AdventWord #Covanent

                                   Our Wedding Photo. I was so young-looking then By Ann W. 

Today's word is " Covenant."

According to the dictionary, the definition is " an agreement" or " to agree by lease, deed or other contract. 

Brian and I made a covenant with each other eight years ago. 

Marriage is wonderful, if it is with the right partner. 

Marriage is also work. It is not the perpetual state of bliss that Hallmark Christmas movies want people to believe. 

It is a binding contract with another person, the state, and {for people of faith} Creator God.  

In eight years, Brian and I have been thru several surgeries, a cancer diagnosis, deaths of close family members, and a move.

Creator God sent Godself , Jesus, as a reminder that God is, has been, and always will be here. 

This evening, we will remember that covenant as we celebrate God-as-human being born. 

Merry Christmas , everyone. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Christmas Eve/ Advent 4. 

" Merry Merry" versus " December Blues "

                                          Chapel set up for " Longest Night" service at church 

I love Advent. 

 I also love The Feast of The Nativity-- bot the evening liturgy on December 24 and the entirely different but equally wonderful Christmas Day liturgy on December 25. 

But I am NOT a fan of December. As the days get darker, and my Seasonal Affective depression gets worse, I struggle to find purpose and hope in a culture that gets entirely too over-commercialized at this time of year. 

In spite of the genuine joy found for most people, there is no doubt that these dark days, when the sun slowly stays away longer until December 21, bring some read sadness to many people. 

But there is hope in the darkness of December.  During the darkest week of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, a Child was born Who would change human history forever. He was born -- not to wealthy parents, but to a poor carpenter's wife. 

This Child would grow up to show humanity a new way, a Way of Love. 

It is okay if we are not always-- or really never-- into the tinsel trimmings of this month. As Followers of Christ, we find real joy in living into His Nativity-- and remembering what a Gift it is to call Him, Brother, Teacher and Savior. 

Merry Christmas, Friends. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Advent , 2023

The Gift of Music Lessons

                                            Photo of me at the gorgeous piano at my Atlanta family's home over Thanksgiving.  Photo by Barbara , aka Mom. 

Wednesday, November 29 marks the one-year anniversary of my piano study journey. 

I know folks are probably sick of me flooding social media with music-related content-- but hey-- I look at everyone's kids & grandkids every damn day. 

I get it . Progeny are blessings. 

But for those of us who find ourselves at midlife with no progeny {be this by choice or circumstance}, we often need to carve different paths for the second half of life.  Before anyone skewers me online for being " anti-parent" and " hateful"{yeah, this actually happened to me} I know how important parenthood is-- and I respect the good parents I know. 

But parenthood and grandparenthood are not in my path. At midlife, I've been given a wonderful chance to learn music-- piano music in particular.  I've always wanted to learn piano-- so realizing a lifelong dream at middle-age is an incredible blessing. 

I am not the easiest piano student. I'm neurodivergent, and part of my " crossed wiring" has me struggle with the right & left sides of my brain communicating effectively. Additionally, my eyes have trouble tracing-- which is why I could never play softball or tennis and am not-- as much as I tried-- a good basketball player. 

First of all, I'd like to thank Brian, my spouse. Without him, nothing I do would be possible, including music lessons. For nearly every Wednesday, Brian sits patiently while I am in my half-hour lesson, staring at the beautiful guitars, working crossword puzzles, or chatting with the staff. He's proud of me-- and I am grateful for his support. In addition to transporting me to my lessons, he puts up with my daily practicing-- and even says he enjoys listening to me. Often, I'll play the same phrase over and over, trying to perfect the notes and/or rhythm and timing. 

My teacher makes this possible too. While I am sure there are many wonderful piano teachers in the Pensacola area, having someone who understands the neurodivergent brain and can adjust the teaching methods to accommodate my needs is such a gift. 

Music education is so important. In this crazy, divided world, there are few things left that unite us as people. Music unites us-- and makes us human. From a spiritual perspective art-- any art-- allows us to co-create with our Creator. 

It is never too late to fulfil a childhood dream. And, since I've no obligations to children or grandchildren, I can more fully focus on music. I'm grateful that I can always find time to practice daily.  Brian and I designed a room that is mine. I call it the Music Room {Hats off to my late friend Lynne " Doc" Lauderdale -- she loved her own Music Room. }

Music gives me more self-confidence. There is a lot of satisfaction in learning something that teachers to me was " impossible" due to clumsy hands and short attention span. Interestingly, music study has improved my attention span. It has also improved my problem-solving abilities.  Sight reading songs before lessons can help with basic problem-solving skills. 

Music study has also brought more wonderful people into my life. Musicians love talking shop with other musicians, and I've gotten so much encouragement from other musicians I know. 

Making music is life-changing for me. 

With a song in my heart...

Sarahbeth McCarren 
 

A Complicated Stance

                                          Well, I'd never thought I'd make a public statement on the Israel/ Palestine conflict before... but here we are. 

M name is Sarahbeth. I stand with Israel. 

Normally I'd never make such a clear statement on such a controversial subject{I gave up politics on social media years ago and my life as been much better since then} 

However, as a Christian--- and a Christian with Ashkenazi Jewish DNA, I must stand with Israel. 

To me, this conflict is not about politics. I'm putting aside my understanding of Israel's complicated, controversial history in favor of standing up for what is morally right. 

As An American of Ashkenazi descent-- I understand all too well what state-sanctioned murder can look like. 

Murdering innocents of a people who you neither like nor trust is never okay. 

My forbearers were refugees from a cruel minority party that rose to power by murdering innocents. 

I support Israel because the horrors of the Holocaust are real-- in spite of what some deniers might insist. 

Israle hasn't always been right in every conflict-- especially in recent years. 

As an American, I am aware of this fact. 

As a person of faith, supporting Israel in this war is essential. 

State-sanctioned terrorism is never okay, and Hamas are terrorists. 

Let me also say that I've also never been a Zionist. I respect people I know, and love who think that Israel is blameless, but that is not what I see. 

My support of Israel is coming from a place of faith and a humanitarian concern rather than " playing politics" with Americans who see things differently. 

For we Christians, we are preparing to remember the birth of a baby.. a baby born to Jewish parents in a territory that was occupied by the Roman Empire. 

It is for that Baby's sake-- and for the sake of so many families torn apart by the actions of an evil group-- that I support Israel. 

Peace, friends...

Sarahbeth McCarren 

21 Nov 2023

Heavy Burdens.. and a safe space

 

                                           Brian and I walked the labyrinth on our church's campus thus afternoon.  Photo by Me . 

