In Michelle Obama’s book Becoming, she recalls her very first piano recital as a young child.  Michelle’s aunt was her piano teacher and since their family lived in the upstairs apartment of her aunt’s home, piano lessons were just down the stairs.  She practiced on the same well-worn downstairs piano with the unmistakable chip on middle C key. The chip on that key was useful, it helped her know just where to place her hands each time she sat down to play.

When it came time for the recital Michelle was dressed and ready, she was excited and well rehearsed.  When it was her turn to perform and she sat on the bench of the beautiful piano in the recital hall, there was no chip on middle C.  She looked up and down those 88 keys and did not know where to put her hands to begin. The moment paralyzed her.

The world is in the same kind of moment.  Like a child rehearsed and ready to go, we sit confounded.  The very thing we were ready for just changed in ways far more significant than a chip on a piano.  We’re ready to play and to make music. We’re ready to learn and perform. We’re eager to show the world what we’ve been working on and eat congratulatory cookies together in the lobby, but we are suspended in this precarious moment.

In Michelle’s story, her aunt made her way up to the stage.  She gently helped Michelle to place her hands in position and encouraged her sweetly that she was ready to begin.  In my many moments of feeling frozen before this new world reality, I long for that kind of assurance and encouragement.  When I listen, I hear it every single day.

• I hear it in story after story of care and love.
• I hear it in “I’m just checking in” phone calls.
• I hear it in cards sent by complete strangers that elicit wide smiles.
• I hear it in meals delivered.
• I hear it in home sewing machines that zip out protective masks one after another.
• I hear it in music and art being made to lift our spirits.
• I hear it in teachers and parents working together in new ways.
• I hear it in virtual meetings, book clubs, and happy hours.
• I hear it in the voices of those working on behalf of people on the margins.
• I hear it anew every single day.

I hear us sweetly and gently encouraging one another with grace.  “You can do this.” “You’re ready to go.” “I’ve been thinking about you.”  “I care about you.” The landscape is different, but the spirit of the song will sing.

I hear it in the Easter alleluia.  The alleluias will not be silenced.  God is there to hold us, sustain us, strengthen us, forgive us, enlighten us, and give us the courage we need to make music in the face of the fear that might otherwise have grounded us.  Listen for an alleluia today, they are all around. Then, pick up your hands, place them into position, and play that beautiful song you were born to play.

– Pastor Sara Spohr

Prayer:

Gracious God, when I am paralyzed by what I cannot control or understand, guide me with your sweet and gentle love.  Make music in me today. Amen.