Piano Date

"I want a piano date before I leave."

There is a tradition in my family. A tradition, which requires when we all gather at Severn Way, someone plays the piano.

The sound of the instrument filling that old house is the closest thing to home I know.

And tonight, when my sister asked our dad to play with her, my heart stopped.

Our lives have changed.

We are not the same people we used to be.

And family get-togethers are not the same as I remember.

But the music is the same as it has always been.

A constant that brings my heart home.

So I cuddled up on the overstuffed chair beside the two of them who shared the piano bench.

Dad determined the key they would play in, and he started to make music.

My sister watched, listened, and began to play with him.

Sometimes she would stop and let him play by himself for a while.

And every now and then, he would let her play her own melody.

I cried.

Only a few tears. But I don't know where they came from.

Unbidden, for sure.

Then I recognized the parallel. Between my relationship with my heavenly Father and my dad's relationship with my sister.

I am sitting on the piano bench, legs dangling, cool ivory keys under my fingers. I know a song I could play. He sits down next to me and I feel my side of the cushion rise up. I begin to show Him what I have learned, and He is pleased. Listening and watching. His hands reach for the black and ivory keys and He plays a gentle note, not asking me to stop, just entering into the song. My first reaction is to stop playing. He is a much better musician than I am. But He doesn't want me to stop.

He wants to play with me.

To teach me how to make beautiful music.

Sometimes, the melody will become too intricate. I am not able to follow His fingers, to replicate what He plays. It is then I let go - letting Him play the song He wrote for me.

He has changed the song now.

And He is teaching it to me - patiently, gently. Forgiving of missed notes and bad chords.

His desire is really just to sit beside me.