I haven’t posted anything in a while because I’ve been pretty wrapped up with other things. However, just so you know I am still alive I decided to post a little poem I wrote a while back. I wrote this when I was studying about how God can use us even when we think we are incapable of being used. When He does, who gets the glory?
The Little Piano
Two pianos lived for many years
Within a concert hall
One was big and beautiful and grand.
The other was very small.
The small piano was always kept
Hidden because of its age.
It was only used for practicing
The big one took center stage.
Each night the curtain opened
And the grand piano looked so gay
When the master bowed low to the onlookers,
And then sat down to play.
As the melody rang out across the hall,
The little piano felt so bad.
Because it could never sound like that
At least it never had.
It was not grand like the other one,
It was just an old upright.
It had no shiny black finish,
It really was quite a sight.
Then one evening tragedy hit
When in the middle of a song
The grand piano broke a string
And it sounded very wrong.
The master, with his wisdom great,
Stood up and with a grin,
Said, “Who needs this worthless piece of junk,
Bring me the old one in.”
The old upright felt quite the shock
As it rolled onto the stage
“Could this really be happening
To a piano of my great age?”
“I have no skill to play the songs
That the grand piano did so well,
As soon as I will start to play,
The folks are sure to tell.”
Then every jaw dropped in surprise
As the master played a measure
The beautiful music that echoed around
Brought to each ear a wonderful pleasure.
The master taught a lesson to all
And the little piano learned it that day
It’s not your looks or skill that matters,
You just have to be willing to play.
The skill you have is not your own
It doesn’t matter what you know
Someone else deserves the glory
When you’re handled by a pro.