Last Sunday, we spent a lovely afternoon at a piano recital. The recital was not for our child, but for one of our friends' child. If you have ever been to a children's piano recital, you may be chuckling, but we attended for several reasons. A) We love both of this couples' kids as if I had birthed them myself, B) We have supported the musical endeavors of the young pianist's older sister, and C) It was going to be a good time to go watch the, ahem, expansive range of talent out there.
Said young pianist was brilliant. She was third from last, which meant she was clearly one of the more advanced players. No kidding, the kid after her played "Dancing on the Berlin Wall" by David Lanz. All in all, it was a pleasant way to spend an hour or so on a Sunday.
Not on the program was the piano teacher's grandson, who made a surprise appearance (in a "Bite Me" t-shirt and a scowl, by the way). He sat down and began playing "100 years" by Five for Fighting. Now, as cliche as this seems, this song always and without fail makes me cry. During my pregnancy, a credit card company had a commercial set to the song and I damn near barfed every time it came on. (Seriously. Watch it. If you are hormonal - watch out!) It just sums up how little time we have here (I KNOW. I acknowledged it was cliche, OK?). Couple that commercial with pregnancy hormones and, well, it wasn't pretty.
Here's the thing. Those of you follow me know that I have been having some difficulties with The Boy lately. He is at an age where, quite frankly, I want to knock his ever-lovin' block off at least once a day (you know the phrase "and twice on Sundays"? It applies here.). I have been praying about this. A LOT. I have tried all manner of prayer requests, from "Lord, please grant me the strength and kindness to be a good Mommy to Jack" to "Lord God, please do not let me kill this boy right now. We will renegotiate after nap time."
Cliche or not, when the Young Disgruntled Boy started to play that song, it sounded like a message straight from God (maybe because the recital was held in a church, I dunno). I started thinking (with no offense to our friends or their daughter intended) why else would I be sitting in a church listening to this slacker with the inappropriate t-shirt play piano? I was supposed to be sitting here, thanks to our friends, getting this message.
I honestly felt as if I was being reminded of the emotion this song stirs in me - how little time we all have here - and being asked how I want to spend that. Do I want to spend it in a rage over the door closing for the millionth time today? Do I want to spend it trying to win inconsequential battles with a three-year-old? No, I do not.
This song has literally become my anthem. Every time I start to get frustrated with J., I turn on the tape in my head and Five for Fighting is telling me that's he's only going to be three for a moment. A musical version of "This too shall pass."