This is a beautiful story and very appropriate for Christmas. Mildred had the privilege of experiencing a priceless gift, but I’ll let Mildred tell it in her own words.
“My name is Mildred Honor from Des Moines, Iowa. I’m a former elementary school music teacher and had been for over thirty years.
Even though I’ve never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. I’ve also had my share of ‘musically challenged’ pupils -11 year old Robby was such a pupil. His mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer students begin at an earlier age, but Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.
At the end of each weekly lesson, he would always say, “My mom’s going to hear me play someday.” But to me, it seemed hopeless. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.
On day, Robby stopped coming for his lessons. I assumed that because of his lack of ability, he had decided to pursue something else.
Several weeks later, I mailed a recital flyer to all the student’s homes. To my surprise, Robby asked if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils, and since he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He told me that his mother had been sick and was unable to bring him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing.
“Please, Miss Honor, I’ve just got to play in the recital.” It was either his insistence or something inside of me that said maybe it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the school gym was packed with parents, relative, and friends. I put Robby last in the program, thinking that any damage he might do, I could salvage his poor performance through my curtain closer. At the end of a near-perfect recital, Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. Why didn’t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?
Robby pulled out the piano bench. I stood wide-eyed when he announced that he would play Mozart’s Concerto No. 21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers danced on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! After six and half minutes, he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause!
I ran up on stage and hugged Robby in uncontainable joy. “I’ve never heard you play like that, Robby! How did you do it?”
“Remember when I told you my mom was sick?” The microphone picked up his young voice. I nodded.
“Well, she had cancer and died this morning. And well, she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play, and I wanted it to be special.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the place, including my own. He gave me a priceless gift that could not have been bought with money, for he taught me the meaning of perseverance and love.
Years later in April, 1995, Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City, but his priceless gift lives on in the memories of those who attended the recital.”
Seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice – do we gift with compassion or do we pass up the opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in the process? God puts people in our lives for a reason, and that each of us is blessed to see the ‘greatness’ in others.
Merry Christmas!