Keys to the heart

Right now there is beautiful music floating through my house. It's not a cd, and the radio isn't on. It's piano music flowing from the long slender fingers of my daughter. And I love it!

When she was four, she started saying things like, "I wish I knew how to play the piano." Of course, I ignored her for a while...four year olds often change their whims without any notice. But when she didn't stop talking about it, I looked into lessons. I found a lady in town who gave lessons in her basement full of pianos. I said, "She's only four, is that ok?" The teacher said, "Well, she'll have to know her letters." Indignant, I replied, "Of course she knows her letters..and can count to 100.." I could go on, but it would be embarrassing. Anyway, Mrs. Presson took her on...and it began.

For a long time, Hillary practiced on the one-octave electric keyboard we could afford. In those days, there wasn't room in our tiny house for winter and summer clothes at the same time...let alone a piano. But a few years and a couple of moves later, we realized a real piano was necessary. Hillary was playing real songs...beautiful and complicated songs...songs that were too much for a keyboard. So my mother-in-law found an old but free upright piano...and my mom took it apart (literally - laid the keys out on the floor) and vacuumed out the baby powder someone had spilled into it. Then my dad stripped the ugly antique green paint from the wood and stained it. And when their work of love was finished we had a beautiful instrument that we cherish to this day. While our parents' love made the outside shine...Hillary's fingers made it's heart sing.

When we moved here, her lessons stopped. She was so sad to say goodbye to her teacher, who had always encouraged her and pushed her and made opportunities for her to play for others. I was afraid she would stop playing and be one of those grown-ups who say, "I took lessons for years, but I can't play anything now." I prayed God would use her talent and not let it be lost.

After lots of trying Sundays in our new town, we finally found a church we liked with a thriving youth group and a youth pastor who used God's eye to find talents in his young people. He asked Hillary to help with the worship team. She was hesitant at first. But she tried. Mrs. Presson had taught her how to read music, and now God was teaching her to expand into playing by ear and following a vocalist. The wish that had started at four years old was now coming full circle at fourteen.

Hillary is now an accomplished pianist who can play by note or by ear. But more than that, she is using her talent to minister to others...and to herself. Making music is not just an ability for her. It's a part of her soul. When she's bored, lonely, happy, or sad...she'll often wander to that antique piano and let her emotions float into song. And as usual, God's gift to her spills over onto the rest of us, as the haunting notes fill our home and our hearts soar with her fingers.

In an interesting, look-how-God-works way, the student has now become the teacher. Hillary is giving piano lessons to a young boy in our church. She is patient and encouraging. Mrs. Presson would be so proud. After all, she unlocked Hillary's talent, and gave her the keys to her own heart.