Happy Holidays, y'all. 

 Saying " Happy Holidays IS NOT a battle in the imagined " war on Christmas", it is merely acknowledging that many Americans celebrate a myriad of special days during these last two months of the Gregorian calendar year. 

But I digress {again} 

The holiday season, one that is rooted in joy and thanksgiving, is hard for many people. 

It is extremely difficult for many of us to live up to the Norman Rockwellish  portrayal of this time of year that Madison Avenue and Hallmark's Christmas Movie marathon tries to sell us. 

Scrolling through my Facebook feed, I see countless ads for " Black Friday " deals. Coming from retailing families on both sides of my lineage, there is NOTHING " fun about the Friday after our National Day of Thanksgiving. 

Furthermore, there is that White-washed, inaccurate, racist and harmful narrative about the " Pilgrims" landing here in search of religious freedom.  I've had to totally reframe T-Day from a national celebration to a personal one: the entire month of November is a month where I celebrate the bounty that The Divine has given to me in the waning year. 

All this to days that I struggle with Seasons al Depression during what marketers tell us is The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. 

Today I was really struggling with the seasonal depression, so Brian and I drove to our church and walked our beautiful outdoor labyrinth, which is set as the centerpiece of our Meditation Garden. 

This special, sacred PUBLIC place is the result of A LOT of dreamers ... and even more doers in my congregation.  While this place sits on the property of a Christian church, it is a place for all people to come, sit under the shady or carefully walk the beautiful labyrinth. This space was paid for and is maintained by generous volunteers in my congregation. 

Am I proud of this space? Yes!  

More importantly, I, like many others, need this space this season. While security measures leave many houses of worship locked, or at least monitored by security cameras, this outdoor meditation space is open twenty-four hours seven days per week. The two metal arbors welcome all who seek-- whatever they seek. It is here where people can commune with Nature. 

Plants, trees, and the Earth herself welcome world-weary humans and invite us to lay down our burdens and be reminded that we are enough.  

Before Brian and I walked the labyrinth, I picked up a heavy white stone and put it in the back pocket of my blue jeans. When I arrived at the center of the labyrinth, I placed the heavy white stone in the center of the labyrinth. As I made this simple gesture, I felt my burdens, at least the burdens that I carried today, lift. Turning around, I walked from the center towards the beginning of the labyrinth. 

In case any of my readers are clueless, as to what I am discussing, here is the dictionary definition of  labyrinth . 

I am grateful that this space exists in Pensacola, and I am even more grateful that it exists on the property of  St Christopher's Episcopal Church, Pensacola   

Namaste...

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Nov 17  2023 

Being fully seen{ and NOT judged} as Neurodivergent.

                                          My piano, with the VERY HELPFUL note stickers on the keys. My teacher gave these to me when she realized that I am struggling with eye" tracking" when I change hand positions. 

My name is Sarahbeth. My pronouns are she/her/hers. I was born in 197- {I'm not telling, suffice it to say I am a proud Generation X member} 

I am neurodivergent. Thanks, to my mom's doctor's choice to pull me into the world with forceps, my brain works differently than typical brains. 

As a person who is neurodivergent, but due to the time when I grew up, I had to endure education in a subpar public school. Since my brain is not that of someone with classical autism, nor am I male, my differences were never addressed in school. It is true that a few of my symptoms are that which fall on the " autism spectrum", but many of the neurodivergent traits I have are not in that classification. Plus{and I know some Autism Parents will jump on me for this .. but I know no other descriptive term} I am very " high functioning".  My communication skills were and are not stymied by my neurodivergence at all. 

Do I possess an " autistic" trait or two? Yes. 

Am I " autistic?" No. 

I do not even fit the criteria for Aspergers' Syndrome-- although again, some of the traits do overlap. Anyone who knows me well is aware of my tendency to be a Smarty Pants. 

" Book-learning" except for math, came pretty easy for me. I love to read, and I retain what I read with scary accuracy. 

However, my fine motor skills leave much to be desired, and learning simple skills like typing was difficult {I finally developed my own system of typing accurately, and I am sure my high school typing teacher would shake her head in dismay.} 

P.E. class was disastrous, as I am clumsy, and my eyes do not " track " well. My balance and coordination are not good, so typical " girly" activities like cheerleading and ballet were not possible for me. 

In my adult life, very few people-- even medical professionals, have bothered to ask me about my neurodivergence-- how {we think} it happened and how I am affected daily. 

I don't drive because I cannot drive. I certified occupational therapist evaluated me and attempted to teach me to drive & affirmed that I am not safe on the road. Not too long ago, a woman I knew said to my face:

" It must be nice to have your own chauffeur. " 

No, it is NOT " nice" to not be able to do something that most Americans over the age of sixteen take for granted.  As a matter of fact, it sucks. But I cannot grouse about what I physically cannot do-- grousing never changed a damn thing. 

Bottom line is: My brain works a wee bit differently than most typical people's brains. I've accepted that I am neurodivergent and am learning to celebrate that unique perspective that being Different but Not Less Than { Dr Temple Grandin} gives me. 

In spite of the birth trauma, I am not, and never was, " broken". 

I am a whole, holy child of my Creator. 

I am, just like every other human, am " fearfully & wonderfully made..." 

                                                                - from Psalm 139:14

~~Sarahbeth McCarren

Life With Chronic Pain : Getting it " Fixed"

                                           Me hiking in NC. I was healthier here. Healthier, but still in pain. 

My name is Sarabeth and I suffer from chronic nerve pain. 

At the age of twelve, I needed TWO major surgeries to correct severe scoliosis. 

A titanium device called a Harrington Rod was inserted into my spine in order to correct a seventy-five-degree curvature. 

I was twelve. I'm forty-seven now. 

The surgery to correct the curvature of my spine was necessary. Yet now it is a main reason why I suffer from chronic nerve pain. 

My official diagnosis is " Failed Back Surgery Syndrome" While my scoliosis surgeries did not fail in the technical sense {My back is somewhat straight now}, the problems I deal with now are caused by the implants in my spine. 

For close to four years now, I've been battling the health care system to get a pain-and drug-free solution to my problem. The pandemic, and a need to change pain clinics {that mess is another story for another day} 

Let me say one thing: I DO NOT LIKE DRUGS. As part of the hunt for a solution, I've tried physical therapy, yoga, CBD rubs {which actually does help temporarily} and a TENS unit. 

