Playhouse, September 1, 2010

There’s a chart written down in some book I’ve read that gives the appropriate gift type for each anniversary. I don’t remember what #43 was according to the “list,” but for me it was music.

 

Last Tuesday, Othel got back from Brookhaven just minutes before I drove in from the nursing home. He had gone down to check on his mother and help her with some odd jobs. My heart smiled when I saw the lights burning on the front porch. Othel met me at the backdoor, gave me a bear hug and said, “Close your eyes.”

He guided me up the hall as I pictured a new outfit he had probably bought for me. “Open your eyes!” he said with excitement. Sitting at the end of our den was a new digital piano.

I stood frozen in shock as I looked at an instrument I had dreamed about for years. He flipped a small switch and told me to sit down and play. Lights streaked down the keyboard and illumined options of every imaginable instrument and rhythm.

I touched a beautiful shiny key and an organ note bellowed through the room. I cranked up the volume and for the next hour I played with a symphonic orchestra, a ragtime band, and a room filled with accomplished violinists.

“There’s a rhythm section, too,” he said, remembering the salesman’s demo. I pushed another button and a section of percussion instruments joined in. That phenomenal plug-in piano was a one-man Lawrence Welk show and I was Lawrence!

I stopped to ooh and ahh and then play some more. With every button I discovered a wonderful new sound and rhythm. There would never be another “plain” hymn but a full orchestra rendition and no more skipping the sour notes on my old piano.

Othel’s been great to remember our anniversary with a special gift to mark each year, but this year he topped them all. He gave me music!

If you could hear me play a hymn on my old piano and then hear the same song on my new digital instrument, you’d understand my excitement. My basic notes are surrounded and embellished with multiple tones and rhythms that turn “ho-hum” music into symphonic concerts.

 I was on verse sixteen of “The Way That He Loves” when I realized Jesus had done the same thing with my “generic” life. He took what I offered Him and turned it into joy and peace, removing my fear of death and replacing it with hope and a future. Sometimes I think I’ll be swept away in His great overture that He plays in and around my life. And the best part – His music will never end.  

About Chris Elkins

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