I just spent a day and a half with my handbell board people. They are a wonderful bunch of dedicated, talented (OMG the talent!!), very special individuals.
I am a long time ringer and I teach middle school kids, but these people are phenomenal. It's intimidating to be in a room with them. One publishes music - I'm not talking a song here and a song there. I'm talking I own a cabinet full of her music. Another has a degree in handbells and music and rang/rings with some seriously good groups. Another directs a community choir and is a church musician. The list goes on... Wait! I am totally intimidated after reading that list!! I don't have a degree in music. I don't compose. I don't publish. I don't ring in a community choir where they ring 'serious' music. I ring in a small church choir with people who are volunteers. I teach beginners. I stay home with my kids. I'm "just" a mom. But, I'm smart. That's my saving grace, as I see it.
This weekend was my second meeting with this group. At the first meeting, I felt totally out of the loop. I am relatively new to the area. I don't know the "names". I don't know the "histories". I'm learning. The learning curve is steep - as in straight up. At the last meeting it took a while for me to feel comfortable enough or strongly enough about something to fully express my opinion. I think it went something like "They can pay their own stinking internet bill!! It's not our job to pay it!" There was silence. They all looked totally shocked - not a what I said, but that I said anything. This time... they weren't shocked. They were ready. "Tell us how you really feel, LB". I giggled. They laughed.
They get me. They like me. It's cool.
I'm slowly finding my place.
On the way out last night I was walking with another newer member. (We were elected at the same time.) He engraves and composes music, rings a with level 5 group, and has more talent in his pinky finger than I have in my whole body. He told me he was so intimidated the first meeting. I thought, "Are you kidding me? You are one of THEM." It was nice to hear, though. I told him that I was still a little intimidated, but at least I could contribute this time. The relief on his face was all I needed to see.
I'm not the only one.
Now, for a funny -
LLB's feet slid out from under her on her way down the stairs on Friday morning before school. She landed on her tailbone. (Yes, it hurt. Yes, she's fine.) After I settled her down, I asked her if she wanted some ibuprofen.
"Mom, I don't have a headache, my bum hurts."