None of this works for nerve pain. Imaging of my lower back shows that the nerve roots of my lumbar spine look like frayed rope. 

Ouch. 

Currently I am taking two very different medications to control the pain. 

One is Gabapentin, a medicine that works on the central nervous system via the chemical receptors to the brain. It is not a controlled substance. 

On really bad days I take Tramadol, which IS a controlled substance. Due to its potential for abuse, and a family history of alcoholism, I only use this medicine when NEEDED.  

I am waiting for a procedure that will {HOPEFULLY} erase the need for me to take copious amounts of drugs. It is called Radiofrequency Ablation. Here is a good article about the procedure. 

https://www.mayoclinichealthsystem.org/hometown-health/speaking-of-health/radiofrequency-ablation-pain-relief 

In order for my insurance to qualify me for this procedure, I had to undergo TWO injections of a nerve-blocking medication into my lower back. Yuck. 

Thankfully, my messed-up back passed this " test", and I am scheduled for the nerve ablation on October 24. Per insurance, I can only get one side ablated at a time. 

Damn. 

Thanks, Humana.  

I also suffer from a condition called Vasovagal Syncope, which is a fancy word for fainting at triggers. I discovered that was a problem when I went in for a steroid injection at my previous pain clinic and nearly went into cardiac arrest when the nurse stuck an IV in my arm. So, I am not thrilled about TWO IV insertions, but at least I know to tell the nurse to have plenty of IV fluids immediately available. 

A tired, hungry , scared and dehydrated Sarahbeth is a recipe for another near-death experience. 

Y'all I , am tired of being in pain. 

I'm in my late 40s-- with hopefully a long second half of life ahead of me. 

If you pray, please pray that this procedure works. 

All I want is to feel " whole" again. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Oct 8 2023
 

Humans are beautiful creatures

Born with this body type, height and bone structure. Photo by Brian 

Friends, it is time we talk about bodies. 

No, not that talk. 

Rather, we need to talk about how we judge each other based on our physical "packages."

Women, especially, are harmed by the ever-changing world of fashion and manufactured " beauty standards. 

For instance, I am tallish {5 feet 6 inches}, long-limbed and small-boned. My wrists and ankles are tiny. My legs are proportionately longer than my torso. 

While I definitely would not say I am a curvy woman, neither am I " built like a teenaged boy", as one woman casually and cruelly said to me when we were sitting around a campfire. My body is that of a woman-- regardless of my lack of curves. 

I am not a man, and a sure as hell am not built like a boy. 

My husband never complains about my figure, and my doctor says I am healthy { albeit a wee bit underweight, but that is for health concerns} 

This caustic remark by one woman hurt me deeply.  

I saw a Facebook post today that showed two cartoon women standing next to each other in bikinis. Thought bubbles above each head read " She's so beautiful". 

Friends, that is what we should say/think when we see someone.

She's so beautiful. 

He's so handsome. 

They are so attractive. 

Each of us is made in the imago Dei , or Image of God. 

God made each human like God made each plant or animal. 

During this Season of Creation, some of us prayerfully consider how we may better co-exist with all f Creation. Maybe now is a good time to also pause to see the diverse beauty that is evident of a creative, loving Creator in each human face and body we encounter. 

God made us, and we are lovely in God's Eyes. 

Look in the mirror, YOU, my friend, also are made in Imago Dei. 

Amen. 

Sarahbeth McCarren

 

Make a Difference: Mentor

                                     Bill and Marsha, two people who " Took Stock"in Sarahbeth. I cannot begin to list all the lessons they've taught me over my lifetime. 

I am blessed to be " retired. While we certainly have enough money, Brian and I cannot fund huge philanthropic projects. 

We do, however have time to spend. As a person of faith, AND a good citizen, I believe in serving others in however way I am called to serve. There are a lot of needs, and no one can do ALL the work that needs t be done for a more just and equal world. 

I had wanted to get involved with my local Big Brothers/ Big Sisters organization ere in Pensacola. Since I do not drive {NOT my choice}, I felt that it would not be fair to a " little" if I could not treat her to outings such as ball games, festivals, etc. 

I knew of a family whose student went to college on a Take Stock in Children scholarship over in the neighboring county, so last year I began investigating becoming a mentor with this organization. 

Here is the web site: 

https://www.takestockinchildren.org/

My student is an 8th grade girl. I cannot, for privacy's sake, share too much about her publicly, but suffice it to say that she is a delightful child whom I am enjoying getting to know. She and I are still in the " getting-to-know-each-other" phase of our mentorship, and we have much in common {her grades are way better than mine ever were-- especially in 8th grade!} She and I share some hobbies and interests, too. 

Throughout my life, I have been and still am blessed with people to whom I look up-- people I choose to have in my life. Bill and Marsha, pictured above, are two of the most consistent people who " took stock" in me but there are many others. I am grateful to have an opportunity to share some of the wisdom I've gleaned from almost 50 years of life.  

Mentoring is a natural fit for me since I thrive on one-on-one relationships and prefer a five-year commitment to one student rather than receiving a new young person to mentor every August. 

My neurodivergent brain thrives on consistency, so long-term commitments are not a problem for me. 

I've also discovered that my personality suits mentoring an older student rather than helping a pre-kindergarten student with her reading. Of course, that was fun and extremely worthwhile, but just not a good fit for my personality and skill set. 

Time is a treasure that each of us has and spending it wisely to help others is such a blessing-- and our calling as people of faith. 

Amen..

Sarahbeth McCarren 
 

Book Review: The Forgotten Girls A memoir of Friendship & lost Promise in Rural America

                                            Mountain Deer in western NC

I am reading a fascinating book called The Forgotten Girls: A Memoir of Friendship & Lost Promise in Rural America .  The author, Monica Potts, goes back to her small, mostly White, rural community in the Ozarks to try to understand why so many girls in these communities across this nation. 

Both Monica and her best friend, Darci, are promising young teens in Clinton, Arkansas. 

Monica ears a scholarship to an out-of-state school. Darci chooses to party and chase boys in high school and gets stuck in their rural hometown. 

This is a story that I saw get played out many times while growing up in rural northern Appalachia. I am only halfway through the book because it is so damn sad. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree.

Both Monica and Darci came from poor families. My family was solidly middle-class, but I grew up around such rural poverty as theirs. 

Did I experience rural poverty firsthand? Thankfully the answer to that is NO. 

However, I DID see the sort of poverty that the author discusses in this book. Let me tell you about my lab partner: I'll call her Patty. 

