My friend’s daughter had taken piano lessons throughout her childhood. The weekly lessons were a highlight for them both. After school they would stop by a coffee shop and then take the slow drive to the piano teacher’s house. Her home was warm and tidy, albeit full of a lifetime of memories. She was an older woman who had raised many children and now had great grandchildren. The house seemed to swell with the sounds of laughter and mealtime conversation. The student gleaned so much side by side on the piano bench and my friend would leave refreshed and inspired, having often received some timely wisdom from the piano teacher.

Back in their home the piano had become a statement piece. Year after year the short and elementary notes transformed into fluid and pleasing melodies. Hours at the piano perfected pieces that become the soundtrack for family life. The piano lamp stayed on at night and created a comforting glow. Decor atop the piano came and went: ornaments at Christmas, sweet blooms in the spring. 

But time brings change: friends and athletics began to crowd out practice sessions. During the week the piano sat quiet as my friend’s daughter grew less interested in it. They had a family talk and decided the lessons were no longer worth the investment. Breaking the news to the piano teacher wasn’t easy and she took it even harder than expected. She offered to work in the lessons around the now teenager’s full schedule and suggested that “quitting” was a bad idea that didn’t reflect well on the once committed student’s character. My friend was taken aback and flustered, the interaction confirming that they had made a necessary break. What’s more, she decided that just as the lessons had taken up much needed space, so did the piano. Without hesitation she listed it “for sale!” In no time a buyer made an offer and it was out the door. Gone.

My friend looked at the empty space and instead of satisfaction felt a flood of emotions that inspired a well of tears. She felt lonely, and sad, and guilty. These feelings were magnified as each family member arrived home and asked, “Mom! What did you do with the piano?!” Much to her surprise, she longed for the awkward, beautiful hunk of wood. And the very next day, after scouring local marketplace ads, she found another piano! Somehow, with it in place, the lamp lit, the memories were safe. And there sat the keys ready should one of the older kids want to sit to hammer out a tune or the student play for her enjoyment and that of the house.

There will be times in life when we struggle with purpose. A season changes and we are no longer needed the way we used to be. Or perhaps, we can no longer do the things we used to do. My friend’s piano reminds me that purpose is not always connected to function. There is purpose in who we are and what we’ve meant to others; there is purpose in the space that we occupy in others’ lives. Our presence can bring peace, comfort, and invoke a wealth of memories for our loved ones. Let’s treasure our treasures while we can. Sit in silence, take a drive, look through photos, tell the old stories, hold hands, enjoy the favorite treats together. No one can take your place.