The Search for a Pianist

 

Up until last Sunday, the process of hiring a new pianist for Massey’s Chapel was unpleasant and discouraging.

We advertised several ways and snagged a handful of applicants. Massey’s pays a very good salary, and I thought musicians would be beating down our doors, but it hasn’t turned out that way. I was given two names of musicians who have played for churches, but they don’t want to do that anymore. They told me churches overwork and underpay their musicians.

Not Massey’s!, I pleaded. One hour on Sunday! No choir! No second service! No offertory and no postlude! No organ! They would be expected to practice, of course, and we do ask for two "musical offerings” (3-4 minutes) each Sunday from the pianist, but it’s their own choice of hymns ideally played with their own flair.

The musical offerings were favorites of the congregation when Andrew was with us. He made them into his own masterpieces, and the congregation chorused with “Amen!” when he finished. We liked to try to name which hymn he had played, and this made us all more hymn-literate.

We do not expect our next musician to be Andrew; goodness, we’ve talked enough about that!

Pianists have been auditioning (most of them for two consecutive Sundays) during the regular worship service since the beginning of January. Even though all of them have resumes a mile long, they’ve mostly been young men who are unfamiliar with church. One of them did not know what Communion is. Another did not understand the concept of singing verses.

In general, those who have auditioned have trouble reading music in a hymnal because the treble and bass clefs are separated by a bunch of verses. Most of them played too slow, and their musical offerings were straight-up hymns played tortuously slow without the “flourishes” that I requested. The pianists have failed to adapt the musical-offering hymns in their own way, even the jazz musician. Was I not clear?

Most of the musicians attempted to download their music with varying degrees of success rather than borrowing a Hymnal. One of them played four verses of “The Old Rugged Cross” as a musical offering but left off the refrain – because he did not know the hymn.  One of them played two lesser-known Baptist hymns! 

None of them lives in Durham. They have driven in from Raleigh, Greensboro, and Mebane.

Sunday attendance is way down, and no one “amens” anymore.  The worship service lacks its previous uplifting energy.  Up until last Sunday, Massey’s Chapel was getting sullen about the auditions, and they miss Andrew. We all miss him, me most of all.

However, last Sunday, Becky from Mebane arrived. She is more mature and used to playing for churches. She can sight-read hymns. Her playing for congregational singing was just right, her musical offerings were outstanding, and the Amen Chorus began once again. I was giddy with relief and could hardly focus on my part of the service. 

We have one more applicant who will audition the next two Sundays - also from Mebane -- who was raised United Methodist, hallelujah. Becky will return on March 3, and then the Staff-Parish Committee will have to make a decision.  

Here’s what I know: God is with us. My prayer – and the prayer of the church – has been that God will bring to us the right musician.

The Move to Pittsboro

 

A side creek of the Haw River

There has been so much happening the past few months that I could not blog about in a public forum. First was our decision to leave Elderberry. Our given reason was the distance to church and to our children – and that was true, but not the whole truth. Another reason was the slow Internet that turned parts of my job from quick-efficient into agonizing wasted time. That also was true, but not the whole truth.

The whole truth involved the coming of the Moriah Energy Center a mile from our home. This is a facility that will store millions of gallons of liquified natural gas. Isn’t our country supposed to be moving away from fossil fuels? Why yes. But when I look around Chatham Park where we now live and see hundreds of homes being built to use natural gas furnaces, it’s obvious a great deal of money is involved with this.

Of course, Elderberry suspected the reason we really were moving, and there was some amount of grief and hostility directed toward us, which was difficult.

I stayed stressed out and frightened that our home buyer would change her mind, and we would end up with two houses. Why would someone choose to live so close to an industrial facility and its inevitable pollution and possible accidents? She was fully aware of the Moriah Energy Center, but she bought our home anyway and seems to be a good fit for the community.  

There was monumental stress around gaining access to our money to pay for the new house. How is it even legal for an investment firm to hold up money that is ours? Every time Keith phoned the investment firm’s call center (obviously somewhere overseas), it took a minimum of 30 minutes just to get through, and then communicating was difficult. Keith and I also learned a very hard lesson about the difference between wiring money and electronic transfer of money. It all worked out in the end.

Then there was the actual move – stressful under any circumstances.

Ah well. We are now mostly unpacked in our new home. Our neighbors also are moving in; the houses are being built, and so we’re all new. This makes me hopeful I can make new friends. Grocery stores, drug stores, hardware stores, restaurants are all within easy driving distance; walking distance, in fact.

The drive to church is 25 minutes instead of 45. That’s not as close as it should be, but it’s better. I don’t have to use an interstate at all.

Yesterday, Keith and I walked on a trail near the Haw River, five minutes from our home (photo above).

Spring is on the way, and God has been with us all along.

Family Scrapbook December 2023

 

Zach, Rachel, Eric, and Michelle - what a beautiful family

And with Mimi and Gramps

Jonathan, Eric, Rachel, Katherine at the Wendell Christmas lights

Katherine invited me to her home to watch the Taylor Swift movie.

My kind of day!