Unleashing Joy

"Don't put the kids to bed yet.  We're waiting on a phone call."

"Dad!  What is it?  What are we waiting for?"  Our three children clamor around Josh, tripping over each other's sentences.

"Guys.  It's mom's birthday weekend..  No questions."

Approximately 17 minutes later (no, really, I wasn't counting) the phone rang.

"All right, gang.  Hop in the van!" 

We parked in the darkened drive of a house a few miles down the road.  Mac greeted us with outstretched hand, wide smile.  "Here it is, buddy.  What do you think?  Is it what you were looking for?"

My heart leapt into my throat even as I kept my well-trained Craig's List poker face on.  I turned and gazed big-eyed at Josh.

Mac was running his hand over the smooth finish of a well-worn piano nestled in his garage.  Nothing fancy;  no bells or whistles.  Just a simple instrument that has been cared for and loved.

"We've built a new house down in Carolina; and well, there's just no place for it anymore." 

Transaction complete, we settled on a pick-up day this weekend. 

Now let's go ahead and lay something on the table.  I am no prodigy.  Far from it.  I took lessons for maybe three years or so back in elementary and middle school from a music professor at a local college. 

I practiced my thirty minutes a day and plunked out Christmas carols for passersby in a shopping mall.  I dressed fancy for recitals and critiques.  I experimented with all the different sounds on my mom's synthesizer when they first came out in the 80's. 

And I remember the day my parents were out and I was angry with my brother.  Tears streaming down my purple face, I rushed pell-mell to the piano bench.  I threw myself down hard with the strength that only an offended middle school girl can possess. 
 I whipped open my music book to Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" and pounded hard the keys.  Each note crashed a forceful staccato; I am sure in no way like the great master intended for it to be played.  But I think he would understand nonetheless.

Beethoven

I sat there long, the same notes over and over again pouring out.  As my tears slowly began to dry, the music beneath my fingers gradually found a smoother rhythm.  After about 45 minutes of  the same song, the storm had subsided into a beautiful melody flowing through my fingertips. 

There is something special that happens in a soul when music is created.  It's far more powerful than simply listening to music.  Something is unlocked that perhaps at other times is closed.  Music has a way of revealing the mysterious and unleashing joy.  

And so, I await the delivery of my new-old piece of beauty.  And I hug my husband, the man who understands my yearnings and desires.  

Enjoy today,

P.S.  You are welcome here!  Thank you for stopping by for a visit.  Feel free to join the conversation by leaving a comment and sharing your thoughts.