Listening can be hard. The words coming out of someone else’s mouth can go against your belief system. The words can affect you in a way that you want to tune them out and ignore them. A few years ago I found myself in this particular situation. I chose to make a decision grounded on listening to my son, being attentive to my daughter’s mannerisms, and finally listening to the spirit.
As an example of learning to listen, I yell from the bottom step of the stairs, “It’s time to go guys, make sure your teeth are brushed, your morning prayers are said and you have all of your homework. Grab your blades or your bike and let’s hit the road-it’s almost 7:45.” I walk out into the crisp fall morning with a few leaves lingering on the large trees. The road is wet from last night’s rain and the dirt in our flowerbed is as black as coal. The sun is hiding behind the cumulus clouds that are scattered throughout the blue sky. Sid and Brit hop on their bikes and Addy straps on her white and pink adjustable roller blades. I follow behind them on my bike and we come to the crosswalk nearing the elementary school. The crossing guard holds the stop sign firmly in her hand as we cross the street. She says, “Have a ‘magnificent Monday’!” We wave and suggest that she do the same.
Later in the afternoon when Alan pulls into the driveway I jump on my bike and zoom down the hill to the school and I wait for them outside the front door. Addy bursts through the front doors of the elementary with a flier in her hand and anticipation in her eyes., “Mom, can I join All City Band? My music teacher just told me that I had ‘trumpet lips’. I really want to play the trumpet. Please mom, Please! She straps her blades on her feet and ties her tennis shoes to her backpack. She scrunches the flier down in her backpack and starts pushing her roller blades with the left and then right foot up the hill. I respond as I jump on my bike, “Wow, trumpet lips… That’s funny!.” She looks back at me as she’s pushing hard up the incline, “It’s true mom. Everyone has different shaped lips and mine are perfect for the trumpet.” I wonder to myself, “maybe that’s why I could never get my flute to sound good in fourth grade?” We finally arrive at the front steps of the house and everyone drops their bikes at the steps as they race in through the screen door. Everyone washes their hands and we sit at the kitchen table for some fruit and cheese. We sit around the table and the kids pop grapes into their mouths. Addy says, “Mom, can I please join the band? I think that I would be really good at the trumpet.” I mentally pull my financial spreadsheet up in my head and I try to calculate if it is a possibility for her to join the popular city band. I responded, “We will do everything we can so that you can have this opportunity.”
The following week I secured a used trumpet and a spot in the revered ‘All City Band’ for her. She is anxious to start practicing on her golden trumpet. We open up the black case and the trumpet lays in the polyester red lining. Everyone is sitting around the rectangular box wanting a chance to blow the horn and push down the round brass keys. Addy pushes her siblings to the side, “Guys, I have the trumpet lips! Let me blow the horn first.” She places her mouth close to the mouthpiece and then she tucks her lips inside and buzzes out a sound with enthusiasm. Britton falls to the floor laughing at the sound that unexpectedly comes out of the horn.
Band practice is twice a week on Tuesday and Thursday. I drop Addy off at St. Mary’s and she walks through the double doors with an extra skip in her step. When she exits through the side door after practice is over her skip is missing and she quickly gets into the car. I ask, “How was your first practice?” She answers, “It’s okay. I just want to go home.” We drive home in silence.
Addy has been practicing her trumpet during the week for a month now and she seems to be enjoying the experience. Although I was hoping to see a little more passion and enthusiasm from her. The All City Band has an opportunity to participate in the The Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival at the university next week and Addy gets to be a part of it. This is an annual Jazz festival that takes place once a year. It is the largest jazz festival in the western United States. I am delighted that she gets to be a part of such an awe-inspiring program.
The festival is finally here and my husband happens to be on campus during Addy’s performance. He is going to leave his class early to see Addy playing the trumpet in the band. He pushes through the crowds to get a closer look at her playing with the other band members. I decided to stay home with the baby so I won’t have to fight the crowds on campus. I am anxiously waiting for her arrival to see how the festival was. I look out the window and Alan has pulled up with all of the kids in the car. Addy climbs out of the back of the silver Grand Prix and walks into the house. My level of excitement is through the roof when I ask about the jazz festival, “How was it Addy?” She shrugs her shoulders and says, “There were a lot of people. It was okay I guess.” I look at my husband, “Well, how was it? Alan replies, “Ummm, I got up pretty close to her performance. Her lips were touching the mouthpiece but her cheeks were not moving and blowing any air. Although her fingers were pushing down the keys. From where I was standing it looked like she was not playing her instrument.” I looked at him with confusion, “really?” “Yeah.” he said, “She didn’t seem too excited to be there either.”
