Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Music (03/08/07)
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TITLE: Pump and Patience | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ronda Armstrong
03/14/07 -
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“You’ll have to be patient”, she would say. These were not the words I wanted to hear, but I didn’t give up.
Each time I stayed with my grandmother I pleaded, “Can I play the organ now?”
Most of the time she didn’t answer. She just strode over to the organ, with me trailing behind, and started to play. At first, she played while I marveled at her ability to make music by pumping the pedals and moving her fingers on the keys. I longed to do all of it by myself. Finally, before she started, grandma let me help by pulling the stops out or pushing them in. When I could reach the pedals by sitting as far forward as I could on the bench without teetering off, she had me pump the pedals while she played the keys. One day, after my characteristic plea, she played for a bit and then said, “You try.”
I was so excited! Playing the organ was physically demanding and required coordination I didn’t yet have. I made unusual sounds come from the organ. They were mostly moans and groans that went along with my own. “ Grandma, why can’t I play like you?” I wailed.
She’d look at me with a wise look and say, “It takes practice, dear. Lots of it, and patience with yourself. You know, most things take time.” Then she’d say, “Try again.” I started again, and finally, I got the hang of it.
As Grandma grew older she spent more time with my parents and me at our house in the city. Here, she played our piano. Her favorite songs could be heard throughout the house.
Often, she would call for me to come. “Will you sit with me for awhile?” she’d say. Most days I did.
Soon, she’d say, “Why don’t you play?” Before long, I was the one who played and she listened from the easy chair where she sat behind me. Sometimes she hummed along or sang a few words.
She usually asked for hymns. “Play Sweet Hour of Prayer. How about “Wonderful Words of Life?” she’d ask next.
Sometimes she’d say, “That was so good. Play it again, please.”
It became part of our family routine for me to play each night before supper. Or, when we were waiting for company to arrive for a holiday meal. Or, when we were ready early for church or shopping and we had a few minutes to spare. Or, when we wanted a distraction from worry.
What started as my longing to play the magical pump organ expanded to special family times for playing the piano. These musical interludes slowed us down and temporarily removed us from the world of instant gratification, one where all things seemed to be mastered quickly. We savored the melodies and messages from the hymns. They inspired us, uplifted us, and gave us the respite we needed. Now, decades later, when staying power is needed, I remember this crucial lesson from my grandmother: pump and patience.
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