I have 10 fingers. And here’s their story…
At age 7 my parents thought it would be a good idea to get me into piano lessons.
I remember being very little and it took me three weeks to get through Blow the Man Down. I cried and cried, but dad-gum it, I learned it and earned my coveted star sticker.
Soon, I advanced to higher levels. My fingers began to obey the commands of my brain more readily. Notes came to the tip of my fingers more quickly. I played Fur Elise and Moonlight Sonata with the best of them, tackled the quick paced Toccatina, and struggled through Bach more than once.
My hands began to actually play music. Not just notes…music.
At about age 10 or so, my parents bought me a new little upright and I was on top of the world.
Soon, I figured out I could play AND sing. Oh, Amy Grant was my BFF in the private times in my room. I’d play Fat Baby and Raining on the Inside and sing my heart out.
At my first college, I’d slip away and play all by myself in the afternoon when no one was in the practice rooms. I loved that feeling of being alone, just me and the piano. Something comforting about my hands on eighty-eight black and whites and the freedom to create whatever my soul felt like.
These hands began to play the big boys: Beethoven, Chopin, Mozart, Liszt, Debussy, Bach, Gerswhin. And for that, my dad bought me my most treasured possession in my house next to baby pictures and my Bible– my Kawaii Semi-Concert Grand.
It was there for me when I was heart broken and needed to weep and play in silence in the dark. It was with me when I’d cry and practice for hours for the biggest recital of my life. It put out sweet music to my tiny baby in my womb. It kept me company when my husband was out of town. It kept perfect pitch when I needed to sing to Jesus for awhile.
Soon, these hands figured out how to play worship songs without sheet music. Then and there I moved into a whole new level of the art of piano playing. To mix the years of theory studies with the Spirit of Worship is to make something new and beautiful every time.
I’ve worshipped on so many stages with so many followers of Jesus. I’ve wept at the piano unable to make it through songs. I’ve played through communion as believers remembered what Christ did on the Cross. I’ve sang the offertory song for those who needed to hear a new word over their lives. I’ve stopped singing in my microphone just to listen to their voices lift up the name of Jesus. I’ve sat behind that piano and secretly prayed for those out there who’s story had just been interrupted by tragedy and heartache. I’ve stared holes into those who didn’t know Jesus and prayed that maybe that day would be the day they surrendered.
Sadly, it’s been almost four years since I had the honor and privilege of playing the piano and singing on a worship team. Oh, how I miss it. That part of my life is over for awhile and that’s okay. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until right now, with beautiful music in my ear as I type oh, I do miss it.
Now, these hands that have played millions of notes and years of playing for worship have found a new place. Here, on this computer, they fly around and play for you laughter, insight, truth, and love.
If you can’t hear the music of my hands anymore, hear them in the clicking of my keyboard.
They still play music, it’s just in another form now.
I love my hands. Though I viewed them as a weakness, Christ used for His glory. I think I’ve heard that somewhere before…
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.