Quote from Forum Archives on May 10, 2003, 9:44 am

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

<>< The Red Mahogany Piano ><>

Many years ago, when I was a young man in my twenties, I worked as a
salesman for a St. Louis piano company. We sold our pianos all over
the state by advertising in small town newspapers and then, when we
had received sufficient replies, we would load our little trucks,
drive into the area and sell the pianos to those who had replied.

 

Every time we would advertise in the cotton country of Southeast
Missouri, we would receive a reply on a postcard which said, in
effect, "Please bring me a new piano for my little granddaughter. It
must be red mahogany. I can pay $10 a month with my egg money." The
old lady scrawled on and on and on that postcard until she filled it
up, then turned it over and even wrote on the front -- around and
around the edges until there was barely room for the address. Of
course, we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month. No finance
company would carry a contract with payments that small, so we
ignored her postcards.

 

 One day, however, I happened to be in that
area calling on other replies, and out of curiosity I decided to look
the old lady up. I found pretty much what I expected: The old lady
lived in a one room sharecroppers cabin in the middle of a cotton
field. The cabin had a dirt floor and there were chickens in the
house. Obviously, the old lady could not have qualified to purchase
anything on credit -- no car, no phone, no real job, nothing but a
roof over her head and not a very good one at that. I could see
daylight through it in several places. Her little granddaughter was
about 10, barefoot and wearing a feedsack dress.

 

 I explained to the old lady that we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month
and that she should stop writing to us every time she saw our ad. I drove away
heartsick, but my advice had no effect -- she still sent us the same
post card every six weeks. Always wanting a new piano, red mahogany,
please, and swearing she would never miss a $10 payment. It was sad.

 

A couple of years later, I owned my own piano company, and when I
advertised in that area, the postcards started coming to me. For
months, I ignored them -- what else could I do? But then, one day
when I was in the area something came over me. I had a red mahogany
piano on my little truck. Despite knowing that I was about to make a
terrible business decision, I delivered the piano to her and told her
I would carry the contract myself at $10 a month with no interest,
and that would mean 52 payments. I took the new piano in the house
and placed it where I thought the roof would be least likely to rain
on it. I admonished her and the little girl to try to keep the
chickens off of it, and I left -- sure I had just thrown away a new
piano.

 

 But the payments came in, all 52 of them as agreed --
sometimes with coins taped to a 3x5 inch card in the envelope. It was
incredible! So, I put the incident out of my mind for 20 years.

 

Then one day I was in Memphis on other business, and after dinner at the
Holiday Inn on the Levee, I went into the lounge. As I was sitting at
the bar having an after dinner drink, I heard the most beautiful
piano music behind me. I looked around, and there was a lovely young
woman playing a very nice grand piano. Being a pianist of some
ability myself, I was stunned by her virtuosity, and I picked up my
drink and moved to a table beside her where I could listen and watch.

 

She smiled at me, asked for requests, and when she took a break she
sat down at my table. "Aren't you the man who sold my grandma a piano
a long time ago?

 

" It didn't ring a bell, so I asked her to explain.

 

She started to tell me, and I suddenly remembered. My Lord, it was
her! It was the little barefoot girl in the feedsack dress! She told
me her name was Elise and since her grandmother couldn't afford to
pay for lessons, she had learned to play by listening to the radio.

 

She said she had started to play in church where she and her
grandmother had to walk over two miles, and that she had then played
in school, had won many awards and a music scholarship. She had
married an attorney in Memphis and he had bought her that beautiful
grand piano she was playing.

 

Something else entered my mind. "Elise,"
I asked, "It's a little dark in here. What color is that
piano?"

 

"It's red mahogany," she said, "Why?

 

" I couldn't speak.

 

Did she understand the significance of the red mahogany? The unbelievable
audacity of her grandmother insisting on a red mahogany piano when no
one in his right mind would have sold her a piano of any kind? I
think not. And then the marvelous accomplishment of that beautiful,
terribly underprivileged child in the feedsack dress? No, I'm sure
she didn't understand that either. But I did, and my throat
tightened. Finally, I found my voice. "I just wondered," I said. "I'm
proud of you, but I have to go to my room." And I did have to go to
my room, because men don't like to be seen crying in public.

 

<>< + <>< + <>< + <>< + <>< + <>< + <>< + <>< +<>< + <><

 

Who's In Charge

 

I used to give A's to everyone who attended my seminary classes. It made
the Dean unhappy and that's understandable. The thing that always blew me
away was how students were upset at that. They always asked me how much
they should read, how much they needed to do. And I would say, "You've
already got an A." It was a good way to illustrate God's grace for us.

 

You see, we want to earn it. We want to be even.

 

He paid for my lunch and I didn't even know his name. I went to the
little girl at the register and she said, "Sir, a gentleman paid for your
lunch." And I asked, "What's his name?" She said, "I don't know." I said,
"I don't like that." She said, "I don't care." I told her I wanted to pay
for my lunch. She said, "You can't pay for your lunch it's already been
paid for. If that really bothers you give the money to charity."

 

Still makes me angry I couldn't pay that bill.

 

I have a lot of bills with God. I can't pay that one either.

 

I want to control everything. It's the adult child syndrome. We're big
into control because when I couldn't control things it hurt me and caused
me pain. I've spent most of my life trying to control you and me and my
family and my children. And you can throw in God, too.

 

Did you hear about the man in India who was making a trip across the
entirety of the nation? Everything he owned was in a suitcase. He put the
suitcase in a rack on the train above where he was sitting and he put his
eyes on the suite case because everything he owned was in the suite case
and he knew there were thieves on the train.

 

It was 2 o'clock in the morning when he simply couldn't keep his eyes
open any longer. For just a few seconds he drifted off and when he opened
his eyes, the suite case was gone. He then said out loud, "Thank God, now
I can go to sleep."

 

You don't control anything. You're not big enough. The powers are far
beyond you. Now isn't that a relief? You can go to sleep. God's in charge.

 

For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in
earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or
principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him:
And he is before all things, and by him all things consist. -- Colossians
1: 16-17

 

Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara

 

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