Thursday, July 20, 2017

Lessons

July 20, 2017

The rain didn’t come today. “Between three and five” was the forecast; it was overcast, looking as if the skies would open up, but no rain. I think one of the qualifications for being a weatherman is having to fail a lie detector test. They are hardly to be blamed however; after all, the only fully accurate way to make such predictions is after the fact, like Charlie Brown’s bullseyes. He shot the arrows first, then drew in the targets. Just a few miles north of us, a tornado touched down. Since the weather stations are in Buffalo, I guess they didn’t completely miss their target. 

Anticipating the rain that wasn’t, instead of strapping my bass to my sidecar, I loaded it into Linda’s car and headed to my music lesson. It feels a bit strange being taught by someone not much older than my eldest grandchild, but there’s no question who is the master of this instrument. Every so often, Kieran asks if he can show me something on my bass, then demonstrates why he is the professor. It gives me hope; at least I know how the instrument CAN sound! One of the signs of a master is his ability to see what I’m doing wrong and show me how to do it right. Then it’s up to me to practice, practice, practice, till I can get it right…repeatedly.

Today he encouraged me to slow everything down. “Everyone wants to play it fast, but if you take your time and learn how to make it sound good when you’re going slowly, you’ll eventually get to do it fast, and it will sound good.” Kieran is good with analogies, but before he dives into one, he gets apologetic, thinking he’ll offend me. I’ve been a pastor for forty years; it takes more than analogy and correction to get under my skin. You don’t survive in this business with thin skin. Today he asked if I didn’t teach my grandkids anything. 

“I’ve taught a couple of them how to drive our old 8N tractor,” I replied. “Standard transmission and clutch.”

“Did you start them out in fourth gear?” He asked, knowing the answer. “You started slowly, on flat ground, with no implements, and had them do it over and over again. That’s how you learn the bass. Don’t just practice till you get it right; keep going till you can’t get it wrong.”


Life is like that, too. After Gemma’s soccer game this evening, we invited her and her parents over for ice cream. Sitting at the table, we were talking about raising kids in a technological world. Linda commented that she is glad she’s not raising kids now. I’m sure our parents said the same thing a few years back. But learning life is like learning an instrument. You start with a good instructor who knows how to set the right example. Then you just keep at it. There’s no guarantees, but when you start with a husband and wife who love Christ and each other, who are faithful and disciplined, and who take the time to teach by word and example, you’re halfway there. After that, it’s a matter of practice. I’m grateful tonight for the music lessons that are really life lessons, and for children who are teaching those lessons to our grandchildren.

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