There for Me: My Dad

 

My Dad, or Papa, as the Peterman kids call him, is definitely one of a kind. He's the  only dad I know who challenges his kids to jump in the pool WITH HIM when it's 46 degrees outside. As a matter of fact, I don't know too many others who have had intense muscle spasms in the middle of the night from juggling four hours the day before. And I'm guessing there aren't too many dads out there who put up a volleyball net the "right way" using a forklift and 1000 + lb concrete blocks to hold it down. He's definitely... unique.

 

 

 

 

Okay, unique might be an understatement.  (Please, no comment on our fashion sense (or lack thereof) 

 

 

He's an incredible story-reader/teller. (although he loves to add dramatic effect by telling giving away small story details very s-l-o-w-l-y.) I have lots of memories of snuggling in bed with him and him reading the same books over and over again. (Robert the Rose Horse is my favorite one that he reads. There's a horse in it that sneezes every other page, and my Dad has the best, bed-shaking horse-sneeze ever! It's impressive.

 

 

 

He has always managed (and sometimes combined) work/family time.

He always takes the time to do the "important" stuff (the above qualifies as highly important) with us kids. He works his tail off most of the time, yet still manages to be there for us.

He can also build-- I mean, co-build, a "structurally sound" gingerbread house. For him, it's not "just" taste that matters. :)  (There are most definitely right and wrong ways to build gingerbread houses.)

My Dad is one of the quirkiest, most interesting people that I know. But he's more than just his quirks and his habits.
My Dad has always been supportive. I still remember one time when he had just gotten home from a business trip, and had got to bed at about 5:00 a.m. In less than an hour, the alarm clock rang, and off he went to the JH state volleyball tournament. In between games, he slept sprawled out in the car. But he was there, supporting my every under-hand serve and lobbed "spike."

I still remember morning hikes we took with him every Saturday  morning at Warner park. But they were more than hikes! They were hours of hide-and-go seek, piles of leaves to be made and demolished, and teaching moments about why the tree bark was shredded from deer antlers. I still remember splitting Panera Bread Cinnamon Rolls run through the bagel slicer (so we could split them the "right" way-- his idea, of course.)  and sampling their "bear claw" on a whim. Once again, he was there.

I remember his many bloody toes from getting a little bit too competitive into tag in our small kitchen/living room. But he was there. I remember his gross "candy turkey" made with leftover turkey from Thanksgiving and lots of brown sugar and butter. (Mom was sick, and he thought us kids would like it since it had plenty of sugar in it. He was wrong. ) But he was still there.

Come to think of it, he still is there! He supports me (thought not vocally) at my games, watches all my piano recitals, compliments me on my cooking, and holds long debates with me. We "debate" over volleyball rotations, discuss the woes of physics, and argue about why I should/shouldn't be an engineer. (He wants me to be, but I don't think so!)

He isn't perfect... he's missed some games and piano recitals for work. He has occasional bad moods and stressful moments. But I love him to pieces, and in my book, he's definitely got a winning record.

 

Piano Post Part 2: Why Piano is Challenging

Okay, so now you all know why I love piano! And I truly do enjoy playing... some of the time. Oftentimes, though, I am challenged as well. Sometimes I'm not only challenged, but angered, because I can't get something quite right, or I am limited either physically or emotionally. I hate having limitations, and I HATE it when try really hard at something and I still can't do it. (In other words, sometimes it bugs me that I'm human. :) )

 One of my physical limitations with piano is my hands. They are small. REALLY small. I can barely reach an octave, which makes it really difficult to hit them accurately at high speeds. Oftentimes, I end up "smearing" my octaves because I have to stretch my hands close to the keys to be able to reach so that I accidently hit notes in between. Many times I have been frustrated with myself, even God, because my hands limit me from advancing and playing the music I would like to. But this is an "entitlement" mentality, isn't it? So often I am so busy shaking my finger at God for what He didn't give me, (bigger hands, smaller size, athleticism) that I forget to say "thanks" for what He did! And what makes me think I "deserve" these gifts, anyways? I mean, Jesus has spared me from hell, which is what I really deserve, and here I am complaining because he gave me small hands. Seems a bit ridiculous, yet so often I fall into that trap of focusing on what I don't have.

So, I'll try not to complain about the size of my hands, but I can't say it doesn't affect my piano playing. In about a week I am going to perform a piece for a competition that has a ton of octaves. Even though I have practiced fairly diligently since lessons started, the piece is not quite ready, because no matter how much I practice, I can't hit all the notes. I'm not expecting to do well, not because I'm worried about my memorization, but because I physically cannot hit all the notes.

Another challenge I've had with my hands is that they are weak, so I over-compensate by straining my wrists. My hand position is constantly in need of correction because I am too tense, which causes wrist pain. I have so much to learn when it comes to this.

One last challenge that I am hoping to overcome is the fact that I am a horrible performer. I play best when I am home alone and nobody is watching or listening. An adult mentor who is very dear to me has talked to me a lot about serving an Audience of One, (God) but I still get nervous when I am playing in front of other people, although it is getting better. This has caused me to freeze up in more than one performance, and skip whole sections of songs.

