Several years ago, I took part in Bingo therapy when my mom passed away and I needed therapy to fill the void and soothe the grief. I volunteered at an Assisted Living facility every Tuesday night and made many friends and adopted moms. That hour and a half never disappointed.

These days, thanks to my wonderful dad who asked me to do this, I play the piano for an hour after work on Thursday evenings at his apartment complex. Almost no exceptions, I leave work exhausted, and no exceptions, I leave Dad’s place completely filled and renewed.

I am no concert pianist or cocktail bar virtuoso. I am a church pianist with no sheet music. I play what comes to mind, and sometimes it is a jumbled mess of pieces of hymns mixed with fluff music that just flows with my emotions. If I am happy, it sounds happy. If I am feeling melancholy, that is what they get. If I am thinking about Mom, it is some of her favorites or what was sung at her memorial service. If I am reminiscing about growing up in the Friends Church, it is Faith is the Victory and What a Friend We Have in Jesus mixed with He Hideth My Soul and How Firm a Foundation. There is a small group of adopted moms who seem to like the hymns and even quietly sing along. There are a few Catholics who wish I knew some Catholic standards. There is a man who sure wishes I knew more 60’s rock. I sometimes ask for requests, but more often than not, I have to say, “Rats, I don’t know that one.”

I am so grateful my Dad wanted me to come and play when Marilyn the cruise ship musician had to move to a new facility and the lobby had gone quiet.

I am grateful Dad comes to listen to my music and he brings friends. They have become my friends, too.

I am grateful that the instrument in the lobby is my childhood piano. God knew that 40 years later, it would be needed and would be played by the same fingers that spent so many hours of practice on it.

I am grateful that when I need therapy, I have this hour of time each week to unload my thoughts and my stress through my fingers.

I am grateful God gave me the gift of playing by ear, grateful that my brain stores hymns on its hard drive, and grateful that I have not lost all the training Mom and Dad paid for those 14+ years.

And I am grateful for piano tuners.