Take the time to read......

[Guest guest]

This is special please read.

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred

Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines,

Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons,

something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children

have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having

a

prot`g` though I have taught some talented students. However I've also had

my share of what I call " musically challenged " pupils.

One such student was 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 with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought

itwas a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of

tone

and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and

some elementary 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'd always say, " My mom's

going to hear me play some day. " But it seemed hopeless. He just did not

have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from distance as she

dropped

Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and

smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling

him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to

pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad

advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the

upcomingrecital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he

could be

in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and

because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom

had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still

practicing.

" Miss Hondorf...I've just got to play! " he insisted. I don't know what led

me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or

maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be alright. The

night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with

parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I

was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I

thought that any damage he would 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 hitch. The students had! been practicing

and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and

his hair looked like he' run an egg-beater through it.

Why didn't he dress 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 he began. I was surprised when he

announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #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 people

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've never heard you

playlike that Robby! How'd you do it? "

Through the microphone Robby explained: " Well Miss Hondorf...remember I

told you my mom was sick?  Well actually she had cancer and passed away

this

morning. And well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she

ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special. " There wasn't a dry eye in

the house thatevening.  As the people from Social Services led Robby from

the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes

were

red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for

taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I've never had a prot`g`e but that night I became a prot`g`...of

Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught

me

the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe

even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why. This is especially

meaningful to me since after serving in Desert Storm Robby wa! s killed in

the

senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City

in April of 1995, where he was reportedly....playing the piano.

And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this

message, you are probably thinking about 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.   We all

have thousands of opportunities a day to help realize

  God's plan. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people

present us with a choice: Do we pass along

spark of the Divine? Or do we pass up that opportunity, and leave the world

a bit colder in the process?  You have

  twochoices now:

    1. Delete this.

    2. Forward it to the people you care about.

    You know the choice I made. Thank you fo! r reading this....