Saturday, May 23, 2009

Lessons from a pint-size violinist

“Here comes my favorite violin student,” I said as Rebecca came in for her weekly lesson.

“Because I’m your ONLY violin student,” the nine-year-old replied with a big grin. Leaving her pint-size violin on the couch, she headed to the kitchen for a quick after-school snack. Hey, it’s 4:15 p.m. and she just came from school. Need some fuel for brain power!

Since early March, I’ve enjoyed having my first-ever violin student. Though I’ve played violin since age 12, I never considered myself a music teacher. Thus, when her family called in February asking for teacher recommendations, I threw out others’ names.

Explaining they only wanted a two-month run at lessons—this was the gift she really wanted for her ninth birthday—I agreed to it. Just before the two months were up, Rebecca took $10 out of her own piggy bank to help with another month of instrumental rental and asked please, please just another month of lessons.

She’s not your usual beginner for whom music notes are a foreign language. Piano and trumpet already in her background, she jumped several typical lessons by just watching the video that came with her beginner music book.

Working with a beginning violinist has reminded me of several parallels with the Christian walk.

1. You’re special to God. Max Lucado is widely quoted for suggesting, “If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it” (from Prayer: A Heavenly Invitation). Dare I say: If God had a violin student, you’d be His favorite student. You’d be the apple of His eye (Psalm 17:8), His chosen one. Because you are!

2. There’s a learning curve. That first lesson, I explained about the instrument and how to care for it. I quickly sewed her a “shoulder pad” (from my sewing scraps) to help her hold the violin correctly. I modeled how to hold the bow with her right hand and place her left hand on the fingerboard. I warned her against “choking” the violin’s neck in her left-hand position, and made appropriate gasping sounds to reinforce the point. I think back to my baby steps in learning about the Bible, like memorizing the books of the Bible and grasping the basics about the fall of man, Jewish history, and Jesus’ life. I couldn’t have handled the profound meaning of “propitiation” as a young believer any more than Rebecca can do “vibrato” or “seventh position” yet. God teaches us at His good pace.

3. You need to practice. It’s not enough to show up for lessons. Learning to play an instrument has no “auto-pilot” mode where you punch the right buttons and cruise on. It takes training fingers, arms, and ears through repetition. I could tell when a piece I assigned Rebecca turned out to be a favorite. She practiced it more! Spiritual “practice” includes praying and thoughtfully reading the Bible. Eventually, even the “hard” parts will come. (I keep telling myself that as I read through Ezekiel. This morning, working through the “sheep chapter” of Ezekiel 34, I marked all the incredible “I will” promises from God. They cover a lot more about life than even Psalm 23!)

4. Enjoy the process. As soon as Rebecca had enough skills, I wrote out a song that I said would be very useful to learn: “Happy Birthday.” Rebecca grinned and said her sister had a birthday the following month. I practice what I preach! A few weeks ago, my calendar reminded me that an eighty-something friend, who teaches a Bible study at a senior living facility, had a birthday coming up. The day of her study, I toted my violin to the facility. As her study ended, I came in playing the “birthday song.” Surprised her? Absolutely. What fun! One of the great parts of being connected with other Christians is sharing the simple joys of life.

Rebecca’s last lesson with me is May 28. The little violin goes back to the music store and she heads for summer vacation. Will violin emerge ahead of piano or trumpet as a first love? I don’t know. But I applaud her parents for enriching her life with music experiences. And I thank God for bringing her bright, eager face into my life for the last three months.

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