Monday, July 16, 2012

Piano, the Language of My Soul

I have been playing the piano since I was like, 8 or 9.  I was a weird student.  My mom rarely or never had to remind me to practice.  I enjoyed practicing.  I wasn't athletic, didn't dance or do gymnastics.  Piano was 'me'.  It was my thing.  My talent. 

As I got older, it became a passion.  I didn't even realize it was becoming a passion.  A few years ago, my mom told me that when I was in high school, she could always tell when something was bothering me because I would spend more time behind the piano.  I didn't even realize back then that I did that.  It is still true of me to this day - playing the piano is what I long to do when something is really bothering me. 

There have been a few times in life over the past few years that I've gone a month or two without playing the piano at all.  I think it's typically been right after the birth of a baby or the loss of a baby.  The birth of a baby made it physically difficult to be behind the keys on a Sunday morning at church, only because the new baby demanded my attention.  The loss of a baby made it emotionally difficult to sit at the piano bench, because I was afraid of the emotion that might spill out for all to see while I played. 

I think I've realized something over the past several years: playing the piano is a means for my soul to speak.  I'm not great with words, I'm not an eloquent speaker.  It's difficult for me to communicate with words what's going on in my heart, mind, and soul.  But music can do that for me.  My soul can 'speak' when I make music with my fingers.

I'm afraid to use that language right now.  I have a piano at home, but it's a bit of a challenge to find time to play it without 40 other fingers competing with mine.  The place that is easiest for me to play is at church.  Jason is sweet - he keeps an eye on the kids during band practice on Sunday mornings, so I have very few interruptions from those 40 fingers I compete with at home.  And then I get to play during the service.  But playing on a Sunday morning with other musicians, and playing in front of other people feels too vulnerable right now.  Like people will be able to see inside my heart and know how much hurt is there.  And I don't want to expose that to everyone.

Oh, but I want Elliana to hear me play.  It might still be a little early for her to be able to hear sounds outside the womb, but that time is coming soon.  I want her to hear Beethoven and Chopin.  I want her to hear her mama play passionately.  I want music to be pleasing and enjoyable to her ear because she's heard it all of her life. 

I've read that she can hear my voice now, and I want her to hear me sing.  Something other than 'Lulu'.  I want her to hear me sing about her heavenly Father, the One who formed her, the One who loves her, the One who will heal her body and make her whole one day. 

But it's so difficult to play right now.  I think it's just because I fear feeling like my heart is naked and exposed.  And maybe I fear that whatever my soul is communicating isn't beautiful??  It doesn't seem like it will lead others to worship - which is the goal on a Sunday morning.  I'm afraid I'll just cry.  And it's difficult to sing, to speak the truths in those songs of worship... because I'm struggling with many of those truths.  I don't know how to sing about the heavenly Father I want Elliana to know... because I just don't understand Him right now.  It feels like He's done something cruel, and I don't know how I can sing all of those songs about how good He is.

I want Elliana to know and love music, the language of her mother's soul, so I will play.  As often as I can.  And I will do my best to sing.  Even though my heart is torn, I know that God is good.  Even though I just want to scream, 'WHY?!?', I know that this is His plan.  And even though I'd so much rather hold a perfect, healthy Elliana in my arms for a long, long time, I know that He created her exactly the way He wants her; He hasn't made any mistakes in forming her tiny little body.  Maybe playing and singing doesn't have to look like 'worship' right now, not the way worship looked for me a few weeks or months ago.  Maybe it just looks like being thankful for her.  Maybe playing and singing can just be one of the ways that I love her right now.  Really believing those truths about my Father, and really worshiping - I think that will come.  Eventually. 

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