There is a trombone living in my house. I’m trying to make friends with it, but it’s hard.
To be honest, we’ve never been a band family. I never was in band. Diane wasn’t either. Nor did Matt spend one minute in band. (There was, of course, that memorable 6th grade boys’ choir concert that forced us all to keep reminding each other that their voices were changing.)
But Chris didn’t choose to be in middle school choir. He’s in the band. So, as I said, a trombone has come to live in our house.
Baseball I understand well. And football. And basketball. Parts of soccer. Even choir. But a trombone isn’t there in my repertoire, shaped as my life has been by a cappella singing.
So far he can play one song.
I’m not sure what that song is, though. At times, it bears some resemblance to “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” And whatever it is, he plays it again . . . and again . . . and again.
So I’m begging for help from others who’ve had 6th grade instrumentalists. Does it get better? Quieter? More on key? More diversified? Is the trombone the LOUDEST instrument in the band? Is it wrong to suggest the garage as an acoustically perfect place for practice? Would it be wrong to suggest the Porches’ house next door (since this would probably be quiet compared to the drums Ryan played all those years)? Would it be wrong to say that the dogs in the back yard seem to be pleading with him to come back there to serenade them?
This I know: if he someday decides to stick with the trombone, then I’ll be one of the world’s great trombone lovers.
But in the meantime, while he’s just meeting a requirement, I need your help here.
Surrounded by Joyce, Kellie and Jim, Trellis and Chris, Corey and Sally, and Ryan and Amber, Gwynneth Curtis took his last breath yesterday at 3:15 p.m. Anyone who knew Gwynneth knew how much he loved singing, so we can only imagine his delight at having Kellie sing over him during his last hours. That’s an angelic voice! (As I write that, I recall when our praise team at Highland was Kellie, Wendy [Wray] Ogren, Brandon Scott Thomas, and David Chrane. Now THAT is a praise team!)
As a shepherd of the Highland Church, Gwynneth taught me so much: about devotion to scripture, about love of family, and about the mission of Christ.
Not only were he and Joyce former missionaries in Europe, but he remained a trainer and equipper of missionaries there–as a missionary-in-residence at ACU and then (the last two years) as a minister with Eastern European Mission.
A few Wednesday nights we’ve had prayers for missions around the world, with various people leading the prayer time by continent. If Gwynneth was around, I’d always ask him to lead the session for Europe. Usually I’d sneak around from room to room, making sure it was going well–which, of course, it always does with people like the Brooms (Africa), the Hendersons (Asia), and the Gibbs (South America) involved. What I noticed in Gwynneth’s room was that there was usually not much time left for prayer, because he kept naming families whom he wanted everyone to pray for! Was there a missionary from Churches of Christ in Europe that Gywnneth didn’t know, love, and pray for? I doubt it.
I’ll miss this good man.
Today is September 1, so . . .
Happy birthday, Dad. Still clinging to your 60s! (My first couple years as preacher for the College Church in Searcy my PARENTS were in their 40s.) Glad you were born. My life wouldn’t have been the same. 
And to others, happy dove hunting. Dove season opens today. We won’t get to go until this weekend. Big year for Chris: he gets to move from a BB gun to a real shotgun (all right, it’s a 410, but that’s still a shotgun!).
By the way, as the Mexican menu theme continues, I make some pretty mean dove fajitas. Keep those in mind for this blog block fiesta we’re talking about. I’ve also made quail fajitas and sandhill crane fajitas, but that’s for another season.