Me : *gives a really WIDE chesire grin accompanied by intense buckling of the knees and trembling hands*
Ahh, the piano and I.
Our love/hate relationship is like no other.
When I first started, I was only 6. I remember those classes my mother made me take;
How my teacher would hit my knuckles with a long plastic ruler if I didn't curve my fingers properly or if I drew a treble clef out of shape. Perhaps I was too young to understand the value of discipline then.
I'd throw a huge tantrum every Saturday morning. Many a time, crocodile tears would flow together with feigned illnesses. In the end, my mother took pity on me and stopped classes. Suddenly, I was free again.
Until I turned 11 that is. I was suddenly (and forcefully!) told that I would be starting lessons again with an old friend of my parents.
I still remember the very first song my teacher taught me : God is so good in C major. I remember the pride I felt when I played that song for my oldest brother on his birthday.
Soon enough, the excitement began to wear off and I felt that lessons were becoming a burden again. Practice became less and less frequent. There were times when I never so much as touched the piano for weeks at end except during classes.
Even when I did practise, I did so when no one was at home because I was afraid of reprobation.(Constructive criticism didn't quite work for me then!) I especially hated exams (more specifically, the scales!) and found every possible way to dodge it.
My teacher was never the stern type. My knuckles were spared even when I made the most careless of mistakes. She always encouraged me to do better, never giving up on me.
Meanwhile, my mother kept pushing me to play at small functions. And that ALWAYS turned out to be a disaster! Even playing for a small crowd like in my school CF turned out to be too much of a task for me. Finally, I just gave up.
What was the point since I was talent-less anyway?
When I left secondary school, that was it for me. Bye-bye piano! Sure, I'll attend classes, play whenever I felt like it. But there would be no commitments whatsoever. I couldn't put myself out on the line anymore, since all I do is embarass myself in the end.
All that changed in college.
I attended CF one day and I saw this amazing pianist just giving ALL to God during worship. I was so awed that all I could do was watch and listen with my mouth gaping wide.
Immediately, a strange feeling swept over me. Till today, I don't really understand it. I've seen scores of fantastic pianists but never quite felt the same way as when I saw this particular pianist.
Waves of emotion swept over me. One of them was regret. Regret that I hadn't taken my lessons seriously. Regret that I had played the fool all these years.
Those feelings were so strong that I ran to the washroom to throw up, TWICE! Some of my friends thought it was because I ate too much char kuey teow for dinner, but I knew better.
That was the end of my life as I knew it. I couldn't sleep, eat or study for the next few days. All I thought about was the piano and how badly I wanted to take it up again, to serve the Lord in pretty much the ONLY way I knew how.
Still unwilling to practice on the piano at home, I made a deal with God. If He made the provision for me to buy a keyboard complete with earphones (so no one else could hear me playing), then I would practice my butt off and serve Him any chance I got. I know, how illogical is that? :p
Well, God must have heard me because almost a year later I actually had just enough money to buy myself a keyboard. And so I began to lock myself in my room and play for hours. I loved the piano but hated it at the same time. How's that for a paradox?
Sometimes I would get so frustrated with my lack of skills that I would just start banging on the piano like a crazed person! I wanted so desperately to be good at it but progress was extremely slow (and still is). Not to mention my indolence that tends to take over sometimes. And then I'd wonder if this was one of my half-past-six endeavors that I'd soon grow tired of.
Meanwhile, some of my well meaning friends kept encouraging me to play at CF. My first thoughts were, "Are you kidding me?!!! No way could I ever match up with that expert pianist!!"
So I steadily refused them for many months, eventhough I secretly desired to play.
When that amazing pianist left, I was less intimidated and agreed to play once. I wasn't too worried either because my best friend was backing me up on the keyboard. If I messed up, she'd be there to save the day.
But on that day, I was trembling and my hands were literally numb. What would people think of me when they saw how terribly I played? What if this happened...or that? What if I fainted???!!
A good friend who probably couldn't take my complaining any longer finally said, "You're not playing for anyone in the audience. You are playing for Jesus."
OF COURSE I knew that in theory but the reality of it didn't hit me until then. I didn't have to be an expert pianist to serve God. I could just be me, an imperfect individual.
And that was the only reason why I stepped on stage that day despite the trepidation I felt.
My playing wasn't fantastic though I wish it was. But I am so grateful that I was surrounded by people who encouraged me to the point where I could move past my weaknesses.
That was about a year and a half ago.Now, through a series of bizarre events I find myself in my church worship team.
I played for the first time today in front of hundreds of people.
Coming to the end of the story (if anyone DID read all the way!), you would think that it should at least have a happy ending, right?
But you know what?
I found myself playing utter nonsense, almost totally out of sync with the rest of the team. I even forgot at one point that I was supposed to play an intro !! Yikes!!!
Surprisingly, I don't feel utterly despondent like I usually would. In fact, I actually feel encouraged to move forward. That's probably because a few kind souls took the time to reassure me that I didn't mess up (You won't be reading this, but thanks a lot anyway!) and also because God still loves me despite it all.
If I do get debooted, which seems likely enough at this point, I'd probably be upset and mope around a bit but I'll be fine.
I suppose I'm learning to take everything in stride.
Well it being the 14th of February and all,
Happy Valentines to everyone!
0 comments:
Post a Comment