Patty and I met in high school. We took many of the same classes but ran in completely different social circles. We spent a year dissecting various preserved critters in Anatomy and Physiology during our senior year, but never became friends. 

Her friends considered me " uppity". 

My social group was baffled that I'd even want to be friends with someone like Patty. 

I do not know what became of my bright lab partner. I do remember her telling me that she'd be the first in her family to attend a four-year college and that she wanted to study nursing. 

I hope she got out and stayed away. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree. 

I got out, and I am forever grateful that my neurodivergent, creative hippie chick self had the opportunity to follow my parents to Northwest Florida. 

Please understand that I love the folks with whom I'd grown up. Most of them are hard-working, good people. Yet to be honest, I never " fit in" there. 

I was a shy and awkward teen. No one would have considered me " boy crazy", and I surely was NOT popular. I honestly did not care about dating and the last thing I thought about when I was in high school was settling down into marriage and motherhood at an early age. 

Although I could have been a better student, I knew my intelligence would be my ticket away from that community that always felt foreign to me-- even though that was where I'd lived for my first twenty-two years of life. 

I lived there, but it always felt like I did not belong-- and could not wait to get the hell out. 

Rural America is great for some people, but not for me. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 
 

Words fail sometimes, but Music always speaks

 

                                            Piano 

As an empathic person, I pick up a lot from other people. Their energy tells me things that words either cannot or will not. 

My priest says that this trait is a gift, but I am not quite sure that I believe her. 

This is why I am grateful to be taking piano lessons at middle-age. Music has opened up a whole new avenue for me to express some " big feelings", that do not involve other people. 

Life is tough. As our associate priest reminded us on Sunday: "God has us". As a person of faith, I know this to be true. After over 40 years of life, I've seen enough of God's goodness to be certain that there IS a " rhyme and reason" for the hard stuff life seems to throw at us regularly. 

Personally, my life has been fairly smooth as of late. Brian and I just returned home from a wonderful short trip to New Orleans. I'm FINALLY getting some real answers and a treatment plan for my chronic nerve pain in my back. Brian is doing well, and so are my parents. 

Yet I have other loved ones who are facing some BIG challenges right now. For reasons of confidentiality-- I cannot talk about these matters {and anyway, the stories are not mine to tell} 

For we empathic " feelers-- I am a classic Myers-Briggs INFJ-- it is hard to carry others' loads. I've always been a creative person, so painting, drawing and now MUSIC  helps me cope with the big feelings. 

Music especially helps me say what words often fail to convey. 

This is why arts education-- especially music-- is so important. 

Do I wish I'd taken music lessons as a child. Of course! But looking back, I probably was not ready {lacking the ability to follow through affected me as a child much more than as an adult. } I am grateful to have a healthy way to cope with life's challenges that also adds much beauty to my life. 

Where words fail, music speaks.

Hans Christian Andersen

Shalom,

Sarahbeth McCarren

My name is Sarahbeth .

 

                                      

In the Christian calendar, we celebrated Christ's transfiguration. In today's Gospel, His friends got a peek into who He is-- not just their rabbi and friend, but also Emanual-- God- { literally}-With-Us

Hi world. My parents named me Sarah Elizabeth McCarren. There is nothing wrong with this name.  But, at this mid-life stage I feel more like a Sarahbeth.  

My name, and what I really prefer to be called, is Sarahbeth. 

Of course, I'll still retain my legal, name, as I don't dislike it. {plus, changing one's legal name is a real pain in the ass} 

I'll still answer to " Sarah" . 

But please, try to call me Sarahbeth 

Names are important. As I've already stated, there is nothing wrong with the name that is on all my identification. It is a good, solid, classic name. 

Yet at this point in my life, I feel like the nickname that my husband bestowed upon me years ago " fits" the person that I'm becoming now. 

Sarah Elizabeth= Sarahbeth. It is not difficult. 

In the last few years, I've grown and changed a lot. Boundaries are in place, and I've developed a better sense of who I am and what I am put on Earth to do. 

I am Sarahbeth. 

Amen

Transfiguration Sunday, 2023

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Sentencing of the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooter

 

                                             My steel-tongue drum, which I had been eyeing every week that I go to the music store for my lesson. I brought it home to add to my music arsenal. Drumming is healing, and the drums {and drum circles} are not the sole copyright of any culture. Full stop. 

It has been a weird couple of days for me.

Not only has my pain level/ leg weakness been high {I thankfully get the nerve block on Monday} , but the fate of the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooter has been determined. A jury of Pennsylvania citizens gave him the death penalty. 

I am grateful and relieved. 

There is also some guilt associated with this gratitude. After all, my normal {and lifelong} stance on capital punishment is one that is firmly against state-sanctioned murder. As a follower of Jesus Christ, I do not usually subscribe to the Old Testament. " An eye for an eye" version of justice. State-sanctioned murder will not bring back the dead. 

I still stand by my belief that capital punishment does nothing to deter violent crimes. I live in Florida, which is a state that LOVES to let the government murder people on behalf of its citizens. Unlike Florida, Pennsylvania does not put " the needle" on juries' tables. 

For this case, Pennsylvania chose to use "The Needle", if the jury agreed that is appropriate. 

A jury concurred and the monster who killed 11 Innocent people for simply being Jews is basically a dead man walking. 

I hope he gets The Needle. 

I'll say it again: I hope he gets The Needle. 

For the past few years, Jewish Americans have seen an uptick in antisemitism.

His crime took place in a Pittsburgh neighborhood that I know and love. Being from the Pittsburgh area, I know Squirrel Hill and its surrounding neighborhoods well. I've safely walked those streets in search of a bagel shop. I have a great-uncle and great-aunt who live there. 

While I am Christian by faith, I am Jewish by birth. 

As a Christian, I know state-sanctioned murder is not okay. After all, our Teacher}, Savior, and Brother was gruesomely murdered by the State in which He lived. 

Yet the Pittsburgh Synagogue massacre rocked Jewish-Americans everywhere-- but especially in the city that I love. 

Am I conflicted? Yes, I am. In my over 4 decades of life, never have I supported capital punishment. Frankly, I still do not support this barbaric practice.  

But I hope that murderous Naz! lies in fear as he is murdered.

My hope is that this will serve as a lesson to anyone who has the hatred enough to murder innocent people just because of who G-d created them to be. 