Some of these challenges are annoying, but I think that without them, piano would be boring! It is the challenges and the bumps that need to be overcome that make the victory all the more rewarding!

Question: What instruments, if any, do you play, and what are your greatest challenges and victories associated with them?

Piano Post Part 1: Why Piano is Awesome!

Most of you  (okay, probably all of you) know that I play volleyball. Volleyball is one of those things that is easy to talk about, I think, because  you don't have to know much about it to talk about it! Even when strangers are unfamiliar with sports in general, it is easy to ask what team someone is on and what their season has been like, without necessarily knowing how volleyball is played. Piano, on the other hand, is a topic that comes up less often in conversations. I mean, what's a person supposed to ask? "Do you like piano?" And "Are you good?" are two questions I get asked a lot. (The latter is a trick question... if you say you stink, everyone assumes you're being overly humble and lecture you about being hard on yourself. If you say you're good, people think you're a prideful pig. There is no winning with this question!) Anyways, you can give a comprehensive answer those questions in about two syllables, and then it's your turn to scramble to find something to make small talk about! ( I usually resort to talking about volleyball... imagine that!)

So, I will tell you what I think about piano, without you having to figure out the right kind of questions to ask. Sound like a plan?

I have been playing piano for about ten years (some years more diligently than others!) and overall, I really do enjoy it. My dad was just saying the other day that he doesn't understand WHY I enjoy it. But for one thing, it's an energy outlet. When was about six or seven, Mom always used to tell us that, if we get angry, don't hit a person, go to your room and pound a pillow. But...pillows are so... unresponsive! They don't groan or scream or express any emotion whatsoever Which is why, for a while at least, I made my little brother my "pillow." But several lectures (and well-deserved spankings) later, I found a new "replacement pillow" that allowed me to get my angry energy out: the piano. No matter how hard I pound on the keys, they remain intact and I remain in control. :) By the time I've played 'He's a Pirate' the fourth or fifth time, I stand up from the piano much more relaxed. (albeit, my family has usually exited the area at this point.) Of course, when I was five or six, I punched out songs like "Old Mac Donald" or "Twinkle, Twinkle, but the calming effect was still about the same. :) (although my family was probably worse  off  then than they are now. There's something about an aggressive, repeatedly played Twinkle, Twinkle that will darken the mood (and damage the ear drums.)

Another reason I like piano is because it's something I can do. For me, with a lot of things, I work really hard and don't see the results I want. This drives me crazy because I (wrongly) feel entitled to doing well if I've put the work in. Piano is one thing that, if I work HARD (I'm not a natural) I can learn the music. I can make my fingers do what I want them to. I'm the farthest thing from being naturally gifted in this area, but the results, though slow, are visible! Because of this, piano has been one of the most rewarding hobbies I've taken up.
That's all for now! Next time I'll talk about the challenges that I have with piano. (And there are plenty!)

The Poems Keep A Comin'!

I realized I have to post twice this week and am settling on less-than-ideal posts, since (gasp) I can't think of anything more interesting to say! Here's another poem!

Blessing or Busyness 
I like to keep busy
there's no time to think.
No time to question,
to wonder or seek.

I like to keep busy, 
it helps me to hide
from the questions that whirl
'round and round in my mind.

I like to keep busy 
when life seems too bleak
It's nice to forget 
that I'm really quite weak.

It's nice to keep busy,
there's no time to feel
It helps me escape 
from what I know is real.

I like to keep busy, 
it numbs the sting
that silence and time for
thought seem to bring. 

I like to keep busy,
to brush over the fear
But when I keep busy
I forget God is near.

It's when I'm not busy
and I have time to think
that the problems I have
in this life seem to shrink.

Because when I sit down
To spend time with my Savior
The purpose I'd lost in this 
life is restored.

 It's when I am busy 
spending time with this Friend
that the fear of the worst in this
life seems to end.

Could it be that the dullness
of escaping a feeling
is surpassed by the JOY
of true inner healing? 



'

The Fun Has Just Begun! (A Day in the LIfe of the DeWolf Family)

A one week sleepover? Yes, please! The DeWolfs are like our second family, and often, when our parents are gone, we pack up our school and volleyball gear and head there for however long our parents are gone for! Of course, we try to act all upset and sad that we won't see our parents for a week,    but we never feel too bad... the DeWolfs are so awesome we often forget about the fact that our parents are gone! One night before my parents were scheduled to leave, I went out to dinner with my volleyball team, and they asked where my parents were going... and I had no clue! I guessed Washington D.C. or Chicago, when in actuality, they were heading south to Texas. Whoops.

