Of grace, growth, and the piano that was almost mine

Well, my plan was that I was going to post pictures today me sitting at the newest arrival to my house: a beautiful circa-1900 Story & Clark oak upright piano. But unfortunately, it never got here.

Of course, there is a story behind this.

It all started innocently enough last week, with an email. Allis alerted me to the presence of a piano on the free part of Craig’s List. The advertisement basically said, if you can get it out of here, its yours. I’ve wanted a piano so badly, especially since being home and remembering how to improvise, and I thought this could be a great opportunity. Unfortunately, by the time I emailed, someone else had claimed it, but I was next on the list. I thought, oh well, and figured if it was God’s will, the person before me wouldn’t pick it up.

Well, I received an email early Friday morning. The original people didn’t come get it, could I do it this weekend?

I shot into a frenzy, trying to organize a truck and four guys to move the piano sometime on Saturday. Due to the graciousness of my friends, I was able to assemble a group and planned to pick up the piano on Saturday.

Everything seemed to be going well, and I was so excited about getting a piano of my very own, I could hardly believe it. And in the end, I didn’t, really. I hardly slept on Friday night between excitement and knowing something had to go wrong. Sarah dismissed my thoughts the next morning. “You have the guys and the truck – what could possibly go wrong?”

What indeed?

I went out hiking Saturday morning, and got back with just enough time to pick up the furniture dolly from Christina and meet up with Chris, Paul, and Josh. Josh is a friend of Paul’s who was hanging out with him on Saturday and randomly decided he wanted to help me move my piano. I was very glad to have another set of hands in the process and thought it especially kind of someone who didn’t know me at all.

We headed out to Oakton, just shy of a half-hour drive from my townhouse. After some uncertainty, we found the house and entered in to find the piano. According to the owner, it hadn’t been played since her son left the house – apparently some decades ago. She insisted I sit down and play. The keys were smooth and resilient under my fingers – in beautiful shape for a century-old piano. The strings were in good shape. It wasn’t even that out of tune. It was big, but it was gorgeous, and I was enthralled.

Until we tried to move it.

The last estimate put the weight of the solid-oak piece around 1000 pounds. Why they would make a 1000 pound piano back at the turn-of-the-century when I’m sure it was a lot harder to move things, I do not know. The point was, the most the piano could be lifted off the ground was about 3 inches – enough to get on the dolly, but a far cry from getting it on the truck – or off, for that matter.

We conferred, we thought, we pondered and schemed for an hour. (Meanwhile, I am making Paul and Josh late for a party they’re going to, but they are insisting that we’re going to figure this out.) We call the local UHauls; all their trailers and ramps are rented. The piano owner is getting nervous and worried about cooking dinner. The end of the matter was simply this: I needed professional help. (Most of us knew that already, but I’m speaking in relation to the piano…)

I received information from the lady about some piano movers from who she got quotes. So I’m looking at a couple hundred dollars to get this monolith moved to my place. But considering the quality and condition of the piano, and the backs of my faithful volunteers, I figured, it’s worth it.

I came back slightly defeated, but optimistic that it would still get done. I scoped out the area around my complex to see the best entrance for the movers to bring the instrument. There aren’t a whole lot of options save stairs – and quite a few of them. Considering the bulkiness of the piano, I became increasingly concerned. Was this feasible, even for professionals? I called and reserved a moving time anyway. I wanted the piano.

But the breaking point came earlier today, courtesy of Felicity’s architectural insight. For those of you who have not been to my place, you should know that it IS nice, but it is an older complex, and our two stories are over a one-floor apartment. Felicity brought up the point that a piano that was unable to be moved by four guys and a furniture dolly may after some time (or not that long at all) very well stress the floor and make it give way. To be honest, I’d thought of it before; I just didn’t dwell on it because I wanted it to work. I went down to the rental office to ask, and they weren’t sure but said that maintenance would need to know the weight, etc.

Walking back from the office, I put the pieces together. A couple hundred dollars to move the piano, plus a tuning. When I move eventually, it would pose a similar hassle – even if I was giving it away, like these folks were. And if it DID fall through the floor… well… that would be a mess, to put it lightly. It wasn’t going to work.

I’m a bit sad. I wanted a piano, and this was a striking instrument and a wonderful opportunity. I dreamed of writing music again, of brushing up on my sight reading and playing carols at Christmastime. But it was not meant to be.

I’m sort of glad all this happened, though, even if it is a hope deferred. Because I did learn an important lesson, standing outside the house in Oakton and listening to Josh – someone I don’t even know – talking about how this was an opportunity to accept grace. It may sound a bit corny in the retelling, but it meant a lot at the time. Especially considering that I’d dragged these poor guys out here and made some late for their evening plans. But in the end, they assured me it was not for nothing. At least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering, “I wonder if I could have gotten that piano somehow…” I am blessed to know that there were people who cared enough to be there in the first place. And it was an opportunity to accept grace, which is an essential part of leaning to give it. I trust that this, too, happened for a reason in the scheme of eternity that I may never understand, but it is well.

And though I think Josh thought I was freaking out, if I may say so myself, I was able to handle myself decently well. I was disappointed, but I didn’t get worked up and emotional like I usually do in such a situation. Maybe I am growing up and turning into an adult after all. Maybe this is part of the strength we’re supposed to find “day by day and with each passing moment.” Even for something as silly as wanting a piano. But it is well.