♫♪ And There Was Music ♫♪

Let me first admit that I took piano lessons for three years as a kid and I hardly EVER practiced. I played by ear, so whenever I sat down at the piano bench, I was much more interested in working out my own version of the latest pop song than practicing. My poor music teacher did manage to teach me a couple of songs, including the one in the video at the end of this post, but when I realized that learning to read music messed up my ability to play by ear, I went with my ear.

We had a piano in our home when our kids were small, and I played it often and hard. (I think to this day, hearing “Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog” pounded out on the piano strikes fear in the hearts of my children. They knew if Mama was playing that song, they’d better back off!)

We got rid of that piano in a move, but over the years, I’ve really missed having a piano. Playing is therapeutic, it is worship, it is fun, and it is great for contemplation. A great tool for a writer, in fact.

Unfortunately, whenever I did have an opportunity to play, I was shocked at how rusty I was and how many of the songs in my repertoire were just lost.

I was thrilled to discover an Airbnb we booked a few years ago had a spinet piano to play. But I’ve always had a dream—one that seemed silly since I play only for my own enjoyment—of owning a baby grand piano. If you’ve read my novella in the O Little Town Collection, you won’t be surprised to know that when I wrote about Rachel’s baby grand piano, I was really dreaming about my baby grand.

Two years ago when my sweet dad gave each of his kids a nice chunk of money from the summer’s wheat crop, that baby grand seemed possible for the first time. I even went and looked at several offerings at a local music store and one beautiful, but in-need-of-serious-work baby grand on Facebook Marketplace.

My sympathetic husband bought me a darling antique child’s toy baby grand, and I do love it. But it wasn’t quite what I had in mind.

I finally gave up my search and decided it just wasn’t meant to be. But then we went to Texas and our fifteen-year-old granddaughter was learning to play the piano. She and I tinkered around and had so much fun!

And then our Missouri grandkids got the piano their dad had grown up with and we tinkered around and had so much fun. And I started dreaming again.

After a scam attempt (that I was onto right away—and sadly there are many out there), I almost gave up again. But then a piano showed up in a nearby town and it seemed legit. The piano wasn’t exactly a baby grand. It was what I call a “snub-nosed” baby grand: three-legged and the shape of a baby grand with a lifting lid, but only three feet wide, so it would fit in our house much better. And the piano was electronic—not something I’d considered—yet suddenly, all the pieces started falling into place. I learned that not only do electronic pianos never need tuning, but you can also plug in headphones so the world (and your husband) isn’t subjected to your therapy sessions.

And then the owner told me that he’d been praying—praying!—that the right person would get the piano. Honestly? I confessed to him, “Well, you need to know that I don’t even read music. I only play for fun. So I’m sure there’s someone who would be a better fit for—”

He didn’t even let me finish. “It sounds like you might be just right for this piano.”

And so, we went to see it—and just look at it! Beautiful! I played it, feeling a little self-conscious—but a whole lot excited. The piano was almost twenty years old, but in excellent condition. It has a full keyboard, and the keys are weighted to make it feel like playing an acoustic piano. The sound was so clear and bright! And the price was right! Not even 1/3 of the budget my dad’s gift allowed!

So I bought it! It about killed me that we couldn’t bring it home that day, but we needed to round up four strong men to load the unwieldy piano. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t get a photo of our youth pastor and the three awesome, muscular high school kids he enlisted to help. They did a fabulous job. The piano now graces our living room and I am over the moon!

I’ve been thrilled to find that all the songs I knew and played as a young girl and later a young mom, were still right there in my brain just waiting to get out! Isn’t that amazing? Decades later, measure by measure, all the songs are coming back, and the amount of “practicing” I’m doing would make my music teacher so proud! Haha!

Yesterday our Missouri family all came over and we had a blast playing together. The grandkids discovered that Mimi’s piano can sound like an organ or a jazz band or a string quartet! And it has a percussion option! (I may wish I hadn’t disclosed that little fact! Ha!)

I’m not ready for a recital—I have no desire to ever play in public—but oh, the joy of music! Hymns and worship songs and pop songs from my youth and a few classical pieces—all played badly, but with great gusto.

Here’s a song I thought was lost, but it all came tumbling back over the course of a few hours of practice. If anyone knows what this piece is called or who the composer is, please tell me! And please forgive my mistakes and know that I’m aware my fingering is poor and my rhythm is non-existent. I’m just tickled pink to be playing again. (Thank you, Daddy!)

Do you play a musical instrument? Have you kept up with it over the years since you first learned? Why or why not? I’d love to hear your story!