Give Me Patience! Now!

I homeschooledPatience Meme our daughters, and I teach college-level developmental courses (that’s remedial reading and English for those who don’t know the lingo).  People remark, “Oh, you must have so much patience!”  Nope. Anyone who has known me longer than ten minutes would know that patience is a virtue I lack.

I must admit, I am tired of listening to songs and editing.  I know that editing makes things better, but it’s slow, and I want to be done. I want to be finished with listening and move on to the fun part—sharing—but hurrying the process will lead to regret later (not to mention lost sales).

The Bible is replete with examples of those who lacked patience. Sarah, longing for the fulfillment of God’s promise of a son, introduced a third person into her marriage and altered the course of history (Gen. 16). King Saul, impatient because Samuel was late, offered a burnt offering himself and forfeited his kingdom (1 Sam. 13). Peter, always the impatient one, wanted to build shelters to worship Moses, Elijah, and Jesus, rather than waiting for God’s plan of salvation to be completed (Luke 9:28-36).

Peter later reminds us that patience is one of God’s qualities. “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Pet. 3:9, ESV). I’m sure that since he loves us, God wants us to be with him right now, but he waits to give as many of us as possible a chance to repent and renew our relationship with Him.  If we wish to be like God, we develop patience.

The Apostle John, at the end of his life, knew that patience was not easy.  In fact, the English Standard Version of the Bible translates John’s words as “patient endurance” four times in the book of Revelation. When we are patient, we are waiting, putting up with circumstances until Better comes along.

It’s time for me—and all of you—to remember Solomon’s advice in Ecclesiastes 7:8: “The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride” (ESV).

Small Decisions, Big Impact

We never really know when a small event in our lives turns out to be something significant. Small choices, over time, come to define our lives. Visiting the camp cook lets you meet a young man who turns out to be the love of your life; a casual conversation with a flippant comment leads to your dream job; going to chapel when you don’t feel like it leads to a new friend and a bucket list project.*

It was Thursday.  I didn’t want to leave my office for a sermon.  My rocking chair beckoned. A good book was begging to be opened. I had a Keurig and a cappuccino pod. The only thing that could get me out of my office was the thought that professors should be an example of the conduct we expect from students.  My body went to chapel, but my head and heart were elsewhere.  We had a guest speaker, and frankly, I was not the most attentive listener.  I was curious, but not moved. At least I had my knitting.

Then he mentioned his Steinway and how much he loved it.  He told a story similar to how I found TOM. I perked up. I stopped knitting. He talked about writing and recording and using your gifts to bless others.  I thought, “I’ve always wanted to do that!”  I heard a voice in my head which said, “Take him home and show him your piano.” I decided that I would invite him and the college president’s wife to my home for a quick demonstration.  My house was a mess, and the only things in the house for lunch were tortillas and cheese (I was out of salsa), but the music seemed more important.

Eric Elder and Carol Stine came into my disheveled house, but all we cared about was the piano.  I began to play, and they got teary-eyed.  Eric even asked if he could stretch out under the piano so he could feel the vibrations (I play loud; there must Eric and Ibe a LOT of vibrations!). Eric played the piano so I could listen while Carol and I fixed a simple lunch.  We ate, and made it back to the college just in time for Eric to speak that afternoon.  This time I paid attention.  Eric was no longer just a visiting speaker; he was a friend who understood my love of my piano.

We made arrangements for Eric to visit and help me record my music.  He’s been an invaluable helper as Bob and I have worked on my album project, Streams for the Soul.  The small decision to go to chapel led to a new friend and new opportunities.

God often speaks in the still, small voice.  If we listen, we may find that a small decision can change our lives.

 

*All of these are absolutely true for me.

TOM and I

I am a pianist.  Any musician will tell you that the relationship between an artist and their instrument is a special one, and the relationship I have with my Shigeru Kawai SK-6 is no exception. Just like all couples falling in love have a story, most musicians can tell you exactly how they got their instrument.  This is my story.

Four years ago, my husband and I went out for a leisurely Saturday breakfast.  Sitting over pancakes and coffee, he asked me what I planned to do that day.  “I’m going to buy a grand piano,” I said.  To his credit, he didn’t spit out his coffee like the person at the next table did, overhearing us.  Bob asked how I intended to pay for it, I told him, and after picking up some music at home, off we went.

I already knew what sort of piano I wanted, and about how much it would cost.  I knew why I wanted it: I’ve always wanted a grand piano, and my 60th birthday loomed.  “I’m not getting any younger,” I said.  “If I wait much longer, I won’t have much time to enjoy it.”  My dream piano would be at least a six-footer, shiny black, with a bright tone that sounded like bells.  I had always loved Kawai pianos, so that was our first stop.

In the store, I sat down at a model which looked like a good candidate.  It was the right length, and the price was just about what I thought it should be. It was nice, but the salesman thought I should play several more, especially one in particular.  I fiddled around on other instruments in the showroom, then he ushered me into the empty recital hall.  I sat on the bench in front of a Shigeru Kawai SK-6 and fell in love.

From the first notes, I knew that this one was mine.  It was responsive, the touch was just right, the tone sounded like angels singing.  I played the whole song.  At the end, there was applause.  The front two rows were filled with retirees who were arriving for their group organ lesson.  I hadn’t even noticed them come in.  I stood up and looked for the price tag. I was crushed—I didn’t know that pianos could cost that much, at least not the ones that weren’t 9-foot Steinways destined for Lincoln Center.  I tried to put that particular instrument out of my mind—it was so far over my budget there was no point in dreaming.

The salesman and my husband (who already knew that the budget was about to go out the window) took me to the wonderful piano’s little sister.  It was nice.  It was the right size, the right finish, the right touch, and only twice my budget. When I played it, though, it sounded like a really good operatic soprano—not angels.  I was happy, but not ecstatic.  However, Shigeru Kawai pianos come with a set-up by one of their awesome piano technicians, and the salesman assured us that the technician could voice the piano to reproduce those singing angels.  I put money down to hold it, and we left.

Over the next week, I played lots of pianos.  Yamahas, Steinways, Baldwins, Bosendorfers, Kawais, Shigeru Kawais—you name it.  If there was a piano in the city I thought would be comparable, I played it. I took a student with me to listen.  At the end of the quest, the student told me which one he preferred for himself, and then said that the Shigeru SK-6 that I loved just sang when I played it.  All other pianos just hummed.

That afternoon I had a chat with the music store manager about financing and delivery dates.  I told him I would have the money for the piano by the weekend, but the piano I really wanted was the beautiful SK-6 in the recital hall.  He said he’d see what he could do.  Fifteen minutes later, he called and said that he wanted to be sure I was sitting down and had a pencil.  I was, and I did.  He said the store owners had agreed to sell me the angels’ piano for only $3000 more than I would pay for the smaller one.  After I recovered from my faint, I called my husband, who again did not flinch (a strong man, that one). He said, “I guess you’ll be dropping by the music store on the way home, then.” Yup.  That’s exactly what I did, and within two weeks the amazing piano was sitting in my living room.  We call it TOM, short for “The Other Man.”

I play it for hours nearly every day. It still sounds like angels.  In fact, the first time people hear it, the reaction is usually tears. My dream is to let everyone hear TOM, and now I’ve made a recording.  Watch this space to see how you can hear him, too. Public service warning:  Sit down, and keep a tissue handy.  You might need one.