Looking up from my piano, still playing at an early-intermediate level after a year of daily stabbing at it, I notice a picture on my Frameo. It shows me, sitting on the couch behind the piano bench I’m now sitting on, teaching my son, Micah, how to play the recorder. He was learning it for his Fourth Grade music class. Neither of us became proficient—never played a paying gig (didn’t play for any audience), didn’t cut an album or perfect anything worth recording. The echos of our recorder playing, though, still reverberate in our memories—in mine, in Micah’s (though he was killed in a car accident three years ago), and in God’s.

“Praise be to the Highest!!!”, the plaque fixed to my piano music stand reads. My wife and I put it there, after buying our piano a year ago; we still aren’t accomplished, haven’t played a gig or cut an album. We purchased it used on the second anniversary of our son’s passing, supposing that learning to play piano is a healthy way of grieving with thanksgiving. Micah wrote that laud, “Praise be to the Highest!!!”, in his testimony of God’s radically transforming him.

My wife and I read Micah’s testimony for the first time, sitting on that same couch I taught Micah to play recorder on. It was late afternoon, days before his funeral, after receiving Micah’s effects. The echos of our sobs and joyous laughter mixed in our living room, with those of our recorder duet from a couple decades earlier.

Don’t disparage your musical abilities or progress, or bemoan any lack of recognition—that’s the devil’s job! So what if you still aren’t accomplished, haven’t played a gig or cut an album. The echos you create reverberate in your home, in you, and in others. Playing for the King of Kings beats Carnegie any night. “Praise be to the Highest!!!”

Looking forward to praising our Lord and Savior with you, Micah, some day relatively soon.

Miss You,

Dad