Two years ago I wanted to write a book called, “Life Begins at 65”, because mine certainly did in many respects.

I’m not sure where it started, really. Maybe it was six or seven years ago when I realized my life was getting smaller and smaller, and I wanted to get to know some more of the people I admired at church. We had been attending the same Bible study for several years, and the attendance had dwindled so that most weeks there were only four of us there. I knew of another group meeting on Monday nights in another home, which was attended by a number of folk I wanted to know better. It was hard bestirring myself to get dressed in decent clothes, don my winter coat, go to town, and then climb a steep set of stairs to the apartment. I knew it was even harder for Ian, who would have preferred to stay home and relax after a long day at work. But we did it, and we were always glad we did.  

Four years ago, I realized I had disappeared into retreat mode somewhere along the way, and not only had I gained a lot of weight, but I was living an unhealthy introverted life, beyond what is normal and to be expected in an introvert such as I am. It hit me one day that as a friend used to say, “The way you do one thing is the way you do everything in life.” In so many ways I was taking in and not giving out, and getting fat and unhealthy from hoarding it all to myself. 

I was not able to write my feelings out on paper or at the keyboard since losing a close friendship in May 2009, and later that year, losing my eldest son, James. I wasn’t playing the piano any more, and didn’t do much singing. This was not helping me at all. For so long I’d felt beaten down, with nothing to give. Now I felt overstuffed, clogged up, and feeling less all the time like even trying to give out.

I am not one to make a decision overnight, or make a turn-around commitment. This was beyond my doing, the dawning realization of what I was doing. It was God, calling me back to fellowship with Him. I knew I had to overcome my reticence due to our experience in our former church. I surrendered that to the Lord, along with my resistance against giving out – and told Him, “Okay. I’m not going to offer, but if someone comes to me and asks me to take part in the worship team, I’ll say yes.” Well, I don’t think it was more than a week or two later when someone asked me if I would join her up there the following Sunday!

That was in the fall of 2016. Since I’d gone up there once, other worship leaders began asking me as well. I became a fairly regular part of the worship team.  Six months later, the first Sunday in March, 2017, Ian and I sang our first duet together… “Ivory Palaces.” A few weeks later, we were asked to sing a second duet.  

That summer, our intern pastor set up a small recording studio in the church office. He did a lot of recording, both of Ian and me, and a larger group he dubbed the Westlock Tabernacle Choir. Ian and I sang a few more duets during church services too.

In May, 2018, I turned 65, and things seemed to accelerate after that. A friend came out for coffee one day, and we talked about my piano, which was hopelessly out of tune because no one had played it in at least ten years. She suggested I ask permission to bring home the piano keyboard that was at the church. “It’s just sitting in the Fellowship Hall, useless – no one is using it.” My immediate reaction was a resounding “No! I don’t want to learn to play an electric keyboard – I want to get my piano tuned.”

The trouble was, Ian didn’t want to get it tuned, because it would cost too much.

But the seed was planted. Two days later, on Fri. May 16, I sat down at the piano at church while Ian was taking the car over to Fountain Tire, and the pastor was otherwise occupied in the office. I felt awkward, rusty and stiff, and couldn’t remember anything I used to play. Still, I was disappointed when Ian got back to the church after only fifteen minutes or so, and I had to leave the piano. AND I was unprepared for the incredible itch in these poor fingers of mine, wanting to sit back down on the piano bench and play! I thought that particular passion was dead, and was amazed at the possibility it wasn’t!

On Sun. May 18, I asked the pastor if I could take the keyboard home with me, and he agreed readily.

In no time I was back to playing for hours a day. When my friend suggested I ask for it, it was only because she knew how much I had enjoyed playing in the past. “It’s not that you’ll ever play in church, but just for your own enjoyment.” But I knew it would never be only for my own benefit… that I needed to be willing for God to ask me to play for others at some point.

Still, neither Ian nor I felt I was ready to play in public even two months later. But God had other plans. The last Sunday in July, 2018, I was asked to play the piano in church – and then at Pembina and Smithfield – and several days later, at Long Term Care! Talk about jumping in the deep end. Before I got the keyboard, I had not played in public in over 25 years – and hadn’t touched a piano at all in at least 10 years.

Getting the piano was a turning point, though I had no idea of that at the time. There were no more duets from Ian and me after that, and since I cannot sing and play at the same time, now I was part of the worship team only as pianist, not as a singer. Why? Because our former church pianist had moved on, and we had no one else who could play.

I became part of the team whenever our church took the church services at the lodges, and also to sing to shut-ins.  

A major turning point came on March 3, 2019, when God called my husband Ian Home. Moving to an apartment in town… getting my driver’s license… a close church friend as my next-door neighbour… being more increasingly involved in church activities… These all came into play after I turned 66.

And then came 2020. Naturally there were jokes about seeing 20/20 in 2020. There was optimism at the beginning of the year that this would be a great year, better than last… in my family in particular, because who wouldn’t be glad to see the end of a year when we lost our beloved husband and father? But we soon found out this would not be a “better” year for anyone the world over, thanks to the invasion of COVID-19. The world suddenly became topsy-turvy, and the rules changed from week to week – sometimes day to day. One Sunday we attended church as usual. The next day everything closed down, and we were restricted to making up an online service, and watching it at home the following Sunday.

Those were a lot of major changes in just two years. And it appears there may be even more big changes ahead. But if there is one lesson I’ve learned through all of this, it is that God never changes, He is in control, and He never forsakes His own. He is my strength, my comfort, and my song, regardless of what is happening around me.