Forgive me, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, for the anger in my heart. I know that " an eye for an eye" makes everyone everywhere unable to see. Use me as an instrument of Your peace and show me ways that I can be that bridge, connecting people who hate Jews to a new, loving way of viewing their neighbors. In Your Son's Name... Amen. 

Sarah Beth McCarren 

 

Anne

                                            

Anne Elizabeth McNallen McCarren. 

Today is all about honoring a woman who has made a BIG impact on my life. She died during COVID, but she lived over 90 years well. She was a child of God, a nurse, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a great-grandmother and a friend. 

She was tiny in stature but huge in heart. 

She, along with my grandfather, raised six kids, including my dad. 

She worked full-time as a nurse at Butler {Pennsylvania} Hospital. As

an Emergency Room nurse, she was on the frontlines of helping people. She understood that humans are put on earth to serve others, and that we each are called to a vocation. Grandma's vocation was than of a nurse. She retired from the hospital but remained a nurse. 

She loved Pittsburgh sports. I remember being at her house and always seeing some Pittsburgh sports team on the TV. Grandma had a special affinity for baseball and the Pittsburgh Pirates. 

She adored my spouse. 

Grandma knew who she was and her faith in the Triune God was strong. It was with her that I first visited a Christian church {Roman Catholic} When I made the choice to accept Jesus and get baptized, she was so proud of me. 

She had some strong opinions and did not shy away from expressing such opinions.  I remember some wonderful, spirited conversations with her over the phone. We consoled each other in 2016 regarding a certain "Buffoon's" antics on the national and world stage.  #IYKYK .  

By her example, Grandma taught me to be firm in my moral beliefs and to stand up for what I KNOW is right. 

Sometimes when I open my mouth, Grandma Anne's words come out. I learned my strength and fortitude from her. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday Grandma Anne. I give thanks for you today and every day. 

In the Name of the Triune God...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

        

Journalling

                              Butterflies, to me, are symbols of resurrection & transformation. Photo by Sarah Beth. 

I'm in therapy-- again. 

This therapist is REALLY good. I've only been working with her for a couple months, and already I see some BIG progress. 

She has me keeping a pen-and-paper journal. As someone who has been a writer since she could hold a fat pencil in her hand, I've kept journals. As a matter of fact, I credit the journals-- and the skilled therapists-- got me through a turbulent adolescence that was horrible mostly due to the fact that I score high on the neurodivergence scale. 

I did not talk much at all. I wrote. 

However, as I did my best to continue this practice into adulthood, I admit that it was an epic failure.  Well-intentioned, I would buy pretty hardback journals with the intent of writing something every day. 

 I'm someone who can remember in detail, how to get to a place that she'd been to only once before but fails miserably at keeping track of her phone. Yep, I am the classic ' Absent-Minded Professor" Archetype. 

I suck at commitments, so I sucked at journalling. 

However Great Therapist suggested that I do the following: 

1. Keep track of gratitude by writing down at least three things for which I am grateful each evening. 

    Lately it has been " I am grateful for air conditioning." 

 2. Write letters to people to tell them things that are on my heart, but I cannot {yet, if ever} say out loud. 

   This is also very helpful, as I am processing the sudden death of a beloved man who was like the older brother I'd always wanted. 

   I've also written some shitty poetry here that, thank God will never see the light of day. 

3. Use the journal as a Brain Dump. 

    Sometimes stuff just needs to get out of my head and onto the poor unsuspecting paper. 

Am I the most faithful person regarding spending time with my journal every day? Meh. 

Am I better with keeping the journal than I was in my teens and 20's? Yes! 

Today I am grateful for the gift of wordsmithing. 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

   

Therapy

 Hi .. My name is Sarah Beth, and I am currently in therapy. 

I'll say that again. I am in therapy. 

To be honest, due to a lot of life occurrences, I've been in and out of talk therapy for a big portion of my life. I'm NOT ashamed to admit that I need professional help-- and I am of the opinion that no one should feel shame about seeking help. 

Life sucks sometimes, and there are trained people who can objectively give us tools with which to cope with life's suckitude. 

Sadly, I used to feel the stigma attached with getting professional help for coping with life. My parents used to pick me up from school for " a doctor's appointment that was really for my weekly visit with my analyst. 

Hush hush hush. 

Thankfully, in the 2020's most people are enlightened enough to understand that talk therapy really can be part of a comprehensive health-care plan for some people. 

Some people need therapy for a short time-- or for a specific issue. 

Others, like me, need some professional guidance on how to navigate a scary world of scary people who do not understand neurodiverse brains. Face it: people are complex and can be cruel and sometimes it helps to have that unattached ear and voice to help navigate being human in a soul-crushing would of humans. 

I've learned that not all therapists are a good " fit" for each client. My current analyst is amazing: I've only been working with her for a month, and I can see the benefits. However, my last therapist did not have the full set of tools to help me. I am sure he is a good guy who really does want to help people, but his skills and my needs did not align. 

Talk therapy is healthcare. 

Namaste, y'all...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Another Dear Doc" post: a lot of piano content

                               " Doc" at one of her happy places, the organ at St Michael's Basilica, Pensacola FL 

Dear Doc...

I have not written one of these Letters to Heaven in a while. 

That does not mean that I don't think of you-- I do think of you and miss you every day. When you first died, I spent several months writing " Dear Doc" letters in a spiral notebook. This practice helped me feel closer to you as our relationship changed from both of us being on this Earthly plane to one of us residing in Heaven. 

Your " homegoing" {as you so lovingly referred to death} was the first significant loss in my life. For 45 years, I'd not experienced a profound loss, and for that fact I am grateful. Both my parents are still alive and healthy, and until you died, all the deaths I'd known that were close to me were people who were sick and/or elderly. 

I remember the last time we saw each other. Nathaniel {may his soul rest in peace and power, too} messaged me on Facebook and said something to the effect of " Your better go see my Mom now, if you are planning to see her at all." Our brief visit is something that I will cherish for the rest of my natural life. True to form, you did not wish to talk about yourself, you wanted to hear everything about me: since our e-mail correspondence of 22 years had slowed down with you declining health. 

Anyway, here is an update: 

I am doing well in my piano study.  A lot of what I do is more like physical therapy. For instance: my teacher has me doing drills with my hands, strengthening my muscles and { more importantly} starting to heal those damaged neural pathways from my birth injury. You'll be glad to know that I mastered the " 8-Finger Scale" using one hand at a time, and the next task is for me to master the 8-Finger -Scale using both hands at the same time. Oy, vey!

