Had you told me three years that I'd be playing the piano for one the services during Holy Week at the church of my husband's first call, I would have laughed. Three years ago, I didn't have a piano. Three years ago I couldn't play a single hymn. Three years ago, I wasn't able to envision a life without an infant clinging to me.
How things have changed. Last year, my cousins gave us great-grandma's upright piano. A few months ago, I started practicing hymns. Somewhere in all that time, the infant grew up to be a much-less needy preschooler. So I let him sit with someone else during the service, and I played for Good Friday. And I'll play again for Sundays. Maybe once I stop hitting so many wrong notes, I'll even learn to get my feet in the mix and give the organ a go.