When my mother was seven, she fell and was unable to stand again. She had contracted polio, and her left leg was irreparably damaged and paralyzed. She spent a year homebound, relearning to walk, and was limited in many ways. She could, however, play the piano. Her hands sailed across the keys, and it felt so freeing.
Soon she was able to walk again with the aid of a brace and returned to school. Her peers teased her. Her teachers told her she could not learn like other kids because she was “crippled”. Some told her she would never marry or have children.
In those discouraging times, she poured her heart into her music. Polio had taken her mobility, but the Lord had given her a special talent. She could serve the Lord with gladness as she played, and this reminded her of God’s faithfulness.
Years later, a family visited the church where she served as the pianist, and the eldest son enjoyed the music. After the service, he complimented my grandmother on her daughter’s abilities. My grandma must have seen a spark in his eyes and sent him to compliment the pianist herself. He did. Two years later, they married.
My father would not be the only fellow to fall in love with my mother and her piano playing. Thirty-one years later, her first grandson was born. He has always loved listening to his “Nohnie” play and recently began taking lessons from her. They have a wonderful time together as his precious hands follow hers.
How thankful I am that what could have been a story of despair is instead a legacy of faith. I pray that the Lord will continue to bless her as she passes her gift of music and love for the Lord to my son.