The Middle C

On this day in 1928, one of the most beloved magnificent pianists of all time made his appearance in the United States. Contrary to what you may suspect based on my picture, it was not my son. It could have been, had he decided to pursue that career. I am convinced of this, as every mother is who knows greatness and obscurity for their progeny is only a matter of choice. But in this case, the pianist was Vladamir Horowitz. I have a very special place in my heart for Vladamir Horowitz, but not because of his piano playing. I love Horowitz because of his piano, and my son in the picture actually did touch greatness on the Horowitz piano.

My boy Anders was 5 years old, and quite precocious on the piano. He started lessons at age 4, and had already garnered interest in our community with his exceptional talent in music. I used to have to force him to stop practicing, and go outside and play.

One day, we went to his lesson, which was in a Steinway piano showroom, and the parking lot was mobbed. News trucks were there, and reporters were hauling gear out of them.
"What's going on?" I asked Jim, Anders' teacher.
"The Horowitz piano is here," he said.
"Is Horowitz here too?" I said, for even the musical neanderthal that I was, knew that Horowitz was an exceptional pianist.
"No," said Jim, "Horowitz is dead."
"Ah, that would make travel for him difficult....so what is his piano doing here without him?"
"The piano is perhaps the most famous Steinway of all time, and it is on tour."
"The piano is on tour...all by itself?"
"Over there," said Jim, leading us to the sparkling piano roped off in a corner. Then he dropped down on his knee in front of Anders and asked, "Would you like to play it?"
Anders looked at the huge, gleaming piano, and the crowds of people and reporters. He shrugged his shoulders.
"It is perhaps the greatest piano in the world," urged Jim.
"Ok," said Anders.

Jim took his hand and led him to the piano. A few reporters began taping as they saw the small boy being seated on the beautiful piano bench. Jim put a small stool under Anders' feet, which did not reach the floor.
Then Anders began to play. I don't remember any more what he played that momentous day. I wonder if he does. The newsmen rolled their tape while my little boy played the most famous piano of all time, whose keys had once been stroked by the most famous pianist of all time.
When he finished, the crowd clapped and Jim helped him off the seat.
"What did you think?" asked a reporter. We all looked at the little prodigy, anxious to hear his enthusiastic portrayal of this high honor that had been bestowed upon such a small child.
He paused, as he often does before speaking and a hush spread over the crowd. Finally, after much thought, he said, "The middle C is flat."

I sent a note to an art student yesterday and mentioned to her that I felt she had enormous talent, and I suggested she enter a certain contest. She wrote back that she values my critiques in art class, and knows I would never say something that wasn't true to her. She says she takes all my encouragements, and my criticisms to heart. That comment really struck me. One should never ever give false critique, I thought, good or bad.

And I thought of God. I often squirm in church . We have a very godly pastor, who is unashamed of the Gospel or of its often hard truths. I am often chastised in my soul for how little I truly follow and love the Creator of the Universe. I don't love feeling that way, conviction of sin is rarely fun....However, I am certain the Pastor speaks out of heartfelt sincerity, love, and truth. I don't like being told my middle C is flat, but I will never create the music in my soul it was meant to create if that key is out of tune.

Galatians 5:9
⁹ “A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough.”

Psalm 108: 1
¹ My heart, O God, is steadfast;
   I will sing and make music with all my soul.