F sharp minor, A over C sharp, D

Ok...it’s the end of March and I realize that I have not written a thing.

Which is all right, I suppose, given the huge life change I experienced. (For those not in the know...don’t worry...just because I moved to my own apartment doesn’t change the fact that I’m still secretive)

But my moving isn’t the purpose of this blog.

This past Sunday, we shared the Lord’s supper, and the worship team was asked to play something in the background. We didn’t have anything planned (which isn’t different for us) and we waffled between doing a different song, a couple of hymns and then finally settled on playing the three main chords of the preceding song.

I was fine with it, but what they wanted me to play was a string patch. Which, for all intents and purposes, I don’t mind. I’ve been playing keys for quite some time, and it is nothing like the piano. I add atmosphere, and rarely do I get a chance to play anything melodic. Two notes can add a lot to the song, and I will play those notes with all my heart. Less is more, especially considering that every space has been filled with other instruments.

This isn’t a performance, and I am not doing a solo. I’m finding that many pianists who are classically trained have a hard time playing keyboard in a band.

I’m a team player, so I will play those two notes. And more importantly, it isn’t about me.
But there’s this part of me that feels like I’m holding back. Which, isn’t news to many people, but when I’m behind a piano, its the only place that I feel safe enough to express what was going on in my heart, my life. It’s the way I communicate, even if no one is listening.

So, here’s my confession. During that time of reflection and prayer, I decided the best way I could serve was to play the piano. No atmosphere, no two notes, nothing...just playing what my heart felt like. Sure, it was purely selfish, and I will reap the consequences soon. I wasn’t a team player then, and I feel bad. For like half a second.

After all that I went through these past couple months up to that very morning when the finally assault on my heart came darting toward me, I needed to play the piano. I needed to express what I could not in words and fall in love with music again.

Yeah, there were moments that I had to hold back and remember that I had a whole entire band playing that three chord progression. I could not deviate. I could not move on as much as I wanted to. But I didn’t care. There was form to the music, but there was freedom in it.

And that’s the beauty I longed to express to God, to everyone. In midst of all this craziness, I am still free.

I miss the piano.