Restoring Elsa

And just like that he was gone. I held Cora in my arms as tears rolled down my face; my mind thinking over and over, "Is this how it really ends?"

Last year I inherited a piano from a woman whose mother had passed away ten years ago. The house she had lived in was being demolished to make room for a newer community and she desired the piano to be passed down to someone who loved music as much as her mother did. Adam, a family friend, had been working on surveying her home and he called me and asked me if I would pick it up.

When I answered the call my parents were in the process of showing me where the "grand piano they had prayed for" would be placed in our new home. I couldn't believe the timing. I quickly accepted the offer and arrived at the house as soon as I could.

I was greeted by our family friend and walked in the old home and saw the still, lifeless piano standing in the window-filled foyer. The woman greeted me with a hug, grateful that this piece of her mother will continue on.

A few days later I sat at the kitchen table looking at the piano. I knew I needed to begin restoring her but I was beginning to feel sick from our recently discovered pregnancy. I went out that night with my mom, Adam, and his wife and told them I had decided to name the piano Elsa, which means "God's Promise."

And from March to November she sat quietly in the corner of my home.

My pregnancy went over great and on October 20th 2013, Cora was welcomed into our world. I brought her home and placed her on the music desk of Elsa and started playing but Elsa wasn't playable.

I called the closest piano tuner to get her appraised. On November 11th, 2013, a sweet, older man named Mike walked into our house and met Elsa. He told me he was a pastor and tuned pianos to make ends meet every month. He heard my story on how the piano came into my possession and did all he possibly could to give me an honest answer.

Elsa needed $4,000 in work done to be playable. Mike showed me a few sites that I could purchase other baby grands already restored, and although they were nice, I couldn't let go of the 100-year old piece standing in my sun-room. She was God's promise: Not only to me~but to those who would enter our home, our family and friends and to those sisters who let her go so freely. Before he left, he tried to offer ways to preserve her, but none of them could restore her. As the door shut, I felt my heart breaking.

After sharing her story with my father, he suggested that maybe this was where I was supposed to hold fast and just start believing...believing that, just as the souls and hearts of those without God can be restored, Elsa can be a physical demonstration of that transformation and restoration that takes place in all of us. I started an online fund and within a week had 10 donations amounting to $2,000. I called Mike back and told him I wanted to start work on her immediately.

He came back the next week and I sat in the rocking chair with my daughter as I watched him diagnose Elsa's repairs a little more. I told him I had $2,000 to give him and would be grateful for that amount of work to be done. He smiled and said, we can get her playable for that. He then instructed Brendon on the work he could do and took out the action (the keys) of Elsa and loaded her up in his truck.

The next few months were filled with fellowship, apprenticeship, and creativity. I decided to paint Elsa and write on her my favorite lyric I've written as a musician; "I am the Nightingale... your dreams are my song." My intention for Elsa would be that she would play the songs of the people I met in life, of the children I teach or simply whatever was going on in my heart. I hired a muralist to paint a caged bird on her face... to remind me every day that freedom is the best inspiration for music.

Inside her body was stained cherry red. I wanted her to look cold from the outside and burst with color from the inside. Mike and his apprentice, Joseph, made their way to our house 4-5 times to restring her, reset her hammers and fix the dampers. They spent all day here when they would come and we shared in stories of restoration, dreams and watched as strangers became friends. One morning, he walked into my house and told me, "Your house is beautiful, but I love the presence that dwells within it."

They would sit in the sunroom at a table they set up and just worked hard on helping make my dream become a reality and on April 30th, 2014 I heard Clair de Lune ring through my house. Elsa was restored. Later that day I also found out that Adam and his wife, who had been trying for kids for 20 years had conceived and were expecting a Christmas baby.

Restoration filled the air. I played on her with Cora on my lap multiple times in the day.

Then one night I noticed my middle C stopped working suddenly and I texted Mike to see if he could come fix it if he was in my area for any other clients. After not hearing from him a few days later I called his apprentice Joseph.

Joseph informed me that on May 3rd, 3 days after Elsa was completely restored, Mike was shot and killed in his garage where he works on the pianos. He was getting ready to help set up a community garage sale when the encounter took place. I thanked Joseph for informing me and told him I would help him keep up his business in any way I could. I then hung up and sat for a while. I held Cora in my arms as tears rolled down my face; my mind thinking over and over, "Is this how it really ends?"

Mike didn't just help restore my piano. Through his kindness and willingness, he helped restore my faith in dreaming. I had been so focused on the dreams and songs of others that I had forgotten what mine sounded like. Mike took what money I had, money given to us from people who also believed in me, and restored my dream. Not a dream of becoming famous or wealthy, but rather being so real that people feel a presence not of this world; a presence worth change and transformation.

So no, Mike's death is not where it ends. Elsa's restoration is not where it ends. This story is all but ending. For you see, I have just begun dreaming...

Thank you Magnus Hjalmarson (Mike) for your encouragement and kindness. 
You will be missed.

Rest in Peace.