Be Still, My Heart

We are a few months into piano lessons, and there is a piano in our home now. The piano teacher was excited when I called to tell her a lady at work had a Story & Clark piano she no longer wanted. When I told her she wanted to give it to us she exclaimed, "Be still, my heart!"

That's the funny thing about Madison learning to play the piano. I thought I would be excited about every onward and upward step she takes. I thought my heart would be leaping out of my chest in anticipation of her performances. It doesn't really feel like that. When she was asked to play her recital piece for the school's Spring Fling I was nervous for her. When her eyes got round as they announced her name and I saw her head give the slightest shake left to right and back again, my stomach was absolutely in knots. Watching her cross the floor to center court in front of the packed gymnasium and sit down at the piano, I could barely breathe. I was scared and excited and crazy proud and I wanted to be sure I did not miss a single note. My heart was still. And it ached with pride and love and wonder at her big kid abilities. I may as well tell you that I cried a little. Afterward, with red cheeks, she opted out of her curtsy and walked briskly back to her seat. The first thing she said to me was, "I. Was scared. To Death!" But she was smiling, and so was I. My child is beginning to accomplish things that I never did. She has her own strengths and talents and vulnerabilities. The front row is much more still sometimes than I thought it would be, but it is absolutely breathtaking.