They dropped a crate off the truck onto our driveway. We all heard the discordant scream. Loud and clear.
Our piano.
Wrapped with care, months before, during our year in the USA.
Placed in a wooden crate. Nailed shut.
Loaded into a ship container with the rest of our belongings.
Our crates
Our crates sailed across the Pacific Ocean.
Rocking through storms.
Traveling through varying degrees of heat.
Crossing the equator.
Then, on the dock, the piano crate survived robbery and pillaging that decimated much of our shipment that year (it was in the 1960s, around the time of an attempted coup d’etat and the subsequent upheaval).
Bits and pieces
Most things were stolen. Appliances. Clothing. All of my dolls.
The rest arrived at our house in burlap sacks.
Bits and pieces. A doll’s stocking here. A puzzle piece there.
Books stolen from the shipment were found even years later by friends in a local second-hand market. My parents’ names stamped inside.
Popcorn
Dad’s bags of popcorn kernels, so carefully wrapped, had been slashed open. And scattered everywhere. Including inside an opened container of Mom’s cold cream.
There was no popcorn available in Indonesia at the time.
But sometime in the next year or two, we arrived at the department store to find a popcorn machine going.
And fresh bags of popcorn for sale.
An unexpected and thoroughly-enjoyed treat.
Upright piano
I don’t recall much about the opening and unpacking that took place in the driveway.
Or how they moved the upright Gulbransen piano onto the terrazzo tile floor of our living room in Surabaya.
But I remember sitting on the wooden bench.
Black and white keys under my fingers.
Legs stretched out, trying to reach the pedals.
Piano lessons
Aunt Wilma lived next door to us. And gave me my very first piano lessons.
Later, Mom and Dad found a local music school run by a husband-and-wife team. I went once a week.
And so, it began.
This journey into learning notes. Reading music. Beginning to play by ear.
Feeling the joy of musical expression from my heart through my hands.
Tuning
The Gulbransen’s inner workings suffered in tropical heat and humidity.
Some plastic parts inside warped and had to be replaced with what I imagine were custom-made metal pieces.
Tuning was necessary. A regular occurrence.
And an electric lightbulb served as our dehumidifier inside the casing.
Piano that survived
Today I play a digital piano. No tuning needed. Easily transported in our frequent moves.
But when I see a standard upright, it takes me back to those early days of practicing my scales. Up and down the old Gulbransen keyboard.
Learning classical music and hymns. And eventually playing mostly by ear on the piano that survived a harrowing journey to serve us well.
I’m grateful.
Music that lasts
As followers of Christ, we go through trials and storms.
Sometimes it can feel like we’ve been dropped off a truck.
But our foundation is solid.
And the Lord plays the keys of our lives.
Healing broken pieces.
Tuning discordant notes.
And serving others through us with music that lasts.
Into eternity.
What about you?
Have you been through painful trials? How has God walked with you? How is He using your experiences to encourage others?
Related
Aunt Wilma – Sand between my toes – Rushing past – Keeping a sense of humor – Healing hurts and counting stars – 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 – James 1:2-4 –