What do you do when you don't know what to do?
When you're plagued with uncertainty?
When you're unsure what's next?
When words fail?
After getting married, Grace and I made the trek halfway across the country with our belongings in tow, including, get this:
My Yamaha upright piano.
Here's the crew that graciously helped us maneuver it into our first apartment!
Since the age of 16, whenever I've found myself overcome by the weight of what's been happening around me, this piano has remained a steady place to process. (So much so, we knew it was worth moving with us!)
I asked my daughter the other day how she perceived me as a parent. There was more to it than that, but it was an awkward enough segue into some rich insight.
She said, "Dad, sometimes I can tell when you're stressed."
"Oh yeah? How do you know?" I replied.
She responded, "When you play sad music on the piano."
She's one perceptive 9-year-old. Like I said, I've been processing my feels at this piano for a very long time!
And this is no exception.
After a series of heavy conversations recently (and per the usual encouragement from Grace to more intentionally record some of my own original works on the piano), I decided to sit down to write and record a series of improvised piano pieces in a single take.
Listening back to them, I realized these needed to be shared, so without further ado...
These three pieces are titled:
1. mourning has broken
2. tears that shine like stars
3. together again
They follow the storyline of darkness setting in, but as the night grows darker, the brighter the stars shine. Yet as dark as the night may be, it's never forever, because morning eventually breaks again.
I pray this music comforts you, inspires you, and helps you navigate whatever grief you may find yourself in. And if, as you give it a listen, the name or face of someone you know comes to mind, please share it with them. No one needs to go through the darkness alone.
And as I've so often found to be true:
When words fail, music speaks.
