When I taught piano lessons, I assigned different levels of music to each student.  One piece was below their reading level; in short, easy to play.  The student didn’t have to strain over which notes to play; instead she could concentrate on phrasing, dynamics, expression.  So even though the music was easy, it needed to be quality, worthy of expressive playing. 

The bulk of the music was bread and butter.  Working from white bread to 10-grain, it got chewier in increments.  Not effortless, but with regular practice the music could be mastered by the next lesson.  Like bread, this was the daily sustenance of the art of playing piano. One bite at a time.

The long-term focus was the challenge piece.  This was music which, at first glance, seemed overwhelming.   Beyond the beyonds.  Too much black print.  Flat out unplayable.  But we broke it up into manageable chunks, slowly worked through the notes, the rhythm, the key signature.  Row by row, I watched my students get the job done.  Some lessons were work sessions, pounding the notes.  Eventually, it coalesced into a polished piece. 

Reading is like this.

Easy books are a good thing if they are good books.  That’s why, when I want a light read, I go to my stack of quality children’s literature.  Wind in the Willows is ever so much more satisfying than Whence Comes the Hunk.

Most reading is of the bread and butter variety.  Whether you have eclectic tastes or you gravitate toward a particular genre, there are books a plenty to read.  Memoirs, mystery, devotional, relational, informative, helpful books.  We all love stories.

Here’s an easy definition of a challenge book:  a book you have to push yourself to read.  A worthy challenge book will reward you and keep you at it.  Slow the pace down, take small bites, and row by row, you’ll bring in the crop. 

Sometimes it became apparent that the piece I assigned my student wasn’t a good fit.  So I unassigned it.   The same goes with books.  A hard-to-read book is not necessarily a good book.  It may just be poorly written.

These three levels of effort can apply to most occupations:  jogging, friendships (when you hear the word challenge friendship does a face come to mind? she asks smiling), mechanics, cooking, thinking….life.  

After Five Five-Star Books in a row, I didn’t expect to read a sixth stellar book.  A friend loaned me this book, and I decided I’d better read and return it.  We had swapped books of local pioneer stories and the one I sent her wasn’t really that good.  I approached Home Below Hell’s Canyon with a neutral attitude. 

Well.

This book whirled me around.  During the Depression Grace and Len Jordan bought a sheep ranch in Hell’s Canyon.  With their three young children, they worked to make a go of it.  Danger, isolation, toil, trials were daily companions.  Jordan does not resort to high drama, nor does she syrup the narrative. 

The life of the Jordan family was so foreign to a typical family’s life in 2010.  Risks had to be taken, decisions had to be made, chores had to get done…all without a husband a cell phone call away.  The pace of life was measured, time was carefully apportioned for the family and ranch hands to be fed and provisioned.  It was typical to can 1,000 quarts of fruits, vegetables and meat for the year to come.

What fascinated me was the education of the children using the Calvert School’s correspondence course.  The Jordans homeschooled before homeschool was a word!  The way Grace Jordan met the challenges of educating the kids while running a ranch is worth the cost of the book. 

This book is worthy. I hope to re-read it down the road.  Satisfying stuff.

Len Jordan went on to become governor of Idaho and a US Senator. 

Grace Jordan wrote four more books, taught journalism and English at various Idaho universities and has an elementary school named after her. 

 

I love weddings, I do. 

Where else do you get to fling flowers up in the air?   There is something glorious about a celebration, dressing up, taking vows, sharing food, taking pictures.  In the casualization (made that word up!) of our culture we find ourselves with very little ceremony in our lives. Besides it’s jolly good fun!  It takes a lot of work, but the rewards are wonderful.

Last week’s wedding was unique for us: my husband was the officiant!  The groom has been our friend since 1981 and he wanted the person tying the knot to be personally connected.

  

Have you seen a Unity Sand ceremony?  The bride and groom pour their sand into a common vessel, a visual representation of oneness of the couple.

 

Blessings, our friends, on your marriage.

I called my cousin Rebecca when her husband died of cancer.  Her quiet words, spoken ten years ago, are barnacled to my soul: It was a privilege to be his wife.

That’s exactly how I feel after 32 years of marriage.  It is, it was, it continues to be a privilege to be his wife.  Happy Anniversary, my love!