Neither Are Your Ways My Ways

Several weeks ago friend Ken told me that he had a speaking assignment in the small branch in our stake, and asked if I would like to come and speak with him.

After I enthusiastically said yes, he told me that he also was going to sing a duet with his lovely daughter Elise, and asked if I would play the piano for that.

I was somewhat less enthusiastic, but agreed that I could accompany them.

Then I looked at the music that he had picked.

And started panicking.

I am a moderate pianist at best. I can play some hymns, but not particularly well. I can play many of the primary songs, but not all of them.

The arrangement of this song was by Sally DeFord, who must either be a gifted pianist or a real sadist. Or perhaps both. After the relatively simple first page the last few pages are filled (it's the classic bait and switch) with chords and multi-octive arpeggios, all in a difficult key.

I don't want you to think I'm just being whiny about this, though I have whined plenty. Ken's wife is a plays the piano brilliantly and she thinks this piece is challenging to play. Here's a bit of it.

As soon as I got the music I started practicing. Practicing, practicing, practicing. And then practicing, praying, praying, praying, practicing, praying, etc. I even cross-crawled to try to help my coordination. And then prayed and practiced some more.

I still couldn't do it.

Saturday I was still having problems. I practiced again late Saturday night and prayed some more. I told the Lord that I wasn't trying to play well so that I could get lots of compliments or glory; I wanted to play well so that I could help Ken & Elise have a good experience singing, and so that the people in the congregation would be more able to feel the spirit through the music.

I got up this morning and practiced some more, and it was a little smoother. Ken and Elise came to pick me up and we went through the song a few times. I still had some problem places.

We drove through the lovely fall morning up to the little branch in Virginia. We took the convertible, and I let Ken drive. (I'm cool that way.)

When we got to the church I found a piano and got my fingers warmed up and went over the trouble spots again, then went in to sacrament meeting.

My talk felt good and was over quickly, and then it was the moment of musical truth.

It went perfectly.

I think I made 2 small mistakes, and I consider that absolutely perfect. Ken and Elise sounded so lovely, and I know it was a beautiful experience for those who were listening.

But what was so interesting was the way it went perfectly.

I realized that what had happened was not that the Lord made me miraculously a far better pianist than I am, though I have no doubt that he could have done that. Instead over the last few days I became able to play fewer notes; to know which parts to leave out and which notes to leave out,and where I needed to slow down to get everything in. That might sound like a no brainer, but I was simply not able to make those changes on my own.

Instead of making me into more, he made me into enough.

And it was a miracle, even if it wasn't the miracle I thought I was asking for.