Mom's Talent

My mom is the best pianist I know. She can sight read almost anything, accompany both large and small choirs, play solos and duets masterfully, and make any hymn from the hymnbook sound like a beautiful composition.

I often wish that I could play like my mom and lament the fact that I cannot.

Then I am reminded of one simple truth: My mom practices. Every day. I do not.

Every day, or sometimes at night, my mom plays the piano. Sometimes it’s for the sheer enjoyment of playing. Sometimes it’s because she’s trying to work out a tricky passage in a piece. Sometimes it’s because she’s trying to figure out the perfect piece to match the theme of worship. Sometimes it’s because she’s arranging the pieces that she will play as the prelude or postlude to a funeral or wedding.

Regardless of what she’s doing, she plays every day. Dad and I get the benefit of her practice and of the consistent truth that her talent exemplifies: We won’t master everything the first time we try it, but if we keep trying, we will get better, and things will get easier, and something lovely will emerge.

We also are reminded of this: Things don’t just happen. Instead, they take time, intention, planning, preparation, and prayer. Then, and only then, can they be pulled off seamlessly.

Dear God: May we, like my mom, be a people of practice, perseverance, and prayer—especially in regards to the talents that You have entrusted to our care. We love you. And I thank you especially for the music that I hear every day. Amen.