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 prodigy 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 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 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 someday." But 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 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 upcoming recital. 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 mother 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 all right. 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 a 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'd run an eggbeater 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 play like 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 that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, 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 prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . . 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 a nd you don't know why.
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. And now, a footnote to the story.
*********
If God didn't have a purpose for us.
We wouldn't be here!
Robby's Night
Sabi ko na kasi!...Ang bait ni GOD
Its been a very great and wonderful experience for me attending our SFC RECON (Regional Conference). It was my first time na nag-attend ng RECON. Pero hindi ko ma-explain yung sayang nadarama ko. Wow!!!! Grabe. The speakers and the sharers are great. The workshops are very inspiring. The saturday night event is very powerful, feeling ko sa mga oras na yon lahat ng anghel sa langit ay bumaba at kasama namin sa pag-worship kay GOD, and the POWER OF THE HOLY SPIRIT spirit is grabe, nasa aming lahat, napupuno ang buong venue at higit sa lahat si GOD nandun. Siya ang may gawa ng lahat. LORD JESUS THANKS FOR THAT GREAT EXPERIENCE! Ang saya ko po. Sana ganun ang mangyayari sa lahat ng conference.
OOOPPS!!!! Hindi pa ako tapos dahil hindi lang naman yan ang dahilan kung bakit ako masaya. Ang saya ko rin dahil may na meet akong mga SFC sa ibang provinces. Lalo pa kaming nagkaroon ng bonding. Lahat ng activities sinalihan naming. Frst time in the history of Bohol daw na sinalihan namin lahat ng activity at competition sa conference. May mga nagtanong nga kong bakit ngayon lang daw lumabas ang mga talents ng Bohol? Sagot nalang naming na kagigising pa lang namin. Hehehe.O di kaya ngayon pa lng nauntog! joke!!! lang..hehe…
CONGRATS PALA SA ATIN LAHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MABUHAY ANG SFC BOHOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ito seryoso na ako sa isi-share ko. Masaya dahil…bakit nga ba ako masaya nun? he...he.. Well there is this certain bro. na....hmmm...... alam nyo na yon. pero sad to say, ako lang ang nakakakilala sa kanya. Lagi ko siya nakikita sa mga activities namin. Pero ang problea ay hindi ko pa alam ang name nya nun.. Pero ang bait ni GOD dahil nagkataon na may isang okasyon na nagkakakilala kami, pero sad pa rin kasi hindi naman kame nagkakausap. Pinapansin lang niya ako pag dumadan siya sa harapan ko. kaya dun sa recon sobrang na shock ako kasi binati nya ako at sinabing KUMUSTA KA NA? Hindi agad ako nakapagsalita buti nalang nagsalita yon isang bro na kasama niya na kakilala ko rin. Kasi kong hindi siguradong napahiya ako sa oras na yon. Hindi ko kasi inasahan na babatiin niya ako ng time na yun. As of now nagko-communicate na kami thru text an gang saya-saya ko. Well sa sequijor pa lang nag uusap na kami. Sobrang saya ko kasi ang bait niya. Kahit malayo siya masaya na ako kasi were friends.
THANKS GOD AT NA KASAMA AKO SA RECON NA YON....
GOD BLESS YOU ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
konviksyuns
The Butterfly
A man found a cocoon of a butterfly
One day a small opening appeared
He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours
It struggled to force its body through that little hole
Then it seemed to stop making any progress
It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could
And it could go no farther.
So the man decided to help the butterfly
He took a pair of scissors and snipped off
The remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily,
BUT,It had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings
He continued to watch the butterfly
He expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge
And the body would contract
Neither happened!
In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling
Around with a swollen body and shriveled wings.
It was never able to fly.
The man acted with well-intentioned kindness
But he didn't understand the consequences.
The restricting cocoon and the struggle required to get
Through the tiny opening, were nature's way of forcing fluid
From the body of the butterfly once it achieved it's freedom
From the cocoon.
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life.
If nature allowed us to go through life without any
Obstacles, it would cripple us.
We would not be as strong as we could have been
And we could never fly
Have a great day, great life, and struggle a little.
Then fly!
What's the miracle cost?
Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only amiracle can save him now."
Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an eight year old at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.
"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.
"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."
The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"
"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs a operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money. "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.
"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."
That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"
Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents... plus the faith of a little child.
