Most of us have heard, “If life hands you lemons, make lemonade” as a solution for tackling a tough situation and creating something redeemable. May I share an incident that recently happened to me—a “lemon” situation? (I think I heard you say, “Yes.”)
I was
playing special music in church along with my husband on nyckelharpa. I’d
practiced my part and had it down pat in my mind. So, no worries. I placed my
fingers where they belonged, but lo and behold—a line or so into the hymn my
violin produced a dissonant sound.
My eyes
shot open, and I winced as I attempted to correct my error which didn’t correct
at all. I stopped playing and said to my husband, “Something’s wrong.”
He whispered,
“Just keep playing.”
(Note:
This happened while I’m standing in front of the congregation with
the service being broadcasted live.)
So, I
did, only to stop again when the same spot in the hymn produced the same
dissonant tone!
Now, let
me tell you. When we learned to play instruments many years ago, we were taught
to keep going, even if we made an error. Carry on!
But I
was totally thrown by what happened!
Maybe it
was lack of sleep, maybe brain freeze—I don’t know, but I almost cried telling
my husband, “I don’t know what to do.”
He grabbed
a hymnbook, opened it to the page where this particular hymn was, and handed
it to me. “Use the book.”
I tucked
my violin under my chin again and played, but the same problem occurred. I was
beside myself!
I
apologized to the congregation and turned to our pastor. “I’m sorry. I don’t
know what’s wrong. I practiced, but I don’t know what to do.”
Frustrated
and so embarrassed, I set my violin on the front pew and took my seat.
It
wasn’t until several minutes later a thought popped into my head. Sarah, you
stupid girl. (Yes, I thought “stupid” on a Sunday!)
Your
string popped! Such a simple diagnosis, but I’d been
clueless until it was too late. And now all I wanted to do? Cry.
Our son
carried my instrument into the house when we got home. “Where do you want me to
put your violin?” he asked.
“In the
corner where bad violins belong!” I huffed.
And
there my lovely couldn’t-help-it violin stood quietly serving its sentence.
Later
that week, I opened my violin case to assess the situation, and another string
broke. I was well past tears now and laughed as I shared with my hubby, “Ya
know, if I’d just realized the problem, I could’ve played on a different string
or in another key.”
So, I
made up with my violin and instead ordered it a new set of strings. (So
what if we can’t afford groceries this week! At least the violin’s happy! And,
PETA, the strings are synthetic!)
I also decided
I needed to “get back on the horse.” Ya know, that old expression: “If you fall
off, get back on,” they tell people who ride. (Of course, my
horse is tailless because some luthier’s used it to rehair stringed-instrument bows.) I
would practice and make sure I played another Sunday.
This is
a simple example of something that should have been lovely and a blessing (I
hope)
instead being a lemon not-yet-turned lemonade. And, although it happened and I failed
to rescue the moment, it was not life-shattering.
Sometimes
things just go wrong. But sometimes those events can turn for the better.
The
following story is not mine, but I thought it a great example of someone who,
one might say, was handed “lemons” through contracting polio as a child—Itzhak
Perlman—famed violinist. But did that stop him? I shall let the online teller
fill you in:
“One of the
most famous anecdotes about Itzhak Perlman happened during a concert in New
York. Perlman, who had polio as a child and walks with difficulty using
crutches, made his way slowly to his seat on stage, sat down, and began
playing. But early in the performance, one of the strings on his violin snapped
with a loud twang.
The audience
held its breath, expecting him to stop and replace the string.
But instead,
Perlman simply closed his eyes for a moment, then signaled the conductor to
continue. He proceeded to play the entire piece on just three strings,
reworking the fingerings and shifting positions on the fly.
When he
finished, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
Perlman smiled
and reportedly said, “Sometimes, it is the artist’s task to find out how much
music you can still make with what you have left.”
The story has
become legendary—not just for its humor but for its deep message about
resilience and artistry.”
And may
you now enjoy listening to a very special piece played by the virtuoso himself!
Hatikva ~ National Anthem of Israel,
played here by Itzhak Perlman
Life may
“rob” you at times, but here’s a question for you: What will you do with the remainders?
If
you’re one who’s put your faith and trust in God, you may have already
experienced Him using the leftover pieces of whatever was broken and making
something amazing from it. He is the Master of such!
In
moments like those, you’ll discover you can still make music “with what you
have left.” Then you can present your “symphony” to God with thanksgiving.
There’s a New Song in My Heart by John W. Peterson
&
Life Is a Symphony by Beatrice (“Bea”)
Bush Bixler
(“Bea” happened to be a friend of my
violin teacher & his wife)
There's
A New Song In My Heart / Life Is A Symphony (Medley) - YouTube
#violin #violinstrings #lifesymphony #usewhatyouhaveleft #ItzhakPerlman #polio #music #brokenness #hope #Hatikva
Disclaimer:
No lemons,
violins, horses, or cats were harmed in the evolution of this post. (Smile.) Just
my feelings!
Internet Account Credit: Possibly originated with
Pamela Hovland, published 2001 Houston Chronicle in a fancier form, printed in
yet another form in Rabbi Wayne Dosick’s When Life Hurts: A Personal Journey
from Adversity to Renewal, 1999. Because this account has been passed to
many sources, I cannot verify its accuracy, although it is totally plausible the
virtuoso played with what was left since this is a way of life for him.
Photo Credit: violin scene—pixabay.com, Itzhak Perlman—news.cgtn.com
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