Vitamin Learn

"All right, Summer. That was okay. Let's play this line again." I lean in to the piano, brushing my twelve-year-old's shoulder as I demonstrate the correct timing.

Summer sighs. I can practically feel her eye-roll from behind. Frustration oozes through her limp fingers, barely able to lift themselves to the height of the piano keys. She plunks through the specified line, woodenly and with no improvement, then stares at me, stoop-shouldered, blank-eyed. Are we done yet? every line of her posture implies.

Now it's my turn to sigh. "Well," I say carefully, "why don't you let me know when you're ready to learn? We'll come back to this later in the week, okay? For now, though, I think we're through."

I turn and begin moving my piano lesson chair back to its usual place in the living room, but not before I catch of glimpse of my girl. Her eyebrows shoot up. Her eyes widen into pools of shocked innocence. "What do you mean?' she asks, her voice high. "What did I do?"

I turn from re-situating the chair. "It's like this," I begin. "You can practice piano just because I ask you, or you can do it because you want to improve. You can value my input as your teacher. You can take my ideas to heart. That's called being a good student, a good learner And that comes from in here." I pat my chest. "You can't fake it."

Summer remains silent.

"Good lesson," I say after a short pause. "Go ahead and clean up your books before breakfast." Mechanically, I walk to the kitchen, already anticipating my own thought police. Was it really good ? My critical self demands. Summer hardly learned anything! 

No. I firm my jaw. She may not be learning piano, but there's far more than piano to absorb. Mentally, I remind myself of all the disciplines my children despise. Diagramming sentences. Checking in before making judgment calls about coursework. Performing "useless" tasks while they're at school. Family chores. None of these activities, from Algebra to push-ups in PE, are a waste.

I nod to myself as I carry loaded plates to the table. Sure, it'd be lovely if Minecraft supplied my boys with inner strength. It'd be fantastic if stringing beads provided Summer perseverance through unexpected pain. And maybe they could ... who's to say? Still, more often than not, God uses our least favorite tasks to teach us His ways. He builds our character, brick by brick, from the very things we most hate.

I glance at the colorful, nutritious meal spread out for my family. The scene makes me smile. After what feels like several lifetimes of loathing my own mundane tasks, I can testify to God's transforming power, firsthand. The things that once felt like shackles have become precious gifts -- avenues to give and receive boundless grace.

It'll be fine. I chuck my inner pessimist on the chin. You'll see. Joyfully, I envision my children as God sees them - both now, and in the future. Not as virtuoso pianists. Not as superior scholars or successful business-people or even well-known figures in their world. Bur rather, as well-known to Him. As His friends. That is why I am confident that piano lessons, Algebra, accountability, and evening household chores can be saved. They'll never be useless as long as they're tools for God's transforming grace.

Don't give up, I tell myself silently, sending it out like a prayer for my children, as well. Keep the faith. With a profound sense of gratitude, I call them to the meal I've actually enjoyed getting up early to prepare. If God can change this about me, then His canvas and abilities know no bounds. What will He use to grow each of us next? I am eager, now, to find out.