I’ve always wondered why Mrs. Smith chose to teach kindergarten as a profession. She never seemed to enjoy it.

Her favourite form of punishment for the smallest misdemeanor was to send a child to stand in the corner — behind the big upright piano. Her victim didn’t have to be a wayward kindergarten pupil. Sometimes it was an older kid, making faces at us through the window. Occasionally Mrs. Smith would forget she had sent someone there. One hapless 7th grade student was forgotten until noon when he timidly spoke up from behind the piano and asked to be allowed to go home for lunch.

One day I was sent to the corner for who-knows-what, and Mrs. Smith forgot I was there. Singing time came, and I was still there. Mrs. Smith sat down at the piano and started playing — and I was absolutely amazed at the HUGE vibrations that filled my entire being. I’d always liked the piano, but never had I dreamed it could be so LOUD!!!

Mrs. Smith was mortified when she realized what she had done. But I am sure that was the day my burning desire to play the piano was born. All the time I was growing up, that desire never left me. When I would babysit in other homes, I would sneak to the piano after the children were asleep and, with my foot on the silencing pedal, I would pick out every tune I could think of — and quit abruptly in self-consciousness if anyone caught me.

In second grade I overheard a girl griping to her friend about having to go to her piano lesson after school that day — and at that young age, I thought how ironic it was that those who wanted it couldn’t have it, and those who had it didn’t want it.

As a teenager, I had a couple of friends at church who were in the upper levels in piano. They tried to teach me some basics, but at the time it meant nothing. With no background in music, there was nowhere in my brain to stick the knowledge they gave me. As far as I was concerned, the piano was a great mystery and would remain so. And it made me very sad.

When I was 20, I took a summer job in Toronto. I was ecstatic to find that the young single mom I stayed with, had a piano!!! Across the road was a tiny music shop, where I spent part of my first pay cheque on a set of children’s piano books by Edna Mae Burnham. It took me two weeks to get through the three books, and I was looking for more. And more… and more!

Eight years passed. I stayed in Toronto, and scraped together the money for a few piano lessons. Attended the huge Peoples Church, sang in the 100-voice choir, and thoroughly enjoyed their various bands and small orchestra. Spent one year at Ontario Bible College, where my musical aspirations were nurtured by all the music around me. Rented a practice room at the school, and continued practising consistently. Practised on a church piano every week before choir practice. Spent one winter practising in a another church basement where they turned the heat ‘way down except during meetings. Have you ever tried to play the piano with frozen fingers, while wearing a heavy winter coat??

Marriage to my first husband brought my progress on the piano to a halt, because we moved to Kormak, a tiny lumbering community in northern Ontario, where there were no pianos.

While at The Peoples Church in Toronto, I met a young lady who played the piano by ear. I asked her how she did it, and she said she didn’t know… that she just “knew” what notes to play. Well, that wasn’t much help. Soon afterwards, I was given a soprano recorder, made of cherry wood. I learned the fingering, and then discovered to my surprise and joy that I could play it by ear! Like my pianist friend, I just “knew” what note to play next. I can’t explain it any better than she could. I bought myself an alto recorder after that, also made of cherry wood. Its tone was richer and more mellow, far more pleasurable to play than the soprano, which was shrill by comparison.

To play the recorder by ear was a breakthrough for me. If I could do that, I could play the piano by ear as well, right? But it was slow going, and I made very little progress.

My first husband died in July ’78, and that fall I travelled 2400 miles across the country to attend Prairie Bible Institute in Alberta. Two more breakthroughs… I learned about chords and their progressions… and how to use broken chords in any song I knew. Some simple experimenting soon led to the discovery of my ability to “know” what chord should come next.

I took piano lessons my first year at Prairie. But only for the first year. I made the mistake of listening to a trusted and respected friend, who had been in Gr. 10 Royal Conservatory piano before she abandoned it. She advised me against striving for my goal of becoming a concert pianist, or at least a piano teacher. She said I was too old, having started lessons as an adult, and I would have the flexibility in my fingers necessary for getting anywhere in classical piano. She said the best I could hope for was to learn to play for my own pleasure.

She was wrong; I know that now. But I took her advice and signed up for an easier instrument the following year — the clarinet. It was interesting learning to play it, but it was also a waste of time, because the piano was my real passion. I continued to find a piano at every opportunity, and play for hours at a time.

During that entire eight years, from age 20 to 28, I’d had only about 24 months worth of lessons. I’d reached Gr. V Royal Conservatory, but my real love was playing by ear.

Early in our marriage, Ian bought me a beautiful, old (1904) burled walnut upright piano. For the first time, I had my own piano, in my own home! In no time I was back at it again, easily spending two or three hours at a time. Although I always started with technique and classical pieces, it was so much more enjoyable to close the books and open the hymnbook and play by ear, with my own dynamics.

In 1987, we were called to pastor a small church near Edmonton. I begged Ian not to let anyone know that I played the piano, but somehow they already knew I could play, and expected me to take over that role, as pastor’s wife. I was terrified, but couldn’t very well decline, since no one else in the church could play at all.

That first Sunday, there were only four hymns I could play in keys that weren’t too high or low for congregational singing. Each week I would learn to play at least two new hymns, and slowly built up my repertoire that way. I learned to play in more keys, and never to stop or backtrack if I lost my place. I learned to play an intro for each hymn so the people would know when to start singing. By the end of our three years there, I was able to play well over 200 hymns and many choruses as well. I loved what I was doing, and seldom missed practising, even as the babies kept coming and I homeschooled our children.

In 1995 we began attending a church where it was “wrong” to use instruments in worship, or sing from anything except the Scottish Psalter of 1650. All desire to play the piano came to a numbing, deadening halt. The sad truth is, I squelched it because I listened to those church leaders instead of listening to my own heart.

I’m not part of that church any more, but I never did start playing the piano again. Until May 2018, when I acquired an electronic keyboard — and two months later became our church pianist. I was amazed to discover that my passion for the piano was not dead, but simply gone for a while… and God has given it back to me for the time being. For how long, I don’t know, but I will continue to use it for His honour and glory for as long as He asks me to.