Wednesday I had piano lessons. It's part of my whole "live to the fullest" goal of 2017. I took piano lessons as a child, but detested practicing. When my piano teacher moved away, the lessons stopped and my days of painfully deciphering sheet music were over.
But I always regretted it. I would watch others who could sit down on the piano bench and make lovely music, and I would wish that I had stuck with it.
So I decided to take the plunge and start taking lessons again. I asked around to see if anyone had recommendations, and found a piano teacher. My first lesson started me off in a beginner's book, with the very basics, but it was new and exciting and when I sat down at my Grandma's piano to practice those three note songs I felt akin to Mozart.
And then, life. End of school events and running around and trying to squeeze in a few minutes to run up to Grandma's old house to practice. I found myself in the car on Wednesday heading to lessons knowing that I hadn't practiced like I should, and finding myself wishing that I wasn't in the beginner book and it wasn't so hard to try to figure out what the notes were while thinking of how softly the music should be played and which finger should be where...
and I thought how like life that is. We often want to start off in the most advanced position, with little practice and little effort... but that's not how it's set up. Before I learned to read I had to learn my alphabet, and then learn the sounds and how they are strung together to make words, and then eventually how sentence structure works. I didn't just pick up Gone with the Wind... I had to start with those elementary books.
And piano will be the same way. I'll eventually get the hang of it. I'll eventually be able to sight read and not think of where the notes are on the page.
In the meantime, I'll keep plucking away at three note songs and occasionally attempting Jesus Loves Me in the most elementary fashion...
Because God just likes my joyful noise, however it is made.
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