I have lots of little hobbies that keep me busy and add a little color to my life: trying a new recipe, going on walks, reading novels, starting a garden, launching this blog... But, nothing brings rest to my soul quite like playing the piano.
As a teenager, I would often sit down at my parents' piano for an hour or two and simply diappear into the music. It didn't matter how my day at school had gone. Once I started playing, the music enveloped me and my world disappeared. I always stood up from my piano bench feeling closer to God and more at peace than I did when I sat down.
When I headed off to college, I quickly mapped out where all the best pianos were on campus. (A certain young man, who I now call my husband, did the same.) The gorgeous, black grand piano in the church on campus was my favorite. Sometimes, the doors were left unlocked, so I would walk in and play. No one ever told me to stop, so I guess that means that I had permission. Or at least that it sounded good enough that no one minded.
Out in the real world, there aren't pianos sitting everywhere, so I have weathered a music drought for the past three years. But, when I moved two months ago, my in laws gave me their old piano. It's a little out of tune and has it's share of scuffs and scratches, but it sure receives a lot of love. My home and my life are now filled with music. I love hearing my husband play, and I cherish the times that I sit down to play my music.
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