Tumped PIANO
Sinking Fork Memories. Dr. Gary Straub. Meadow@StMatthews. Summer of ‘74
Cerulean, Kentucky is home to Sinking Fork Christian Church; so named for the creek which sinks at the schoolyard and forks toward the church house. I enjoyed serving this sweet-spirited, two-clan congregation while finishing my doctorate at Nashville’s Vanderbilt Divinity School. I was their first-ever resident pastor.
The “rented parsonage” was a bungalow belonging to two church kids whose mom was killed around Christmastime in a wreck. Penny and Mark were instantly orphaned. They left most of their stuff and moved in with their grandparents down the road. All was hunky-dory until Penny’s old upright piano just always seemed to be in our way. Church agreed to move it, and six stout deacons wrestled that musical monstrosity up into Doug’s pickup and were fixing to tote it over to the grandparents cabin as I rustled up some rope and was busy tying off. Deacons held a quick meeting and decided: “preacher, we don’t need no rope; that piano ain’t going no where, no how.” Out voted, I hopped in the cab as everyone piled in back to “steady the load”…. till we turned off the Pennyrile Road toward granny’s house… whereupon the piano took a notion… and tumped out over the side, smack dab on its head. Oops— smithereens!
Piano wires were still boinging as we scooped up the wreckage. The deacons kept a long lament going while kicking piano parts into a pile. “WOW, guys it sure is broke.” Then they dummied up on me, deciding unanimously: “preacher needs to do the talking.”
Ever tell a sweet little heartbroken teenager that the only thing left from her momma’s death has just tumped over and been killed in a one truck accident? Penny’s Grandpa, a farmer of few words, told those deacs: “pile it all up in my pickup, boys.” Word got out quickly at Cerulean Country Store. Those deacons felt like dawgs—even told on their own selves; which probably saved the elders from firing me. As the preacher I felt even worse. Just imagine: how would YOU like to stand in the pulpit that Sunday? Felt more like a funeral. Folks flat skedaddled after the benediction. Youth Group was cancelled, so I crawled home to our spacious living room…. sans piano… for all that ‘extra room’ mattered now. Lord have mercy! Elders took a dim view & a collection; carried it to Penney and prayed. We were all grieving Penny’s mom all over again. The church mood settled into cerulean—a deep, dark heavy blue. Gonna be a long hard Lent!
Two mornings a week I sat in my church study, waiting for the new phone that CWF installed to ring. First call? Hang-up! Second was Penny’s gramps, summoning me to ‘come by after school.’ I got greeted at the back door and heard Penny playing PIANO in the living room. Grampa carried that junk pile of wires and splinters to a piano man; a Restorer in Cadiz, over by Lake Barkley. Penny hugged me hard and forgave me for killing her mother’s piano. I never knew the true ‘resonance of redemption’ til I heard it played on Penny’s piano. Old gospel song ‘Rescue the Perishing’: “Chords that were broken will vibrate once more!” Beyond our poor power to fix anything, Jesus generous grace comes into play. God brought back together what belonged together but was apart.
Wish I knew some nifty saint who might offer us a nifty benediction. Sometimes in my hushed heart, I can still hear Penny’s piano; the sweet sound of God’s power to reconcile, heal and bless. Kinda brings to mind Ps 130:5 “For with the Lord, there is GREAT power to redeem.”