P and C picked me up yesterday so I could go with them to their afternoon group organ lessons at a local music store and get out of the house for awhile since I still can’t drive on my own. The lessons have been something that C has delighted in and he was tickled that I wanted to go along to hear him. A stroke has left him in a wheelchair with the use of one side, but he’s sharp as a tack and funnier than a crutch and full of the kind of practical jokes he can manage to handle. I delight in this man! (And you too P!)
Off we go to spend the 45 minutes before the lesson begins sitting around the table in the store, having coffee and cookies, and talking up a storm with the others who trickled in one by one. Yes I was the youngest one in age there by quite a bit. But oh how the youth in the hearts of these people I met astounded me!
I’ve played piano since I was 6. I’m used to one long keyboard and 3 pedals max. Not 2 or more keyboards and a jillion buttons to push for rhythm and sounds. I learned a little something about playing the organ as well, but I learned more about the music of the heart, no matter what our age.
For the next hour or so I listened to each one take their turn at the organ. I watched the shoulders sway (along with a wig), I smiled through what my mother used to call “clunkers” and recalled recitals that require every mother before and after me to manage that same smile, I applauded like a madwoman after each performance, and I watched the delight on their faces after their performances because they were having FUN!
And ya know something?
It was the most joyful noise I’ve ever heard!
For it doesn’t matter how many “clunkers”….. it only matters that your heart has music.
I can’t wait to go back.