When I was in 8th grade my dad caved in to my mom’s insistence that we have a piano. Not a castoff or old upright, but brand new Kimball console. You might not think that’s strange, but as I watched the men from our church unload the monstrosity from the truck, I was as mystified as any 13-year-old girl could be. As soon as it was settled in the living room I had to ask. “Who’s going to play it?” You have to understand that we lived in a very small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where I didn’t know one piano teacher. And even if I had, my dad’s meager pastor’s salary wasn’t going to stretch across anyone’s mastery of the 88 keys of a piano. The story doesn’t end there, though.
The piano was like a magnet to me. I knew the basic notes and where middle C was because my sister, who had now been married for ten years, taught me how to play a few songs from a book when I was barely five years old.
Besides, I played clarinet in the school band. Surely I could learn how to play this magic instrument. Every day after school, the first thing I did was sit down and pick out a few lines from an old hymnbook. School was hard for me, so I had to spend extra time on homework, but every moment, even if I had only three minutes, my hands were somewhere on that piano.
A year went by and our elderly church pianist couldn’t play anymore so my dad said, “Well, Janie, guess it’s up to you.” I practiced harder for the next few months, then I was ready. My mom kept telling me to just be calm, don’t worry, you’ll do fine. I’m sure I looked at her like she had two heads. When you’re 14 and the congregation numbers only 65 people on a really good Sunday, being brave isn’t even a question. I didn’t think about the fact that I had never had a formal lesson or that I had taught myself how to play the piano. I just knew I could play songs and people actually recognized them, right?
The next year our school started a jazz band and needed someone to play the piano. I know what you’re thinking – – – but I got it and what a challenge. Playing show tunes was not your average 100-year-old hymn. It was fun and I practiced even more than before if that’s even possible. The real reward though, was when the school superintendent asked if I could play the piano for baccalaureate and graduation. I played that year and the next two years until I moved away from the area.
Recently, I wrote about the comforting prayer in Numbers 6:24-26 “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” Every time I hear that verse, it quiets my soul. It also takes me back to those years in Bergland, Michigan when every year, the choir sang the song, May the Good Lord Bless and Keep You …. Till We Meet Again.
May the good Lord bless and keep you
whether near or far away
May you find that long-awaited
golden day today
May your troubles all be small ones
and your fortune ten times ten,
May the good Lord bless and keep you
till we meet again
May you walk with sunlight shining
and a bluebird in every tree
May there be a silver lining
back of every cloud you see.
Fill your dreams with sweet tomorrows
never mind what might have been
May the good Lord bless and keep you
till we meet again
Words and music to this song: May the Good Lord Bless and Keep You were written and composed by Meredith Willson
Jane I truly loved this. Music is a healer for me. It gives me joy and is a great companion for an introvert which I am.
Thank you for taking time to read and then comment on my story. I don’t know where that came from but I was thinking about how our country is going through these devastating times. Somehow that song came to me and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it out.
Jane, my dear friend through Bizcatalyst, this is beautiful and so are you, so much healing words at a time that is surrounded in fear and uncertainty. God bless you
Thank you, Lynn. I was mostly just rambling my thoughts. It was a beautiful thing for you to read it and offer such a sweet comment. ❤️