Music of the Soul

Stephani and her little family came to visit one last time before moving to Clovis, NM. We had spent the past year getting to know each other, a reunion that I had not anticipated since she was born. Twenty-eight years later, mother and daughter reunited. She and her family were coming to go through boxes to find everything I had on my pregnancy, correspondence with her adoptive parents, pictures, etc. We found lots of little treasures in one box that seemed to have a mixture of artifacts from my life that had nothing to do with each other. Layer after layer was extracted and examined. Tiny piles grew into larger piles as we determined the nature of each item. At the very bottom of the box there was a Ziploc bag with gold medals from music competitions that I participated in as a teenager living in Indiana.

I gathered up the medals in my hand and began to examine them to recall the categories that I participated in. This process brought to memory other performances and auditions. I knew that I had memorabilia for these as well, so I began pulling everything out to find any proof of my musical endeavors. As each item was recovered and placed in a separate area on the dining room table, I began to reflect on how my musical journey began and where it took me.

Shortly after moving to Indiana, my parents bought a studio upright piano. A luxury my mother had often dreamed about but knew that the family budget could not permit. After the sale of our home in California and the purchase of the new home in Indiana, the funds were available. I was eight years old, close to turning nine when this beautiful piece of furniture was wheeled into the front room. I was in awe and amazement and was excited to touch the ivory keys. My father had intended the piano as a gift for my mother, however, he knew that at least one of his children would ultimately "own" it. My mother was patient with me and my endless pounding out of notes as I worked to master pieces that I had heard my mother play.

As I advanced through my education, I found less and less time to play during the week and often spent Sunday, after church, playing every hymn found in the family hymn book. After a couple of hours, I would hear my mother: "That's enough. I think it's time for peace and quiet." This never stopped me from this weekly ritual. I was never good enough to perform at church or any other venue, but I loved playing for myself and my family.

Four years after the arrival of the piano, I entered the sixth grade, and during one of the weekly music classes, the band director and the choir director talked about the music programs at the junior high. I went home really excited, thrusting the flyer for the band into my mother's hands, exclaiming: "I want to play the flute in the band!" Within a week, we found ourselves at the junior high for an open house. We received a tour of the band room, the equipment room, and the practice rooms. Afterwhich, Mr. Debis entertained questions. My father asked Mr. D. if there would be any issues with me playing the clarinet and getting braces. Mr. D. stated that there wouldn't be any issues and that he would love to have a new clarinetist. I glared at my dad and expressed my desire to play the flute. My dad explained that he played the clarinet and that he could help me.

When band classes started, I was placed playing third part clarinet - second to last chair. This continued through 6th, 7th, and halfway through 9th grade. For some reason, I gained a desire to be better than the third part and began practicing every day. During second semester try-outs, I was placed in the second chair, playing the first part. This desire continued to burn through me even after the spring term, well into summer. I found myself practicing both the piano and the clarinet; mastering every piece of music that I could get my hands on.

Ninth grade became the year that I began to outshine most of my bandmates. The first two weeks of school were dedicated to preparing for try-outs and competing for chair placement. When the day came for the clarinet section to perform, we were placed in the seats that we were in during the previous year, except for a student who had moved into the area over the summer and had played for Mr. D. prior to school starting. She was placed in the first chair; moving the first chair student to second place and me to third. The tryouts began with the first chair performing the required pieces and scales as directed by Mr. D. Melissa, who was in the second chair, performed her pieces. She didn't play as well as the first chair, so she retained the second chair. Then it was my turn. I played each piece and each scale without error and was moved directly to the first chair. The rest of the tryouts continued in this manner until all students were placed. I spent the entire first semester defending my position, as the other two students wanted the coveted seat back. I never lost.

This improvement in musical performance was acknowledged by Mr. D. on several occasions. He also encouraged me to audition for the Indiana All-State Honors Band. He invested the time with me to help me get prepared for the auditions.

Up until this point, I had never received any private instruction or assistance from my father, who was never around, due to his work schedule. However, my father drove the two hours to the auditions so that I could compete for a chair. After arriving at the campus and checking in, we were directed to the room where the audition would occur. We sat outside the room waiting to be called in. I was so nervous. About 15 minutes passed before one of the judges came out asking me to come in. My father was not permitted to come in and was instructed to stay seated. The audition process was completely new to me, however, I had mastered sight-reading and knew that would be one of the criteria. After playing the three separate pieces, I was excused and was told that my band director would be notified of the results in a few weeks.

The drive home was just as silent as the drive to the campus. About 30 minutes into the drive my father says: "I didn't know you could play like that."

I smiled at him and said: "I know."

The results eventually were posted and I was awarded a spot and was notified when sectional tryouts would take place. Long story short, I placed, playing the first part with about four other clarinetists. We had to master all the concert pieces within a month's time. We were bussed in from our respective schools each Saturday and Sunday until the performance.

Like food, air, and water, music became a necessity of life for me because of these experiences. Some time later, as I continued to practice, play and perform, I found solace in music. It eventually became a mode of communication for me, to express all kinds of thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I felt a strong spiritual connection with music and I also felt a closeness to God each time I played. At a particular period in my life, music became a healing balm for me. One particular experience has shaped me into the person I am today.

Redemption Through Music

The previous nine months had been difficult but had been a tremendous life experience that brought me closer to God. Growing up in an LDS home with parents who were strict, provided a solid religious foundation that has supported me my entire life. This foundation, however, did not prevent me from making choices contrary to my upbringing. Out of a fit of rage, I had stormed out of my parent's home on Thanksgiving morning a year before, declaring that they were unfair and that they should accept James as part of the family. I didn't return for family dinner. In fact, I didn't return for many days, having found refuge at my boyfriend's house. Within a few weeks, after moving to Utah to live with my sister, I discovered that I was pregnant.