I pull up to the curb at St. Mary’s the following week. Addy says, “mom I can’t go today! My stomach hurts! So I look at her and try to judge if she is sick or not with my ‘mama vision’. She complains louder and louder until I pull away from the side of the curb with her bent over in the passenger seat. I start to lecture, “Addy, We finish what we start. Is there something or someone bothering you at band practice?” She counters, “No, mom. I just don’t feel good.” Soon this becomes a common ailment as I pull up to the big white double doors and wait under the tall trees. Tears, stomach cramps, fears of unseen dangers, anxiety over the world ending, and missing valuable time at home become a common theme as I drop Addy off to practice.
I comb through every possible scenario:
Is there a bully behind the white doors?
Is there fumes coming into the car that’s making her sick?
Does she have some rare trumpet disease?
Is she some kind of kid psychic and the world is really going to end next week?
Does the band teacher have some personal vendetta against her?
Or maybe She is a child prodigy and she already knows how to play every instrument in the band room and she is extremely bored.
I DON”T KNOW! Geesh – parenting!
One afternoon as I am coercing Addy to get out of the car and walk quickly into practice before she is late Britton yells from the back of the car, “Mom, don’t you get it? Addy hates band!” I listen to him with a smile on my face at his reaction to her consistent complaining. Addy grudging gets out of the car with a sad and defiant look on her face. I shoot her my own defiant look as she walks away from me. As she walks around the car I decide to play the nice mother card… I roll down the window and I put on the nicest smile I have, “Addy, I love you. I will be waiting for you right here after practice.” I say with a clipped tone. She looks at me with trepidation and walks slowly into practice. I am insistent on her finishing what she started.
I drive the short distance home after I drop her off at practice. I am so annoyed with Addy right now. I am trying to help her develop talents and open doors of opportunity for her. I am sacrificing time, spending precious money, and I am disrupting the baby’s naps to be able to get her to practice every week. I refuse to let her quit the band. I am determined to convince her to finish what she has started. I walk in the house and I start making preparations for dinner. I have a quiet moment to myself as I chop the veg for dinner. All of the sudden I hear a quiet voice, “Let her come home. It doesn’t really matter.” I listen and wait for anything else the spirit wants to reveal to me. I think of the situation, her age, how she feels, her many attempts to give up on a talent she wanted, and the fact that her five year old brother was listening and analyzing the situation. I give into the prompting and I reply, “Okay. When I pick her up today-this will be her last practice.” I felt at peace for the first time since she started playing trumpet in the band.
I finish up dinner prep and I drive down the street and up the hill to wait for Addy on the side of the road. She is one of the first children to walk out the door. She looks at me with sadness in her eyes and she slowly walks to the car. I smile big and wave at her through the window of the driver’s seat. She gets in the car and I say, “Addy, this will be your last band practice. You don’t have to be a trumpet girl anymore. You can stay at home.” Addy’s eyes are big and her smile widens as she says, “Really! Mom, thank you so much. I just keep getting ‘called out’ for not knowing my notes. I know them mom-it’s the person in front of me who doesn’t! I just realized I really hate playing the trumpet. Thank you.” She relaxes in the seat and her happiness is felt all the way home.
Above all listening to my daughter and heeding the spirit was what my daughter really needed at the time. She loved to be home creating and rollerblading down the broken concrete sidewalk in our neighborhood. Although I am still insistent on finishing what I (or my children) start. As I learned to listen to the spirit it didn’t really matter if she continued on with the band. Through lots of other musical programs, lessons and everyday life experiences Addy learned the skills she needed to be successful. Listening and paying attention to what a child really needs can help them grow and have rewarding experiences in their lives. I have learned that listening is like a giant puzzle. There are lots of aspects of listening that I am still trying to piece together.
Here are a few things that have worked for me. Maybe you could give them a try to help improve your listening skills:
- Find a quiet Place: You are able to collect your thoughts, calm down, and sort through problems. Being in a quiet place prepares us to listen to the spirit. When we find our sanctuary we are able to connect with Heaven.
- Listen to what others around you are telling you. In Addy’s story I never really listened to her until her little brother piped up in the back seat and helped shed some light on the situation.
- Pay attention to others’ body language. We can listen with our eyes as well as our ears. Addy’s body language spoke volumes each day as I dropped her off at practice. Tears, arms crossed over her stomach, slouched over, sad eyes, frowning, refusing to perform, etc… Nonverbal signals are a large part of how we communicate everyday.
*Where is Addy today? She has not picked up a trumpet since the last day she walked out of St. Mary’s. She will soon graduate High School in the spring of 2024 along with her Associates in liberal arts. She found her passion in playing the piano and creating art. She is in her artistic zone when she is pounding out the notes on our out of tune piano, sketching on a large white pad, and working on her academics. She still can hold her own on her rollerblades- the hills and broken sidewalks of northern Idaho trained her well. In the future she plans to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints and further her education.
Resources:
https://www.verywellmind.com/understand-body-language-and-facial-expressions-4147228
Mini Memoirs 