 I won't lie, this is hard stuff. When I was at UWF and in your choir groups, I'd always admired how your fingers would, with amazing agility, play the scales for our warm-ups. Your years of dedication made scales look easy to the {then uninformed} observer.  It took me several weeks, but I did master the 8-finger scale using one hand at a time. My teacher told me to start and end my day with prayers and scales.   She, like you, is a woman of deep faith.

I am also reading music now. Learning music really is like learning a new language, and languages are not my strong suit. Thankfully I am persistent. My family says, more accurately that I am STUBBORN, and they are not wrong in that assessment. 

Interestingly, I find that learning some pieces from a book of " easy" {relatively speaking, of course} classical works for piano helps me with reading music. I've discovered that the styles of music that I prefer to learn to play - Rock and roll, popular, and Broadway can be much harder to read and to play. I've found that, once I master one of these pieces, they are my go-to pieces when I need to play the piano, rather than practicing new material. The Beatles' Let It Be is a piece that I play/pray often, and it comforts me. 

Hey you-- stop laughing! :) Yes, I am the smarty pants student who replaced your CD for the Music History class with one of my bootlegged Aerosmith CD's one April Fools' Day. 

Thanks for the introduction to classical music. While I am still very much a rock and roll gal, learning music theory by playing parts of the classical masterworks has given me an appreciation for the genre. However, I'll always choose The Beatles and the Beach Boys over Beethoven and Bach. 

Brian and I transformed one of our spare bedrooms into a studio for me. Like yours was in your East Hill home, my Music Room is my favorite room in the house. My piano, ukulele, Brian's guitar, and my two overflowing bookshelves are in this room. Additionally, I've added many souvenirs from trips taken and framed photos of loved ones to shelves in this room. It is a beautiful space, and so " Sarah" .  :) 

I know you are proud of me, and I also know that you understand why we'd not been a good piano teacher/ beginning piano student team. Students from your studio are amazing, but I feel that I might have disappointed you with my clumsy hands.

My teacher's first career was as a nurse, and she's done graduate-level work on using piano to help brain-injured people. My progress will be slower due to two things A} I'm a middle-aged adult beginning this incredible journey and B} clumsy hands due to my right and left-brain halves not communicating well. I'm okay with working slower-- and you know darn well that it has taken much personal growth over the years for me to admit that fact aloud. 

I love you, Doc, and I miss you. Yet I know that *** somehow*** our souls will be reunited. Until then, I'll keep making music daily. 

Love,

Sarah 

As Fathers' Day Approaches....

                                                     My Dad and brother.. circa 1979-80? 

Fathers' Day is this weekend. 

I have a wonderful father, and I celebrate him daily.  Dan {" Dad" to my brother and me} does more for his family than anyone I know, and I've learned a lot about how to be a decent human from my dad. 

He's active in his community is engaged with what is happening in his community, is an avid reader and sports fan. 

I like to think that my best qualities are either inherited or learned from Dan. 

He is an amazing human, and I get to call him " Dad". 

I have an Earthly father with whom that Creator of The Universe blessed me. 

However, not everyone has the Dad I have. While I celebrate my own father this weekend, I also realize that this weekend might evoke negative emotions for a lot of people. 

Father's Day does not hold the same cultural " ooomph" that is found with Mothers' Day, but I realize that it can trigger sadness, pain, or anger in some people. 

Some had a dad like Dan, but he has died. 

I see you and honor your sadness. 

Many people's relationship with their father is strained. 

Your sorrow is valid. 

Some never knew their father's name. 

I'm sorry. 

Other people dealt with absent or abusive fathers or father figures. 

I'm sorry. You did not deserve that sort of treatment from a parent. 

This weekend, celebrate the fathers and father figures in your life.  But if you see on social media that someone really dislikes this day, please scroll on. If you must, ask them gently and without judgement, why they seem hostile towards Father's Day. Respect them if they choose to share, and don't pressure them in any way to share their story. 

In other words, don't be a jerk. 

Really, it is that simple. Be kind. 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 
 

My Space to " Be"

                                                      My " Music Room" 

Vacations are wonderful, and I am grateful for the opportunity to get away for a few days. 

For many reasons, I am glad to be home.  One of the biggest things that I missed when we were away is my " music room" and my piano. 

Since taking the piano on a road trip to the mountains is impractical, I packed my ukulele and the instruction book from which I am working. 

One of the biggest reasons why I am glad to be home is that I've missed my daily discipline of working on the piano. I spend half an hour each morning working on assignments that my teacher gives me. If i have time in the evening, I enjoy playing pieces that I've already learned. 

Since taking the piano on a road trip to the mountains is impractical, I packed my ukulele and the instruction book from which I am working. 

Making music daily is physical, emotional, and cognitive therapy for me. Currently my assignment is to build strength in my finger muscles, my teacher has me doing five-finger drills up and down the piano-- using both hands at the same time! {oy, vey} 

Today I went to the music room and played my assigned drills. My fingers felt a wee bit stiff from their time away from the daily strength training, but I still completed the drills that are assigned for me. 

When I was on vacation, I played my ukulele daily {and probably drove my family " around the bend" by playing the same songs again and again. Playing a fretted instrument works the hands differently than piano work and is not the same cognitive workout that working at the piano is for me. 

Yet music making is joy-full for me, and a way which I meditate and pray. Whether it is me and my uke or me and my piano, daily music-making is essential to my total health. 

It is also essential that I have my own space, my " room of her own". Vacations are wonderful, but I am at my best when I am secure in my surroundings. I'm grateful that Brian gave me the physical space to have a " music room" . I struggle with a lot of depressive episodes, as well as some few & fa between} manic episodes, and having that safe sanctuary in my home helps me stay or get centered. 

"Your personal history is a part of what happens with your hands and your head when you play music" ~Dave Grohl 

Amen and amen again. 

I'm safe in my music room: it is just me, the piano and my " shit".  And as I play, the " shit" evaporates. 

Playing music-- even simple piano drills- makes me healthier and whole. 

~Sarah Beth McCarren 

Roan Mountain Photo Essay

                                             The top of Roan Mountain, in Tennessee. 

Brian and I took a HIKE today. 

More accurately, we hiked TWICE today Our first hike was easy-- it was a leisurely half-mile. 

 The longer, two-mile hike that we took was much harder. It was a bone-fide hike through the side of a mountain.  The trail was NOT for beginners, or anyone with physical limitations. Both Brian and I are in good physical condition, and the trail challenged us. 