Anyways, I have a feeling this week will be lots of fun, but very tiring. (in a fun way!) Us girls have decided to mix up the sleeping arrangements so that both Natalie and I can have "mini sleepovers" with both Savanna and Avery during the week. Last night I "slept" in Avery's room. Hah.  Two hours after we were planning on going to sleep, we finally shut up. :) And then we woke up early to make Mr. DeWolf a birthday breakfast. That was this morning... Yesterday was fun, too! I got to first, go to my practice, then come back and do school, and THEN go to the JV/JH practice!!! SO fun! I love those girls to pieces, and it was fun to condition with them and just chit-chat. (in between drills, of course.)  I'm afraid I sweated just as much as they did! And I was just shagging  balls! Then, I got to come home and BAKE!!! Can it get any better than that? It was just cornbread, but still, it was fun for me!  And then, to top it off, I went running that evening! (Baaaad idea. I did it 15 minutes after super and died at about the 2 1/2 mile mark.  But it felt good once I made it back!) Add to that family four-square, long, random conversations with Avery, and a good (although short) night's rest, and all in all, it was a good day. I am pumped to get to spend time with my favorite people, even if it does mean getting a few less hours of shut-eye. :)

Comparison and Team Work





Team sports can be either a great experience, or a horrible one, depending on, well, your team! If you have a great team who supports each other and balances out each other's weaknesses, the experience is incredible! On the other hand, if everyone if about ready to wring each other's necks, it makes for some tense moments and a less than fun experience! Fortunately for me, I have an incredible team this year!  I love the fact that we can joke around AND play competitively. Not all of our games are pretty, but I think my favorite part of this team is that, working together, we can balance out each other's strengths and weaknesses. I love these ladies!

 







One of the things being part of a team has taught me these last couple years is that different  doesn't equal less-important or more important. Just because someone has different strengths than me doesn't make them better or worse than me!We need all the parts of the team for it to work well... we wouldn't score very many points if it weren't for our awesomely tall hitters! But they wouldn't be able to score any points if it weren't for  our setter, Mary Frances, who can chase down the ball and set it over to them to spike! But she wouldn't have balls to set in the first place if there weren't people in the backrow to get them up! 

 

It seems so obvious in a team setting that each player is important, but in other situations in life, I know for me, at least, it's easy to compare myself to others. When my peers are better athletes/scholars than I am, I feel like trash. But if I can find someone who is worse than me at these things, suddenly I am comforted. Because their strengths aren't my strengths, I somehow feel gratified. Yet, it is BECAUSE we have different strengths and weaknesses that we balance each other out so well! God gave us all gifts to be used for His glory, and many of us have different gifts. Sometimes when I look at my gifts compared to others, I am so busy complaining that I don't have as many or the same kind of gifts as someone else, that I never USE the ones God has given to me! Can you imagine what would happen if all the spikers on our team started crying mid-game because they didn't have Mary Frances's beautiful sets? Or if Anna Keeley and I (backrow specialists) decided to sit the bench because we felt useless since we couldn't spike? The whole game would be in shambles, even though together we could have a lot of fun. We would be making ourselves miserable.

 

 I am a habitual comparer, and by no means am I saying that I have this "no-comparing thing" down. But this is something I have been thinking about, mainly because comparing never makes me content.I guess my point is, I think I would be a whole lot happier if I chose to be content with my gifts, and happy for other people when I see theirs. I would waste a whole lot less time, and have fun doing what God made me to do in the first place.





Another poem...

 This is a topic that I've tried writing about several times, with all attempts ending up in the trashcan. :) Regardless of whether this is trashcan worthy or not, it is going on my blog, because I can't think of much else to write!

Fear
It might hold me back,
But it makes me feel safe.
Though freedom, I lack,
From hurt, I escape

From panic to nerves,
it has many names.
But the master they serve
is always the same.

I think to myself,
what harm can it do?
My insecurities it quells,
my nerves it subdues!

It limits what I say,
and controls how I act.
Yet without any complaint,
I choose to be trapped.

"What will they think?"
The voice whispers inside.
My desires, they shrink
But the risks are denied

This 'friend' seems quite harmless,
my best interest in mind.
But the more of me I repress,
the less of me left to hide.

Though it's bonds do grow old,
 And it's chains cut in deep,
To its arms I tightly hold
Its company I keep.

Rather than calling on Jesus for strength,
To slash these shackles apart.
I cling to my captor with freedom at arm's length
And crave fear's secure grip on my heart.

But then, ever so softly, I hear Jesus' voice
So different from that of my captor
His gentle whisper offers rest from the noise
that bellows from the lips of this master.

I look in the eyes of my Savior,
His arms open wide, yearning for my embrace.
And I eye the key in the corner,
only a few inches away.

Which shall I choose?  I've had the key all along
But something kept holding me tight
Could it be that my captor has made me afraid
to accept the freedom that's already mine?

To be safe, or to be free.
The dilemma is mine.
But something in me
won't let me decline.

With one turn of the key
my chains drop to the floor.
And I jump up, free!
My bonds are no more.

As I sit in the lap of my doting Savior,
I realize something I'd formerly missed.
Fear didn't make me more secure,
All this time, it  just kept me from this.

By giving up fear, security came from a new source--
My Jesus provides me both safety and freedom.
But instead of fear making my decisions by force,
Jesus controls who I am and become.