Piano Lessons and Prayer

When Conner was a colicky little baby one of the things he would respond best to was music.  Every night he would fall asleep to our "Celtic Lullabies" CD.  Evenings were his fussiest time and we wore a trail into the carpet in his room, bouncing him back and forth through the moonlight.  His music would calm him when our other attempts failed. 

He was three when we realized that memorizing melodies came effortlessly for him.  We would sing or hum a line from a song and ask him where he had heard it.  If he had seen a movie, heard an add on the radio or heard it in nursery even just once he could almost always tell us where he had learned it.

He would toddle around the house or busily play with bugs in the yard while singing the music that he heard around him. 

His love for music has grown with him.  When his alarm is blaring in the morning, instead of getting out of bed and turning it off he will lie quietly, listening to the words and music,  then those songs become his anthems throughout the morning as he gets ready for school.

So, we waited for the time that Conner would be old enough to take piano lessons.  We imagined the satisfaction that he would get from making music and not long ago, we decided he was ready and put him in lessons.  Soon we learned he loves making music and he loves listening to music but he hates practicing.

Yesterday, when it was time to go to his piano lesson he locked himself in the bathroom.

"Conner, it's time to go!" I hollered as I gathered up his books.

"I'm not going!" His muffled response came from the other side of the closed door.

"Why don't you want to go?"

"He'll ask me to count out loud!  He'll make me name notes and I don't want to play scales!"  He listed his objections with vehemence.

After some persuasion the door was reluctantly opened and a little prodding got him into the car.  I pulled up in front of his teacher's house but when I climbed out, Conner stayed firmly in his seat.  Then he locked all the doors.  I tapped on the window with my finger and pointed to the lock on the door.  I must have my "mother look" perfected because he unlocked the door immediately.  I dragged him up to the door and we went inside.

Conner's teacher was waiting patiently for us.  He watched as we came into his music room.  Our situation must have been pretty obvious because Merrill walked over to Conner and put an encouraging arm around his shoulders.  "Thank you for coming today even though you didn't feel much like it." 

He spoke to Conner about the joy that music can bring, but emphasized that sometimes its work too.  He explained in kind words and loving tones how important it is that we each learn how to work.  His next words were not what I expected.

"Conner, would it be alright if we started our lesson today with a prayer."

In the sweet prayer that he offered, Merrill asked for Conner to feel comfort and peace.  He asked the Spirit to direct him as he instructed Conner.  He thanked Heavenly Father for Conner, expressed love for him and acknowledged the great love that our Heavenly Father has for Conner.  It was a simple and beautiful prayer.

Tears filled my eyes as I listened to Merrill's words.  In praying he had expressed humility and love.  Humility to ask for Heaven's help and to recognise that He knows a better way, and love for my son, a child of God that He loves and is mindful of.  Prayer had taken a negative situation, and in an instant, set the stage for a positive learning experience.

The most valuable lesson taught yesterday in Conner's piano lesson had nothing to do with notes or scales, it had more to do with faith and love.