Here is how we found this amazing, exhausting place to hike:

Last evening, some friends who live here during the summer months, told us about Roan Mountain State Park in Tennessee.  We woke early, ate breakfast {and COFFEE, of course} and drive down Beech Mountain. The park is easy to find, we just veered right at the foot of the mountain rather than or usual left-hand turn towards Banner Elk. Roan Mountain is just over the NC/TN border. 

We TRIED to find the park of the park that is part of the famed Appalachian Trail, but that effort did not yield fruit. However, the view from that mountaintop is AMAZING. 

                                               Me contemplating the beauty of God's Creation. If we ever come into some money, I want a summer place here in these Appalachians. 

First, we hiked an easy half-mile trail that went around the " river" {it is more like a creek}. This was marked " easy" on the trail map, and we had no problem hiking the half-mile trail. 

                                          The " creek" that runs through Roan Mountain. 

 The second, longer hike was two miles long and ran along the edge of the mountain. I am grateful that Brian had the foresight to buy hiking poles, because-- as healthy and fit as we both are-- the poles were needed to maintain balance on this trail. It started up a HUGE, rocky incline. 

                                        The " small rock" at the beginning of the two-mile trail. Brian is amazed at the huge rock formations of these mountains. I'm thankful that North Carolina and Tennessee had the sense to preserve these mountains, rather than ruin them by strip mining for cola and now raping the hills for fossil fuel gas. 

                                          

I led the way through most of the hike, but there were certain parts of the trail where I let my husband, a former park ranger at home in Florida, take the lead. Tennessee State Parks does a pretty good job of maintaining these trails, but there were certain parts where the trail was hard to navigate. 

Thankfully, there was no time constraint, because both Brian and I needed several breaks, especially after climbing the steep, narrow inclines. 

We saw some beautiful scenery. Honestly, there are no words {in English at least} to describe these mountains. They are among the oldest geographical features on Earth, and every time I get totally immersed into the Appalachian forests, I feel a connection with the Holy Other. 

                                         Brian on the difficult trail. He is such a good sport! This was on one of the rare {relatively} safer parts of the trail. 

              

                          Me on the trail.  I look surprised. Everything is so GREEN and lush here. We were deep in the woods when Brian snapped this photo. I'm resting my upper body on my hiking pole. 

                                                  " God's Country"

We are tired and sore. However, our souls are full. I love our Pensacola life, but a part of my DNA is Appalachian. 

Peace, love and music, friends...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

           

 

Low-Tech Time

                                                    Brian in downtown Boone, NC 

We are having a low-tech vacation, and I am LOVING IT! I've been dumping trip photos to Facebook, but so far, I've avoided endless scrolling. 

Recently I noticed how much I let what is said on social media affect my real life. 

Brian and I walked a lot. we dd not let the rainy day on Wednesday deter us from enjoying Grandfather Mountain. 

I'm started the habit of writing daily in a pen-and-paper journal. I do not worry about grammar and syntax, I just write. It feels damn good, too! I'd tried daily journalling, but the habit never stuck. Perhaps, as a writer, I worried too much on writing for other people , that I missed the point of a journal, to write for myself. 

I've done a lot of uke practice. So far, my family hasn't complained. {but the week is not over} I miss my piano, but it will be there when I return. 

I've enjoyed table time at supper with some of my Pennsylvania relatives and the Atlanta McCarrens. My nephew and niece are growing up fast, and they are so much fun. 

I've enjoyed the hot tub on the deck. 

Brian and I have seen countless deer each morning an evening. They somehow know that there is no hunting on this mountain, so they let people come really close. 

I'm totally disconnected from the news cycle, and I feel peace. No politics, and no Facebook drama from people whose opinions differ from mine. 

Tomorrow Brian and I are embarking on an all-day hiking adventure on Roan Mountain, located right on the NC/TN border. It is almost an hour's drive from Beech Mountain, but we've heard that the hike and the views are amazing. I am packing peanut butter and honey sandwiches in my backpack, along with water bottles. 

When I return home, I'll have a different policy when it comes to Facebook. 

Peace, love and music , y'all....

Sarah Beth McCarren 

#Carolina23 Day 1

                                           Me on the deck of our mountain " cabin"  Photo by Brian

We are here! 

After a long, arduous drive from my brother's house in Atlanta, Brian and I arrived safely at the Beech Mountain house. The drive here from Atlanta was easy, until we got to the foot of the mountain itself:  our directions to the cabin were not accurate and had us on the opposite side of the mountain. Thankfully we turned on the GPS, and it got us to the cabin.

It is beautiful here; everything is lush and green. As Brian and I drove north through Georgia and North Carolina yesterday, we saw a sharp difference from the flat Florida/ Alabama coastal topography where we live. On our drive up the mountain, we saw two deer. These magical creatures are plentiful on Beech Mountain. They know they are safe from hunters {Hunting is banned on the mountain} so are incredibly bold. 

My back was sore from all the sitting in the truck, so I treated myself to a soak i the hot tub on the deck before supper. The nerve root damage in my lower back makes long-term travel physically hard for me, but it is worth it to be here now. 

We did not do a whole lot yesterday but unpack and greet the others when they arrived from Pittsburgh and Atlanta.  It is wonderful to catch up with my favorite Pittsburgh relatives and spend quality time with the niece and nephew. 

I love the fact that it is cool enough here to wear jeans. I bought myself a souvenir hoodie sweatshirt with a zipper when we stopped at Blue Ridge Honey Company on our way north. Tey are a working apiary that has some of the best honey I've tasted. 

I am grateful for this time away. 

Peace, love and music.

Sarah Beth McCarren

 

The Story Behind the Blessing Ring

                                  The " Blessing Ring" that is quite a conversation piece. 

Let me talk about my " Blessing Ring".  

One of my DOK {The Order of The Daughters of The King} sisters told our chapter {parish group of DOK women} about her " Blessing Ring" and the meaning behind it. 

There is a small gift shop just east of Pensacola in unincorporated Gulf Breeze, Florida. It is called Magdalene's, and the profits from the sale of items in this shop help women who are coming out of human trafficking situations.  

https://magdalenes.org/  
 

Anyway, the " Blessing Rings" are one of the shop's most-asked-for-items, and the idea is to wear the ring until another woman blesses you with sharing a little about her life's journey. After she shares with you, the idea is to give her your ring to wear. When the time is correct, she will pass the ring to someone else. 

I bought my ring shortly after a friend shared a part of her story with me. I wear the ring daily on the ring finger of my right hand to remind me of the sacred bonds of trust that is the territory of genuine friendships between women. 

