I taught my last lesson in Relief Society yesterday. It has been such a privilege to teach. I love it. Mostly because it forces me to really study and think about important gospel principles. I have been called as the new ward choir director. It was suggested we sing "Love at Home" for Father's Day. Right away I thought of the arrangement I had written in memory of my father and the possibility of using it for the choir. Through the years, this song has come to symbolize my relationship with my father.
Some of my strongest memories associated with "Love at Home" were associated with my teenager years. Most of the time when I went into the living room to play the piano and sing I was reminded by my mom, dad, and sister to shut up-stop the racket-stop singing so loud etc. But every once in a while my father came stumbling in the room (clearly drunk), plop himself in the corner chair, and command (in loud, slow, slurred speech), "Erin-Play my favorite song!" ( This was my cue to pull out the hymnbook and play, "Love at Home." I did it because I wanted to please him. Over and over again through the years. At that moment, the hymn reminded me how far my family was from the ideal Latter-Day Saint family. It was part of growing up as the daughter of an alcoholic father. As part of this mix, I was constantly seeking the approval of my father. Nothing was ever good enough. No matter how accomplished in the eyes of the world, I was still just a screw up. I couldn't seem to do anything right by my father. I was the daughter without a brain-with no common sense that continued to do stupid things. Though I knew he loved me, I did not feel he was pleased with who I was becoming. All this non-acceptance, fueled my ambition as I constantly tried to prove myself and succeed in life. However, it also influenced my own self-acceptance and lack of it. I became a perfectionist.
Through the years, I learned to drowned out my father's voice in my head. Not with alcohol, but with self acceptance that comes with an understanding of the atonement of Jesus Christ. My first husband also helped me understand my true worth and become a true defender of my own self-esteem. I also switched from being a type "A" person to a type "B" person-no longer a perfectionist. Now I have self-acceptance running out of my ears. I'm the "whatever" girl now- "that's good enough-at least I tried" girl. That is a subject for another day but back to my Dad and the song.
One weekend back in 2001, I flew to California to help set up hospice for my dad who was suffering from lung cancer and related complications. We all prayed that he would be released from this life. Ideally, I wanted to be with him when he passed but I knew he could hang on for weeks or months. It was Mother's Day and the hymn selected was "Love at Home". Of course I thought of my dad while I sang (and cried), At that moment, I had a strong feeling that my father was going to die that day and he did. I was so glad I could be with him during his final moments. I was the baby of the family known as "Pooh Bear" to my father. I knew I held a special place in his heart. How I loved my dad!
I'm sure we sang "Love at Home" at his funeral. Later I would write an arrangement to the song in his honor. I tried to make the song something he would be pleased with. I tried my very best to make it interesting and complex. At the time, I was quite pleased with how the arrangement turned out. So when the music director suggested, "Love at Home" I thought I would pull out the song and see if I could adapt it for a choir. Fortunately, through the last 13 years, I have grown as a musician and I listened to the song with fresh ears. Right away I noticed how the song was way too dramatic. It was way too anxious. The whole piece was just "trying too hard." The motifs were garbled and confused. It couldn't use it. However, as I thought about the song while sitting on my piano bench I realized that it this sheet music represented the little girl I was who was trying so hard to please her father. I was too dramatic. I was too anxious to "be perfect." I was confused as to my own self-worth and my own self-esteem. At that moment, I started to cry as I heard a voice in my head tell me how my father really felt back then and now. He was pleased with me back then and he is pleased with me now. He is proud of his little baby girl! How he loved me! How proud he was of ME! I felt it. I feel it now. And even if my revelation isn't quite accurate, this feeling still helps me feel the love of my sweet struggling father-who never quite understood how loved he was by his own Father in Heaven or felt the blessings stemming from the atonement. I think he does now. It was a precious moment. This realization mixed with my baby girl tears, was a precious moment-all because of a simple hymn, "Love at Home."
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