The Chocolate Eyed Piano Man

A Piano and A Young Man

It was an average Sunday morning; early fall with the Tennessee sun still unforgiving. It had been ridiculously warm all throughout the room. The church's air conditioner had stopped working like so many times before, and even I, freezing cold almost every minute of my life, was tempted to fan myself with the church bulletin like so many of the elder generation had already taken it upon themselves to do. As the worship leader closed out the last song, finally relieving the sweaty congregation from their feet, he exclaimed proudly that there would be special music. I had always looked forward to these days and all the great singers who would come up and praise God with their angelic voices. Today though was very different.

A young man who carried himself well, strode up to the piano with what seemed great confidence. He took his seat gracefully and placed his long fingers upon the keys. Then the music played.

Everything about his movements, the slight drop of his dark head to the flickering of his chocolate eyes, was graceful. His hands moved swiftly and delicately across the keys, creating the most wonderful tune.

I had never heard the song before and to this day I cannot remember what he played, but I knew he had an unseen passion. Though his passion was covered up through his imperceptible nervousness. It was almost unnoticeable, but I can still remember seeing the tension in his shoulders and the the small wince he gave the two times he slipped up and hit an incorrect key. I guess through all of this what really drew me to him was the way he went on. Even through his nerves and slight insecurity he played like he had been born for it.

I didn't know his name then, but every part of me some how new that God meant for us to meet. We would meet officially one day, and until then I would wonder from afar about the mystery that was this chocolate eyed piano man.