To be honest, I've always found making friends with men {boys when I was a child} than women. Women's ability to be catty and our tendencies to not include " odd girls" scare the crap out of me: when guys have a " what you see is what you get " attitude towards friendships. When I was still dating, men scared me. But men-as-friends {even now} seems much more natural for me. 

When I look at my Blessing Ring, I am reminded of the women in my life who are friends. Not mere acquaintances, but friends. It matters not how long I've known someone, but the level of trust I have with her {yes, two of my best gal pals from childhood are my " ride-or-die " gals, but they are the exception rather than the rule. My Blessing Ring reminds me that friendship is a two-way street: it requires something of me as well as from the other woman. 

As aside: I adore my DOK chapter: they've helped me reframe many of my poor experiences with women, and I love each of them dearly for who God made her to be. Th fact that we take vows to live in a very intentional community of women might help us trust each other more. 

It is hard to be human in these days: and it is even harder to be a woman or girl.  It is hard to be a woman who doesn't trust other women, but I hope that my new therapist will help me address this issue. 

Be a blessing, not a burden. I'll try to do the same. 

Trinity Sunday 2023

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Sabbath time In The Mountains

                                          Grandfather Mountain Swinging Bridge 2021

I need a break. 

 I am an introvert with some neurodivergence. People are exhausting, and I need to think about introducing some boundaries in my life. I plan to spend time away using an old-fashioned pen and paper journal to write down thoughts, emotions, and anything else that comes to my mind. 

Thankfully, Brian and I will join some other family members.in Western North Carolina for a full week of the Mountain Cure. Pensacola is home, but I am an Appalachian Mountain gal at heart. There is something sacred about spending time in those ancient mountains that makes my soul sing. 

During this time, I'll take a wonderful mini-sabbath from " screen-time" and ESPECIALLY social media. Since my phone lacks a huge memory card, I will dump the day's photos to Facebook daily, Yet I'll NOT post anything else, nor will I lurk. More importantly, my Direct messenger will be OFF.  I'm not posting to Instagram, only Facebook. 

Additionally, {other than a few select close friends and my priest} I'm not answering text messages or telephone calls on my phone. { I HATE talking on the phone anyway} 

I'm planning to focus on being with Creator God, the family members who will be present there with me, and myself. Everything and everyone else can wait until I return home to Pensacola. 

The details are sketchy, but I need to also use this as a spiritual retreat.  My prayer book is already packed, and I plan to read Life Together by Bonhoeffer. All of my Bibles are too bulky for travel, but our Book of Common Prayer is overwhelmingly derived directly from Scripture. 

I'm packing my ukulele and instruction book. Piano is my first musical love {of course}, but I cannot easily transport my full-sized electronic piano to the mountains. Music is healing, and I've several drills and three songs that I am learning to play on the uke. 

" The mountains are calling, and I must go." ~ John Muir 

Shalom { this word is that can be used ANYONE who understands its meaning, I use it a lot because of its universal appeal}

Sarah Beth McCarren 
 

Learning to Make Music as An Adult

                                            Playing my ukulele. I am firstly a piano student but have taken up the uke { self-teaching} as a secondary instrument. Photo by Brian 

Many women I know post about their children and grandchildren This is fine, but since I do not have either, I cannot join in the mom and grandma brag posts. Before anyone gets in my Kool-Aid and calls me " hateful", I admire parents-- and good parents are blessings. I have nothing against parents. {However, the over-commercialization of Mothers' Day is fodder for another essay} Mothers and fathers are essential for the survival of our species, because we cannot {yet} grow a complete human from one undifferentiated cell. No matter what people might say about me, I am not anti-mother. 

I have my own brag posts: I call them #Pianonotes . I'm sure people are already tired of them, and that is fine: Scroll on.

 Please understand that I came into this world with the aid of forceps', a tool that resembles kitchen tongs. 

My mom's doctor somehow thought that yanking a fragile human neonate from her mother's womb by her skull was a brilliant idea. Really-- I know the 1970's were a different time, but whomever dreamed up the idea of delivering human infants with kitchen tongs should have at least lost their medical license. 

I am one of the more fortunate people who entered this life in these circumstances, but my birth trauma did leave some permanent damage. 

I've been taking piano lessons for several months, and in doing so am realizing a lifelong dream of learning to play the piano.

Piano study has been good for me. My biggest challenge with studying piano is not learning the music. Since my hands are " clumsy" and my right and left body hemispheres do not communicate well {I do not drive nor ride a bicycle for this reason, it is not safe} physical coordination is hard for me. 

Anyway, back to music. Piano study is not only very good for me physically-- for the first time I WANT to do an activity that serves as " physical therapy" of sorts. Actually, the fact that I was born with clumsy hands would have been more of a reason to enroll me in piano lessons as a child.  But again, the brain science that was available to parents, teachers and doctors was in its infancy. 

As an adult music student, I am at a disadvantage, as adult brains are less " plastic" than the brains of young people. I overcome this with being naturally.... persistent {some say " stubborn," and they are not wrong} I need to work harder than a beginning piano student whose brain is still forming-- and deal with a neurodiverse brain. 

I think that my dedication and drive come from the fact that I am doing something-- making music-- that no one thought I could do. 

Will I be a virtuoso? No. I know this fact, my husband knows, and my teacher knows.  Music study for the sake of making music should be the norm: not every person is made to be a concert musician-- no matter how early they start their musical journey. 

Will music improve some neural pathways that have been damaged? Absolutely. 

Another aspect of music study that I did not count on is my increased self-confidence. Learning a new thing-- especially as an adult with some neurological challenges-- is empowering. One of the reasons that I chose to self-teach the ukulele is the confidence I have with learning to play the piano.  Fretted instruments are entirely different than the piano, but I can apply the same basic music theory to improve those neural pathways by using my hands and fingers in a different music-making way. I bought a beginning ukulele instruction book that has lessons with several popular tunes. 

I'm teaching myself, so the uke progress is slower. This is fine with me: I'm doing this for the sheer joy of making music. 

Piano is my first musical love, but I am also enjoying teaching myself the ukulele. Another aspect of learning the uke that I like is its portability. I cannot easily take my piano with me, but my concert-sized uke is extremely portable. Right now, I am perfecting some songs using the C, G7 and F chords to play for my family when we are in the North Carolina mountains for our hiking trip. 

I'm grateful for the ability to learn music at midlife. 

Yes, I will talk about it a lot. 

Shalom...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Pentecost 2023