Every Single Tuesday

It had been a difficult year for our family. A storm had blown into us, and had taken us off course.  Or at least it felt that way.  We prayed throughout the storm, asking for the winds to settle, and for the seas to lie down.  We prayed asking for direction, as we were fairly certain we’d been blown off course. We asked for help to keep our little boat afloat.  There were plenty of times during that year that we weren’t sure that we would stay afloat. 

On the good days we kept our heads down and tried to just keep going.  And on the bad days we prayed even harder. Pleading for help.  For a safe harbor.  

And through it all, our kids watched our every move.  Worried that we weren’t somehow “okay.”  Fiercely defending us.  And trying in their child brains to sort out details that weren’t clear to us in our adult brains.  

Each of them weathered the storm in their own way.  At times growing stronger by the moment, and at other times regressing to their younger years which seemed safer than this particular year did.

Our daughter Anna was 9 that year.  She is our second-born and wasn’t quite as quick as her older sister in verbalizing whatever she was thinking or feeling.  

Instead, Anna turned to music as her expressive outlet for processing the chaos. She had composed a little tune at the piano, and many times a day, every day, she would sit down at the piano and start playing her composition.  Over and over.  Giving expression to what she couldn’t express any other way.

Money was tight that year.  Tighter than we’d ever experienced before.  But the more we watched Anna at the piano the more we felt the need to get her back into piano lessons.  We believed she needed that outlet.  We just couldn’t see how we could afford it.

We talked about it.  And we prayed about it.  We asked God to show us how to help her.  Maybe there was someone Anna could talk with, who might just help usher in some reassurances for her that everything would be fine. Someone who shared her love of music.

One particularly stressful afternoon I finally made a call to Colleen, a woman who lived two blocks down the road from us.   We knew her to be a kind and gentle woman with many talents.  One of her talents was playing the piano, and another talent was teaching music.  We were broke, struggling to pay even our basic bills.  But we thought that maybe if Anna could have a lesson with Colleen just once or twice a month, instead of weekly, we could afford it.  

Colleen answered the phone, and after a greeting, I told her why I was calling. I asked if it was at all possible for Colleen to give Anna lessons after school, maybe just once or twice a month instead of weekly.  I explained that I thought we could afford once or twice a month.

She listened quietly while I explained why I was calling.  Then she said that she would be happy to give Anna piano lessons.  But she thought they should meet every week. 

 I started to object, to explain again that we couldn’t actually afford weekly piano lessons.  

“I won’t be charging you,” she said simply, in her soft-spoken manner.

Again I started to object.  I wasn’t asking for a hand-out.  We were needing some help for our 9-year-old.  But I wasn’t asking for charity.  We could pay, at least for one or two lessons a month.  I thought.

She listened silently while I went through my litany of objections.  But she wasn’t swayed by them.

Finally, she said, “I actually think this is God answering my prayers.  And I won’t be charging.  Tell Anna to walk down to our house Tuesday after school and we’ll get started.” 

And that was that.  

My eyes welled up with tears, and I worked hard to try to keep my voice level as I thanked her.  

And then she actually thanked me.  

“I have been asking God to show me how I could help your family during this time,” she affirmed.  “This is the answer to MY prayers.”

The following Tuesday after school Anna marched down to Colleen’s house for her piano lesson.  And pretty quickly Colleen became a special friend to Anna, offering reassurance and calm amidst the chaos.

Anna loved playing the piano.  She loved music.  She loved Colleen.

Her music lessons with Colleen were a gift.  For Anna.  For us. And I think also for Colleen. They also served as a reminder. That even in the darkest of times God answers prayer.  And usually does so in a manner which blesses everyone involved.  

And in case we weren’t clear on that, we had a reminder.  Every single Tuesday.  

Colleen and John:  Thank you.