I was terrified of what my father would say and how my mother would feel. I knew that they would both be disappointed. I returned to California and informed James that we were expecting. He did not take the news well. I felt the only option I had left was to tell his parents. That didn't go as expected either. In a short period of time, I found myself in a stranger's home expecting my first child without the support of James, my parents, or his. I found work within walking distance from my host family and worked every day, walking three miles to and from work. The pregnancy was difficult and I was alone. I would visit my mother when my father was at work and would walk home before his arrival.

This solitude was painful and I found myself spiraling into a deep depression. I searched for ways to be productive outside of work. Over time, I rediscovered my love for literature and began collecting books. I first read Watership Down, Les Miserables, and a few others. I began to immerse myself in daily scripture study, keeping a journal of my thoughts and feelings. The loneliness, still trying to creep in, grabbed a hold of my heart and I found myself spiraling again.

I shared my feelings with my mother during one of our visits and she reminded me of the great love I had for music and my talents with the piano. I thought about what my mother said for a long time before I decided to pull music out of storage in my parent's attic. I discovered so much that I had loved and forgotten. As I reviewed each piece of music I discovered one of my favorites: "O Divine Redeemer," a piece that I had practiced but never mastered. I began practicing this piece every day during my pregnancy. I was consumed and overcome with emotion every time I practiced.

I practiced intently for the next couple of weeks, seeking assistance from my Heavenly Father, on a daily basis. There was a part of me that sought redemption for my shortcomings and I felt that if I could just play this sacred hymn without error and with full purpose of heart, I would know that I had been forgiven my failings. During every practice, I would stumble over the same passage of music, causing my heart to sink into despair. I had made a commitment to play the piano at church for a special meeting and I felt that I would fail.

Soon the day arrived, and with great anxiety and anticipation, I arrived at church early to practice the piece at the grand piano located at the front of the chapel. The room was empty when I arrived. I turned on the lights as I walked toward the piano with a prayer in my heart. With trembling hands, I raised the lid, exposing the strings, and then sat at the piano to organize each sheet of music in its proper order. With a deep breath and another prayer, I laid my fingers upon the keyboard to play the first chords and scale of the first few measures. As I came to the passage of concern, I slowed down and took in another breath, exhaling slowly as my fingers found the keys. I made a few mistakes but continued playing through to the end.

Upon completion of the practice, my friend, Sam walked over to me and expressed how beautifully I had played. He was glad to see me at the piano again. He walked me to my favorite pew and sat with me, talking about anything that popped up until the services began. The meeting went as scheduled and I felt my stomach twist and turn as my time to perform drew near. When my name was announced, I jumped a little in my seat, took a deep breath, rising to my feet. I walked calmly and slowly to the front of the chapel with another prayer in my heart. I sat at the piano, examined the music, surveyed the keys, closed my eyes, and reached upward with a final plea.

As I opened my eyes, a sweet calm came over my entire body. The notes seemed to pop off the page and were clear to my vision. As I placed my hands upon the keys for the first chords, I felt a presence and then a sensation like warm gloves stretched around my hands and up my arms. I played the piece with more emotion and expression than I had ever done before. The full meaning of the piece swept over me and through the piano and out across the congregation. A hush filled the space as I concluded the piece without error. The silence permeated every soul within that room. I slowly returned to Sam's side filled with gratitude and thanksgiving for the tremendous gift from a Father who had loved me my entire life. I knew at that moment that I had been forgiven of my failings. My heart full, I recalled a scriptural passage: "For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads" (D&C 25:12).

Music a Source of Healing

A message to a friend

I was reminded of a time in my life that was wrought with turmoil and the comfort that I found in music composed by Mark McKenzie on my drive to school this morning when my Pandora played the theme music to Saving Sarah Cain.

I have often sought solace in music and I play the piano when I need to release emotions/feelings. At one particular point in my life, while working at The Cheesecake Factory, I didn't have time to play, but I could listen to music while at work. One of my Pandora stations is labeled The Mission and often features beautiful scores from dramatic films. On this particular day, I heard for the first time the music to "Prayer Changes Everything." I immediately went searching for piano sheet music.

I found the music on Mark McKenzie's website and attempted to purchase a download of the sheet music, but continued to have difficulty with the payment screen. I gave up and resigned myself to the fact that I may never have this piece in my ever-growing inventory.

About a day later, I received a personal email from Mark McKenzie regarding his composition and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I replied back, expressing my desire for the piano music, explaining to him how much the piece impacted me when I heard it for the first time and that it brought me great solace, and that I could not, for some reason purchase it from his website. I also let him know that I could not find the score for Saving Sarah Cain at the local music stores and the staff could not find it in their catalogue. I asked him if there was another way. As my intent was to purchase, I expected a suggestion on how to make that happen.

I am not sure if it was the same day or a day or two later, but I received another email from Mark McKenzie. In this email, he shared with me the background for the piece. He explained to me that music has often been a source of healing for his broken soul and that he understood the effect this piece had on me. We engaged in discussion for a couple of days - developing a connection that I had not experienced before with someone who has been recognized for his achievements in cinematic music.

What surprised me the most about this exchange was the gift of the piano sheet music along with his good wishes for me to find comfort. I was so overcome with emotion, that I had to excuse myself from work and take a walk.

I share this with you in the hopes that you can find solace. The music inspired by Mark's personal experiences has left a mark on my heart, and when I heard it this morning I thought of you. When you get a chance, please listen to "Prayer Changes Everything."