Memory Of A Song

I was playing the piano.
I don’t play as often as I would like.
I try to play during the day if I can, particularly this time of year.
This is when the baby grand piano has Christmas music books on it.

I smile when I get the music books out each year.
The books are held together with tape.
The books are elephant-eared.
The books are marked with pen.

The pen marks are from my piano teacher all those years ago.
Yes, some of the books are that old.
Some of the pages have notations like fingering, left hand, or tempo written boldly.
Each of those words bring back so many memories.

Mrs. Harrison, was a British woman that had an accent like Mary Poppins.
I went to her home every Wednesday for many years.
My piano lesson was at 4:00 in the afternoon.
Mrs. Harrison always had a cup of tea nearby, which she sipped daintily.

Mrs. Harrison used to get quite frustrated with me since she wanted my left hand quieter.
That was a problem for me since I am left-handed.
My left hand is my dominant hand.
It has much more strength than my right hand.

Consequently, the melody, which is played with the right hand was softer than the left.
I think she thought I was being a bit ornery at first until she realized it really was a problem.
I would often play songs at the tempo I thought they should be played.
How I thought I could ever improve on the classical composers was beyond me.

Fingering was an albatross for me.
Some fingering just didn’t feel comfortable to my hands.
Needless to say, even though I play fairly well, I do not play conventionally.
Sometimes, I wish that I did.

I sat there playing Christmas songs and remembering.
I remember first learning them and struggling through each one.
Now I play them, after not playing them for an entire year and they come right back.
My fingers go to the correct keys as if I practiced them over and over.

I was playing the Christmas carols I know and love.
I was playing the fun Christmas songs about Christmas trees, presents, home, and family.
I turned the page and saw a song that brought back a flood of memories.
It was a sneak attack; it was a memory that caught me off guard.

Whenever we drove anywhere, my mother always sang.
She had a beautiful voice and if one of her two sisters were with her, there would be harmony.
I was a little girl in the back seat of the car as my mother and aunt were in the front.
There was a song that always made me sad, though I never knew why at the time.

Toyland, toyland
Little girl and boy land
While you dwell within it
You are ever happy there

Childhood’s joy land
Mystic merry toyland
Once you pass its borders
You can ne’er return again

When you’ve grown up, my dears
And are as old as I
You’ll laugh and ponder on the years
That roll so swiftly by, my dears
That roll so swiftly by

Childhood’s joy land
Mystic merry toyland
Once you pass its borders
You can ne’er return again            (Toyland, by Doris Day)

I remember the lilting melody.
I remember falling asleep in the back seat of the car on long trips, listening to that song.
There was a melancholy feeling when that song was heard.
I could not understand how a song about toys could be sad.

Until I grew up.
Until I had children and they grew up.
Until the innocence of the culture as I remember was not so innocent.
Until adulthood crept up like a thief and carried me over the borders of that special land.

I was playing the song on the piano and could not see the notes.
The tears were warm and real.
The feelings were nostalgic and bittersweet.
The meaning has long been understood but never appreciated.

I hear it in the stores all the time.
The complaints, the frustration, the frantic-ness, and the impatience.
Christmas is something to get done, something to get through.
In fact that is the question that is asked most often, Are you done yet?

Done has a plethora of meanings: done shopping, done wrapping, or done baking.
Done is a far away goal that seems impossible to reach.
Done is a list that needs to be checked.
Done is the need to take a deep breath but not having the time.

Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

Once you are still, you can see things clearly.
Once you are still, you get a fresh perspective.
Once you are still, you are able to hear the quiet voice of God whispering to your heart.
Once you are still, you are able to focus on what is important.

The women in my Bible study gave me an unnecessary but much appreciated Christmas gift.
I used part of that gift at a favorite restaurant.
I used part of the gift to purchase something that is now one of our Christmas decorations.
It put the focus that comes with stillness into perspective, perfectly.

It is a sign with one sentence painted on old wood.
Simplify Christmas. Celebrate Christ.
I bought the sign to remind me of all those precious women.
I bought the sign to remind me where my focus should be.

The sign is now in my dining room resting against an old school desk.
Every meal we eat in that room will be graced with those simple words.
Simple words that have profound meaning.
We are not done; Christmas is continually celebrated as we focus on the Incarnation.

God became man.
Jesus was born to die so that we might live.
Jesus did it all and then said, It is finished.
That is the only done that matters.

We can never cross back over the border and enter our childhood again.
However, in our memory, those memories are always there.
Since we as adults know how very fast time flies, let us allow our children to savor every moment.
Christmas is not about getting done; it is about celebrating Christ.