Newspaper for gift-wrapping.
Charlie Brown stamps.
Extra rehearsals.
(Endless) to-do lists.
Christmas concerts.
Amazon packages.
Bulletin drafts.
Doxology Press orders.
Shipping deadlines.
Various versions of Jingle Bells in lessons every week.
These are the things our December days are made of (especially if you're a musician!). As much as we long for a slower pace at this time of the year, the truth is this is one of the busiest seasons of all.
We see lots of posts this time of year with ideas for random acts of kindness:
"Smile at someone on the street"
"Say thank you to our service men and women"
"Tape change to a vending machine"
"Pay for the person behind you in the drive-through"
Treating each other with kindness and being intentional about the ways we serve others is important all year round, but the holidays are a good excuse to do a little something extra.
As musicians, we have the opportunity to treat people with kindness and spread a little holiday cheer by sharing the gift of music. After all, as Buddy the Elf says, "The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!"
Today, I'm sharing 25 ideas for random acts of (musical) kindness. Some are easy enough to do on your own, others would work well with the help of a few friends, and others would be perfect group projects for your choir or studio!
Thanksgiving.
It's that time of the year when people seem to become a bit more intentional about counting their blessings and naming things they're thankful for. A time when people gather together from near and far to share a special meal around the table. A time when people google things like "how to cook a turkey" and "watch macy's parade online" (No? Am I the only one?).
Maybe it's the time of year, or maybe it's a response to the chaos of life the past few months, but I find myself needing to take a step back, needing to create space for thankfulness. Eugene Peterson said it best:
"We stop, whether by choice or through circumstance, so that we can be alert and attentive and receptive to what God is doing in and for us, in and for others, on the way. We wait for our souls to catch up with our bodies." -Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way
What does it mean to be a musician in the 21st century?
Steve and I talk about this often. From where we stand, the 21st century requires musicians to be flexible, creative, and versatile, possessing a wide variety of skills that can be used in a wide variety of settings.
Instead of doing just one thing, we (and many of our friends) have built careers doing many different things - teaching, performing, writing/blogging, presenting, directing, and working in arts administration.
Some call it freelancing, others call it music entrepreneurship, or being a portfolio musician or musicpreneur.
The world tells us to hustle and work hard, make it happen, strive for bigger and better. But have you ever stopped to think about what your soul is telling you? It's an interesting thought, isn't it.
That still, small voice inside often says things like, "Wait" and "Slow down" or "Breathe." Because "the soul and the schedule don't follow the same rules" (Emily P. Freeman). Sometimes, we just need to be still. Sometimes, we need to not only remember our smallness, but celebrate it.
I love working with five-year-olds. I love their creativity, their fearlessness, their willingness to try new things, their crazy imaginations, and the way they make everything silly and fun. Five just might be my favorite age.
Some suggest that thinking like a five-year-old is beneficial for creativity, leadership skills, and growing a business (source). After all, five-year-olds are about as creative as they come (try asking one to explain why the sky is blue). Next time you need a fresh spark of creativity or you want to see the world from a new perspective, channel your inner five-year-old. Here's how:
Ask questions. Have you been around a five-year-old lately? They ask lots of questions. Want to challenge the status quo? Ask more questions. Want to understand the heart behind that decision? Ask more questions. Want to create something unique and innovative? Ask more, well, you know.
Church musicians, in my opinion, have the dual role of making/teaching music and encouraging faith formation within a community. It can be challenging to negotiate these two roles, but I believe ministry is just that - balancing and negotiating, challenging and encouraging, building up and bringing together.
It's not just a job. It's something we pour our hearts into.
Today, I'm sharing a few books to add to your bookshelf (or share with a church musician you know!). Many of these are practical, encouraging reads written by church musicians, for church musicians. What could be better?
"She reads books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live." - Annie Dillard
I haven't always been a reader, but for the past few years, I've tried to be more intentional about reading for pleasure, fulfillment, inspiration, well-being, knowledge, and rest. I've read books about love and faith; balance, leadership, and goal-setting; living, giving, and relationships. Each one has taught me something new about myself, my priorities, and the person I want to become.
