HE'S HEALING ME: ONE WOUND AT A TIME

The other night as I was drifting off to sleep, God brought a flashback to my mind of me getting frustrated at the piano as a child. And He showed me that the frustration was actually a form of anger that I was turning onto myself. When I woke up, I explored that further. Here's what I wrote in my journal:

As I think about it now, I imagine me sitting there in front of the piano, pounding the keys in anger and being yelled at for mistreating the piano. Out of guilt and fear (I didn't want to break such an expensive instrument), I stop pounding and I start yanking my hair and biting my hands as self punishment. The whole time I am crying uncontrollably. I feel dumb and worthless.

As I keep watching the scene, I see You come up to me, You take my hand and lead me away from the piano. You sit with me and cradle my hands in Yours.

What are you feeling? You ask.

Angry. I answer.

Why are you angry?

I can't do it. I can't make my fingers move the way they're supposed to. I can't play the music perfectly.

Do you feel like you can't live up to the expectation of what the composer has for this piece?

Yes. And I can't live up to the expectations of others.

What do you think I think of your piano playing?

I don't know. Disappointed?

No. I think it's beautiful music. It might not be what is written on the page, but it's your song, not someone else's. Olive, I don't expect you to be someone else. Your little mistakes and variations of tempo and loudness are not bad. They make the song yours. And even if others listening don't appreciate it, I do. You are giving it your best. And I treasure that.

So I can just play for you and you think it's beautiful?

Yep.