoma’s memorable thunderstorms crashed and sizzled outside, but  inside the church building, we worshipers ignored all that. I accompanied the congregation on the organ with Lola, at the piano, as they sang, “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning”. A particularly bright bolt of lightning flashed. Lower lights, upper lights, and my organ light blinked off. Without missing a note, people and piano, continued, while I sat on the organ bench and listened.

Sometimes music lovers come in surprising shapes and sizes. Take for instance, a furry black spider. He dropped down from somewhere above me on his invisible thread while I played an offertory on the organ one Sunday. He stopped twelve inches in front of my nose and hung there, all eight eyes staring at me. A bit unnerving, but who was I to squash one of God’s creatures who evidently was mesmerized by music?

Those days were then and this is now. That part of the map has been re-folded and other parts are opening up. It’s fun, however to look back now and then and remember some of the funny stops along the way.

A nice surprise yesterday: A really wonderful review on a neat website. You’ll enjoy clicking on the link and taking a look. .http://socratesbookreviews.blogspot.com/2017/01/review-best-left-buried-by-blanche-day.html