This year, I hope to read at least six new books, chosen from the list below. Are any of these on your list? Are there any books you'd recommend as must-reads? Follow along with my reading adventures at #ashleydanyewreads!
*Disclosure: I get commissions for purchases made through links in this post.
I'm reading Emily Freeman's A Million Little Ways right now — so many good words and such a fresh perspective on life and living and grace and art. Created in the image of God, we are called to serve and give and create in a multitude of ways — ways that reflect His glory. The journey to discovering these callings is a personal one and as I read Emily's account of her story, I see pieces of my own journey.
"My life is the city but my soul is the sea."
These words practically jumped off the page when I read them.
We've all had those moments when life feels adventurous and exciting. We thrive on the hustle and bustle of those around us and we feel as if we're on top of the world. Life is big and grand like the intimidating lines and finely-crafted architectural detail of the early skyscrapers, built a century ago and still standing majestically along Main Street. There in the distance — our name in lights.
And then there are those days when we want to hide. When we drive to a place where no one will find us because stepping into the warm rays of sunlight that hit our front steps and facing the world seems too much to bear. Instead of attention and a desire to be noticed, to be known, we long for security, for peace, for stillness. Our souls long for refreshment and solitude.
Rochester is a mid-size city.
We say it's just the right size for us: lots of arts and culture; small restaurants with a cozy, neighborhood feel; and you can get anywhere in about 20 minutes. I've grown used to the refrigerated delivery trucks parked outside on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, the street sweeper, the beeping of the bus as it pauses mid-route at the stop around the corner. There's something comforting about it all — life being lived around you, people coming and going, a sense of community.
But then there are those moments when city life stops for a moment. There's a lull in the traffic on East Avenue. The only other person out walking is far in the distance. The only sounds are those of the birds happily chirping in the nearby crabapple and the wind gently nudging its branches.
I love these moments.
Instinctively, I take in a deep breath. I notice the pool blue sky, the white petals of the dogwood falling along my path, the fluffy peonies larger than the size of my hand. And then I remember that though my life is the city much of the time, my soul is the sea.
Penelope is a bright-eyed, curly-headed girl of almost 8. She often skips into her lesson, singing me the song she composed that week. But one week, in the middle of playing through "Beautiful Dreamer," she fought back tears as she half-whispered, "No one wants to listen to my songs." I put down my notebook and pencil and moved to the bench to sit beside her. "My friends just want to play with me. They don't want to hear me play the piano." We talked about people and how everyone is different. We all like different things and are good at different things. Some people like to be with other people and others would rather be by themselves. "I like to be by myself," she said quietly. "Me, too," I said with a smile. She brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye and we went back to our lesson. Sometimes, it's more important to sit and talk for a minute than hearing every piece on the assignment sheet. Sometimes, lessons are more about building relationships and trust than playing and making music. As musicians, we know how much our emotions impact what we do. Creating music is a vulnerable act, a bearing of our very souls to those listening. Many times I've felt insecure about this and insecure about my abilities when they are not affirmed by others. Maybe you've been there, too. I want to be a teacher that acknowledges these struggles with openness and honesty. Someone who offer that affirmation and encouragement or at least lend a listening ear and say "I understand. I know what you're feeling." I believe this is part of what we are called to do as teachers. We listen when they're going through a hard time, encourage their pursuit of musical excellence, and celebrate their achievements.
We also laugh at their jokes and smile when they're being silly. Like when Graham, a sandy-haired, blue-eyed 1st grader asked to read me a comic he memorized from the New Yorker. At the end of his lesson, he sat on the bench and "performed" the comic for me with a different voice for each character. His mom said the first thing he told her when he got home was that he "made me laugh" with his story.
We are musicians and supporters, encouragers and facilitators, but we're also listeners and mentors, friends and confidants. We are piano teachers.
