My Piano

Some of the chapels in Bolivia had a piano but often no one knew how to play so we'd sing a cappella and off-key each week. Most of the hymns' melodies were changed a bit too (a result of bolivianos learning songs without a piano) which made some gringos a bit annoyed--but I decided early on that I was going to yield to the mission which meant not only eating what they ate and speaking how they spoke but also singing how they sang.

I didn't realize that one of the expectations that Bolivian members have of American missionaries, especially sisters, is a.)to be able to sing like an angel, and b.)to know how to play the piano. On both of these expectations I was a total upset. I couldn't play the hymns and bring the loveliness of accompaniment to the meetings. I actually did take lessons as a kid from the ages of eight to twelve but because of craziness in my home life and insufficient funds I had to quit. I lost almost everything I had learned and wasn't able to do much other than pick out the right hand and play some memorized songs. I did try to play the right hand of hymns in Bolivia, but it was a mess- a complete embarrassment and failure. I think the members there saw me as a broken sister missionary. That is how I felt. After that I gave the piano up for good...or for a while.

A few years ago my mom asked me if I could house the piano that I grew up with since she was short on space in her home. At the time, I didn't know where I would put it either so I told her no. The piano then went to my older brother. Not long after that I started to kick myself for saying no. When my brother moved to California recently I was secretly hoping his new place would be too small and he'd have to leave the piano. That didn't happen.

I started to contemplate life without a piano and my kids not ever having the chance to play and that life felt dreary and heavy. Some of my favorite memories are hearing the hymns played on the piano. It wasn't me playing...it was my friend Emilie who would eat dinner with us on Sundays. I told David two years ago that I needed a piano and I wanted to start taking lessons again. Dave blew me off because it didn't seem important to him. He quit the piano early on after his mom told him all about sex. He couldn't stand it when his piano teacher sat next to him on the bench and her leg touched his. He probably associates pianos with that creepy feeling to this day. He also sees a piano as a large, heavy, and noisy piece of furniture and that's it.

My friend down the street, who had two pianos and needed to sell one, knew that I had this desire to get a piano no matter what. She sold me her piano (David grumped and sulked about the fact that he didn't have a choice in this) and after one month of asking David to get some men to move it, he finally did. Yesterday, our home became more of a home. I am really excited about taking it up again. I have already been trying to play primary songs and was delighted after I played Jesus Once Was A Little Child when I heard Lou and little D singing it around the house.