I’m sitting here trying to get some work done while listening to a playlist on Spotify called Peaceful Piano.  Isn’t it amazing how a simple melody from a piano can stir the heart to tears?

Just me…?

I’m transported back to my college years sitting in a practice room where my wife, then girlfriend, would play piano.  She was a music major and I just took choir for the free “A” for my struggling GPA.  It was hard work for her but she was so good.  I remember being blown away the first time I heard her play.  She grew up in Minnesota where summer is in your imagination.  This meant that there was all the time in the world to play the piano as much as her heart desired.  She’d never say it, but her recital, although poorly attended, was flawless and heavenly.  I was so proud of her.

She came to college as a 17-year-old in the Spring semester.  I recall a yellow sweater a couple of rows in front of me in choir practice and my roommate Doug saying, “You should ask the new girl out.”  Our first time hanging out was at a friend’s apartment after a choir concert.  We ate pizza and watched some movie with Billy Zane in it but I can’t remember the name.  All I remember is no one else was laughing except us – I was smitten.

Walking home with my buddy Nate, I remember telling him…

“I’m going to marry the piano player.”  

The word on campus was that she was the only girl in her dorm with a computer.  This was the mid-nineties where such things were a luxury.  Someone also said she could type 130 words a minute without error.  I didn’t know if that was true but it was a good way to get her number.  I didn’t type, or at least forgot how to when I heard how good she was and needed someone to help me type a research paper for English.  She agreed but I failed to tell her about the required MLA formatting.  I was already struggling in that class so taking it over again wasn’t a big deal.

Outside my decision to follow Jesus, asking her for her number was the best decision I’d ever made.  There was then a lull in all good decision-making until the age of 35.  God was looking out for me.

I had nothing to offer her as an 18-year-old kid but moderate charm and a few songs on guitar and she didn’t care about the 7 or 8 band-aids I had on my hands covering the warts.  All I know is I out-punted my coverage.  There were so many other dudes that could’ve had her but for some odd reason she chose me.

We will be married 20 years this July, we have five beautiful children, and sometimes I still get to hear her play the piano.  I could say how lucky I am but I know now that God had prepared us for each other.  I will boast to my dying day that I married the piano player.

5 thoughts on “Lucky

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