Small things.

So I don't feel 100% good about enjoying college life unless I'm giving something back to the community. Sure, it's cliche, but focusing on myself all the time feels kind of like circular reasoning; I get all tangled up in things that don't matter and end up in a twisted mess with string tightening around my neck.

This semester, I can't continue mentoring disadvantaged youth; I have class right during the two hours I can meet with the kids. Feeling thoroughly selfish for cutting the sixth graders out of my schedule, I scanned the Honors Student Newsletter in search of a new regular service opportunity--and found something incredible. I am now the official Saturday morning pianist for a local rehabilitation clinic. I walked in today, balancing a large stack of sheet music, signed some HIPAA regulations, and sat at the beautiful piano, which is located in the large, sunny dining room just off the entry way. No one was there, but I saw my name and "Piano Concert" on the white board schedule for the day, so I just pulled out the bench and began playing. I opened a book of hymn arrangements, and old people started trickling in until I had a little crowd of wheelchairs around the piano. It was entirely sweet; one elderly man started singing softly as I played "O My Father" and "How Great Thou Art," completely off tune in a whispery voice. A more lively senior citizen painstakingly wheeled himself out of the room only to return with a harmonica, which he showed me proudly before loudly joining my chord progressions. One old woman clapped quietly every time I finished a piece, whispering, "That was beautiful, dear." I picked my way through Les Miserables and Phantom of the Opera along with some movie themes and My Fair Lady, and then played a few contemporary numbers before concluding with Oklahoma's "Oh, What A Beautiful Morning."
And it was.

D&C 64:33