Prone to Wander, Joyfully Return

Michaela started taking piano lessons at the age of five, when we lived in Kentucky. She did very well, and really enjoyed playing and learning. She seemed to have an ear for music, as well as the ability to read it. This was amazing to me; when I took lessons, I had to practice and practice and practice before I was able to play a piece well, and it never came easily for me, even after taking lessons for years. There are other very musically inclined members in the family, though. Mike plays at least three instruments (the piano/keyboard, the drums, and the guitar); my dad is quite the musician, a singer and a piano player; my brother has played the piano/keyboard for over half of his life, and been in a band for about that long. (In fact, one of the reasons I quit playing is because he was so good, naturally. What a ding dong.) (Me. Not him.)

So, music is definitely in her genes. The list goes on in my family, extending to grandparents and cousins and aunts.  

Toward the end of spring last year, Michaela stopped wanting to play. I don't know if it got harder all of a sudden, or if she just went through a bit of a rebellious phase (Whew! Glad that's over! Right?! Ha!), but she didn't enjoy it, and she complained about it, and even got teary about some of her pieces that she was given to play. It cost quite a pretty penny to take lessons, and we thought that she needed a break for a while if she was practicing and going to lessons so grudgingly. We stopped lessons for the summer, and did not pick them back up when school started. 

Around January of this year, she asked if she could take lessons again. She had been playing a little of her old music, some hymns and Christmas songs. She would sit down and play randomly; no one asked her to, she just wanted to. She asked about it periodically over the next seven months, and Mike and I thought,"Well, she hasn't let up about starting lessons again...maybe she is ready to commit." I told her that it was serious, and she was going to need to do just that: commit to practicing every day, and playing whatever her instructor gave her to play. Even if she didn't want to or thought it was hard. Part of the joy of mastering an instrument (or anything, I suppose) is that feeling of accomplishment when you get to the point where you overcome the difficulties, and keep moving forward (I say to myself, in life in general). 

I'm happy to say that she has diligently practiced every day, of her own volition, and cheerfully. She surprised her teacher with how well she was playing after her long hiatus. (And I'm sure that I have surprised her teacher by not forgetting one lesson so far, nor being late. I'm sure I shouldn't be too proud...the year is young.)

I am proud of Michaela, though. There isn't much better than watching your kids work through hard moments and make mature decisions. If there were something better, it might be listening to your child play one of your favorite hymns. 

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.

Comments

[Kara]

I'm so glad she came back to it! And it being HER decision is special. My mom's a musician, and she tried to force me to play for years. I fought her for just as many years. I eventually won (teenagers are determined, if nothing else), and regret not knowing how to play now!

[Christina]

Kara, I hear you! I'm often sad that I quit. It was important to me that Michaela (and the others as well) like to play the instrument. Otherwise it's such a battle! I'm no warrior. :)

[Missy]

I took lessons for 7 years, myself, and have always been grateful. So glad she is coming back to it! And I LOVE that hymn! (Kentucky, huh??? I thought I detected a tad bit of southern to your writing. ;)

[Missy]

I could swear I posted last night. Alas... I too, took piano lessons for 7 years. I'd love to get my littlest into them in a year or two. We even have the piano. But, she seems the least interested in any form of music lessons. What a gift to come from musicians in the family AND to have an ear for it. Streams of Mercy, indeed! Love that hymn!!!