I used to be a pianist. I used to know the feeling of those keys better than almost anything else my hands touched.
Music was my life, for a while. I taught it, played it, loved it, and tried to get it into my brain and my heart in every way that I could.
My dream was to have a framed diploma hanging over my piano, announcing to the world (or at least anyone who came into my house) that I had achieved my goal – that I had accomplished my dream.
But two months before the hopeful fulfillment of that dream, everything fell apart. The muscles in my arms could take the constant tension and pressure no more, and in the span of two weeks, I lost it all.
I haven’t played since. Five years of learning to live without music.
I tried everything I could to recover. Physiotherapy, massage, chiropractic, acupuncture, relaxation clinics…Any suggestions anyone had, I tried it.
Finally, I flew to Toronto to visit the Musicians Clinic. And there I was told, “You’re pushing too hard. You need to let go.”
And I said, “I can’t.”
The doctor said, “What would be so bad about allowing your dream to change?”
And I said, “I can’t.”
I went home, and with nothing else I could do, I tried to ignore it. A gaping hole in my life, and I pretended it wasn’t there.
But at random moments, it would make it’s presence known. Piano music would bring sudden, unexpected tears. My fingers would still move along to a tune, playing imaginary keys.
Music will always be a part of me. I still dream of being able to play again. But I also dream of new things now – things that fill my heart and ignite my soul even more than teaching piano ever did.
I don’t believe that God gave me tendinitis, but I do believe that He redeemed the situation. He made room for something new, when I didn’t have the courage to do that myself.
I will keep on dreaming, but I hope to always leave room for a change in plans – because God’s dreams for me are always a lot better than my own!
Ordinary Days 