After last week’s pre-Kevin’s-birth story, I thought I’d tell a pre-Jeremy’s-birth story.
In the summer of 1977, Word Publishing (a local company that produced Christian books and music) put out a request to church choir directors.
The cover of Word’s new publication in 1977
The staff at Word offered a music conference each year in September for music ministers around the country. There would be training sessions and fellowship times, and attendees could hear the new music being published (and could order it for their churches back home). That year, they were publishing a collection of songs by a rather new composer, a blind man, Ken Medema. They needed people to come and learn this music to be presented at the Friday night closing session. Rehearsals were scheduled during the summer, and the performance would be on September 9. David and I thought it sounded interesting, and we participated. We each received copies of the music. I practiced at home on our piano, in addition to the rehearsal times.
The Friday night performance, at a church by the Baylor campus, went well. On Saturday afternoon, David and I went to a Baylor football game. Sunday, we all went to church, morning and evening. Around midnight or so, we took Kevin over to my parents’ house and went to the hospital. Jeremy arrived at about 6:30 a.m. It was a busy weekend.
Okay. He slept sometimes.
Jeremy, who is a lovely, calm adult, was a verrrrrry crabby tiny baby. He was difficult to soothe, slept poorly, and cried. A lot. One afternoon, I fed him and changed him and started the long and winding routine of trying to help him go to sleep. He wailed. I walked him. He sobbed. I rocked him. He wept. I jiggled him. He kept on crying. I changed him again. I tried feeding him again. I sang every single little baby song I knew (and made up a few new ones), but nothing worked. He was miserable, and I was growing more tense and frustrated and a little bit weepy, myself. Finally I plopped down on the sofa, hoisted him up on my shoulder, and began to sing–not so much for him as for me–a song I had learned for the music presentation: “‘Come, let us reason, together,’ that what God says. ‘Come, let us reason, together,’ says the Lord.”
Jeremy took a breath, sighed, and dropped his head on my shoulder and went to sleep. And I thought, “Well, of course. He doesn’t know the baby songs. I haven’t been singing those songs for the past three months. I’ve been singing Come Let Us Reason.”
Fast forward to last week. The day after Christmas, we got a phone call letting us know about the passing of a man who was the Minister of Music at our church many years ago. In his long music career, he’d been director of high school choirs, served on church staffs, and finally came back to Waco to work as an Associate Vice President at Baylor for a number of years. As I read his obituary a couple of days later, I was glad to see that a friend from Tennessee was going to do the service. And then I was joyfully amazed to see that one of the memorial service’s musicians was going to be Ken Medema!
The service was wonderful, as all services that celebrate a life well-lived should be. Afterward, I was able to visit with old friends, chat with my friend from Tennessee, and visit with current church members, too. At one point, David and I were talking with a member of Baylor’s music faculty, who played his trumpet during the memorial service (sometimes in duet with Ken Medema at the piano). As we chatted, I noticed Ken leaving. “Oh,” I said. “There goes Ken Medema. I wonder if I could meet him.” “Of course you can,” said our friend. So I chased down the musician and introduced myself. I got to shake his hand and everything!
Here I am, telling Ken Medema the story of how Jeremy responded to his wonderful music, even as a tiny baby! (Thanks Wiff Rudd for encouraging me to go meet this amazing musician, and for taking our picture!)
“Come now, and let us reason together,”
Says the Lord,
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
They shall be as white as snow;
Though they are red like crimson,
They shall be as wool.
Isaiah 1:18
It’s okay, Kevin. I didn’t remember last week’s story either. I DO remember this one.
And it’s hard to forget, isn’t it.
Loved this story. Hated to miss the funeral.
Sorry you missed it, too. There were frequent times when I forgot it was a funeral. It sometimes seemed a little more like a revival service.
Well, I remember hearing about this story, but I thought it was about me and not Jeremy 🙂
It couldn’t have been about you. You slept.
A delightful memory and story…Who knew the delight when Jeremy dropped off to sleep after hours of crying that you would relive the joy in 2015 by sharing it with all of us blessed to read your blog? A blessed New Year to all. Suzy
Thanks. It’s often that way, isn’t it? We don’t always know what the blessings are going to be.
What a blessing to hear this story. I remember what a blessing Ken Medema’s songs were as a student at Baylor. His song Moses gave me chill bumps the first time I heard it. Great pre- Jeremy story!
Randal O’Brien did the service. As I was saying good-bye to Ken Medema, Randal came up and told Ken that he had just played “Moses” for his daughter, Shannon, who has a new son, whom they named “Moses.”
I am intrigued about the funeral..whose, friend from Tennessee, who lead it, etc?
Randy Lofgren. http://www.wacotrib.com/obituaries/lofgren-randy/article_ab7ab487-9ec0-5252-b02d-c4ef0cbba248.html
I’m trying to think back to when you came to Calvary, and I can’t recall exactly when it was. Randy was Minister of Music for several years, back to when David was in Baylor. They left in the summer of 1974, after he got his PhD. You can read in the obit the other places he went, but he ended up back at Baylor in administration, for the past, oh, 26 years, I think. Randall O’Brien did the service. He was at Calvary for several years, after he came to Baylor to teach in the religion dept. He did lots of things there, and finally ended up in administration, ultimately as Provost. A few years ago he went to be president of Carson-Newman, in Jefferson City, Tennessee, which is where David’s parents met each other. And, coincidentally, where Randy went for his first job after he got his doctorate. He and Randall weren’t *there* at the same time; they knew each other at Baylor.
I’ve been thinking about you; I’m getting caught up on photograph albums, and have put in your family’s Christmas cards (for the past three years).
I love this story! I remember you told me about this. I am so glad you got to meet Ken Medema. How cool!!
It *was* cool. And he was so gracious. He listened and chatted, and I know he must have been weary, after having played the piano and singing so much during the service, and then talking for another 30 minutes or so to lots of other people.