I remember my last piano recital. Octaves are challenging with small hands. It was a marvelous classical piece that ended with both hands flying down the keyboard in octaves. A brief pause and then simultaneously both hands come crashing down on the keyboard in a resounding octave chord. Boom! A piece that left your heart pounding.

As my little hands came flying down the keyboard, over 50 years later, I remember the slight smile, I had done it! I flew to the final chord. Lifted my hands above the keyboard. Poised and set for that amazing final chord. Hands triumphantly struck. Silence.

I missed the keyboard. My hands slapped my thighs. In just a second or two, that felt like eternity, my mind left my body and wondered what the heck. Then, a true trooper, I quickly, and much softer than the composer intended and I had practiced, struck the chord. Hopped up. Bowed. Walked off the stage watching my piano instructor’s gentle but totally bewildered face. Her exact words were, “Fifty two keys. Fifty two keys. How did you manage to not even hit one of them?” She laughed. My reply, holding up my small hands, “I got skill.” I remember her hug, and her repetition of “Fifty two keys.”

Segue… these past few weeks have been horrendous for this area of the country. Tornadoes, tornado sirens, winds, storms, flooding, destruction, and terror have reigned. Huddled in my little shower stall as the storms raged, I have felt fear I haven’t felt in a long long time.

Today, as we have had a rare day of sunshine and clear skies, I mowed my yard. Quietly, the whisper of the piano recital drifted into my mind as I mowed. Music is created by force. A bow, hands, air, mallet or something strikes against an instrument and we have beautiful music. I know negative force too well. As I remembered how I loved to play the piano, I remembered how much I love the force of music. I also love the force of silence that quietens my soul.

So how to reconcile the two? Dunno. It’s a long road to travel to understand and find the calm. I will probably still be terrified to hear the forecasts of more severe storms. My spirit will still shake when I see the images of destruction left by the storms and tornadoes. But maybe, just maybe, I will also remember the force of music. Not all musical pieces are played as intended. The final chord isn’t always what it was meant to be. And maybe that’s the whisper, “Little one, abide in the space between. Abide in the space between the two. No matter the final chord… Live in that space knowing you did it.”