by Steve Gatena
You stare at the dust motes dancing in the morning sun.
Another Thursday.
Another day exactly like the last.
A gentle hum starts.
A quiet vibration.
A subtle call.
The familiar, distant echo of a beautiful melody.
That’s your soul vibrating with the song it was made to play.
We all have an instrument, a grand piano waiting in the corner of our soul.
Perhaps yours is a canvas, a spoken word, a healing touch.
But life happens.
Responsibilities pile up like sheet music.
Doubts settle in, a fine layer of dust on the keys.
Maybe the world told you your song wasn’t needed, or your hands weren’t quite right.
“Too old,” the voices whisper.
“Too young,” others insist.
“You’ve missed your moment.”
Abraham was 75 when God called him.
Moses was 80 when he stood before Pharaoh.
Jeremiah was a teenager when he became a prophet.
God has never worked on their timeline.
And then, there’s Martha Argerich, an 84-year-old pianist.
She survived cancer, decades of self-doubt, and years of silence.
And she walked back to the piano anyway.
Now she’s still discovering new colors in music she’s played her entire life.
The dust came off the keys.
The music was still there.
The same is true for you.
The fact that even a faint echo of that melody still stirs something within you means the piano God placed in you is not broken.
It hasn’t expired.
It’s simply waiting for your touch.
Here’s your focus for today:
Acknowledge the hum. Write down in one sentence what the quiet pull has been asking you to do. Don’t judge it. Just name it. You can’t play what you won’t acknowledge.
Name the dust. Write down the one doubt or obligation that has kept you from the keys. Name it honestly. Dust only keeps its power in the dark.
Find your first key. Before today ends, take one step. The dust comes off the moment you touch the keys.
Anchor your day in this truth: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” — Jeremiah 1:5
Your piano is still in tune.
Go play your notes.
