A good friend sent it to me by email and headed the message DO NOT DELETE, RETURN IF YOU CAN'T FORWARD in the subject line. Initially I thought it was just another one of those If-you-don't-forward-me-you'll-be-doomed-forever messages and I nearly deleted it. On second thoughts I realized though that she is not the type of person to do this kind of thing and I opened the message.
I'm glad I did; what I read went deep, and even though it is a sad story, it is also a story that brings hope and inspiration.
A story that makes you stop in your tracks and ponder your own situation, your own difficulties and the ways in which you tackle them. And perhaps highlights some options you may have to cope with situations that appear desperate and insurmountable.
Nobody ever promised us that life would be easy ~ it's simply up to us to make it the best we can under the circumstances. What we mustn't forget though is never to give up on ourselves and keep the fire burning to strive for better days ahead...
We're living in "interesting times" as the Chinese saying goes; times that will soon be heralding major changes in many aspects of life on earth... people are restless, people are dissatisfied ... people are frightened for their future.
Perhaps sharing this story will help some of us not to despair and give up, but find and unlock the courage and strength within to take the responsibility of life in our own hands and make something of it, no matter how difficult the choices are.
I sincerely hope so...
Here is Robby's story:
This is a true story and it will give you the chills.
This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well worth the read.
At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from DesMoines , Iowa . I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students.
However, I have also had my share of what I call 'musically challenged' pupils - one such pupil being Robby.
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed hisscales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all my students to learn. Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.
I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify. He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.
Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this
special night?' Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No. 21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you playlike that Robby, how did you do it? ' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well ...... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.'
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myselfthen how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy ....... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably wondering which people on your address list aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference! So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice. Do we act with compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in the process?
You now have two choices: 1. Delete this; OR 2. Forward it to the people you care about. You know the choice I made.
Thank you for reading this.
May God Bless you today, tomorrow and always.
If God didn't have a purpose for us, we wouldn't be here!
Leave the rest to God.
There is nothing I can add here that could possibly enrich this story except for one thing:
Mozart's very own Concerto No. 21 in C major
I invite you to tune in, as I say goodnight to you from a turbulent day in the history of Greece and her people...