Learn to Play an Instrument

Piano:   
When was a little girl my parents put me into piano lessons. I hated it with every inch of my tiny body. I hated being told what to do, I hated structure and discipline. I hated practicing and getting in trouble if I didn’t. So, for some reason, my parents let me quit, warning me that I would regret it someday. 

By the time I got into high school I started plunking around on the piano a bit. I decided to sound out and learn to play Beethoven’s “Fur Elise.” I even memorized a piece of music and played at a piano festival to complete my “superiors” from when I was 7 years old and get a trophy.

The silly part about all of this was that my own mother taught piano lessons. But I think there was an unspoken understanding all along that she didn’t want to put up with me and I didn’t have the patience.

      

         As the years went I started teaching myself to play and started practicing hymns a little. But it really hit when I got to Armenia. The first day my trainer asked me if I played the piano, I told her that I barely did, which was true and she said, “Good, because you’re going to be playing every week in church.”

And so it went. Many times I was the best option they had for a pianist. Sad, I know. But through all of that I learned and learned and got a lot better. And now I know how to play! Even if I’m not the best, I can play the hymns and stuff. For my birthday last year my family and husband got me a keyboard so that I can continue to practice. I actually do enjoy it and yes, I regret quitting my lessons now as a child. 

My Keyboard

  Ukulele

      When I was living in Hawaii for a couple months going to school I took a class that changed my life. An older Hawaiian man named Uncle Bill taught us about life. I don’t really know what the actual point of the class was, and I don’t think the teacher did either. So instead we spent our days painting the giant Hawaiian “canoe,” Iosepa, learning to tie knots, swimming in the ocean, learning dances from his island Molokai, listening to him tell us about his dreams, and everyday we sat on that canoe and he played us his ukulele and taught us songs.

      I knew when I returned to the mainland that I wanted to keep the Hawaiian spirit with me in any way that I could. That was when I made the goal to learn the ukulele. And so for my 23 birthday, after my mission, my parents got me my own ukulele. I’ve been teaching myself every since and I’ve even performed with it at a couple friends’ weddings. I took it with me to Hawaii when we went there for our honeymoon.

            
And I named the ukulele “Uncle Bill,” who has since passed away. So now I play the calm and enchanting instrument as a tribute to him and his spirit and for showing me the true spirit of Aloha.

Uncle Bill

Parasailing

My family went to Disneyworld (one of the many times) at the end of the summer in 2006. One of the days there we went to a lake at one of the Disney resorts and para-sailed. I went up into the air strapped to my dad. We flew up higher than I thought we would and it was amazing! Looking down everything was tiny and the water looked solid and deadly. But it wasn’t really scary, just exhilarating. 

 

Learn a New Language

      I tried to learn French. Well, I suffered through a semester of it anyways. And it was awful. So when I got my mission call to Armenia I was a little scared, but I had faith.

      Learning Armenian wasn’t easy though, even with God’s help. The different looking alphabet was tricky, but once I got that down it was like learning any other language I suppose. I was stuck in the Missionary Training Center for three months. A person can only learn so much of a language from books and teachers though. It was when I got into the country that I learned it.

      Mind you, I was an anxious MESS the first few months. Every morning I woke up with dread and fear. It was frustrating to not understand or not be able to say what I wanted, especially when there were other missionaries around me who seemed fluent. In fact, they all seemed to know it better than I did. Sometimes I wanted to give up and go home.

      I’m not sure when I crossed the line and felt comfortable with it but it happened. By the power of God I was speaking that language, and understanding those people. There wasn’t some big “tah-dah!” day when I suddenly knew it, it was a progression.

But I DO remember one day in April 2008, towards the end of my time there, sitting with Siranush and listening to her tell me a story about her aunt who was murdered. It was an intense and horrific story and I listened with anticipation. It was then I realized how RANDOM my life was.  There I was, sitting with this Armenian girl unknown by anyone “important” in the world. She was telling me a story as a friend and I sat there listening, not translating in my head or wondering what certain words meant. Because of that language our two drastically different worlds had been melded together. I thought then that learning that language was worth it, even if just for that moment, and definitely worth it to have Siranush as my friend.

I didn’t know then that I would also marry an elder from my mission and use that blasted language at least a little bit everyday of my life. I love having a secret language with him and I love that we both understand the place and the people that give those words meaning.