The weighted ivory keys beckoned me closer. Accepting their invitation, I drew out the piano bench, arranged my sheet music, and arched my fingers slightly. As the first notes of Beethoven’s Für Elise lingered in the air, I was transported from the parlor to a place of soul that didn’t exist before I began piano lessons. Let it be known — I am far from a piano prodigy.
I sat on my bed in the attic of the little house in Nashville, wrestling with the reality that a lifelong dream was coming to an end. In the morning, I would be loading up the car to drive back home to Canada. Three months earlier, I had arrived in the city of my dreams with hopes to cut a record in the Christian music industry.
Growing up with a mom who has more creativity in the tip of her little finger than most people have in their whole body, meant an early and constant exposure to all things “artsy.” Oil pastels, watercolor, decoupage, silk painting, chalk drawings, pencil sketches, furniture refinishing, batik...you name it, she’s done it.