I was a brand-new college freshman, wide-eyed at the realities and excited at the possibilities of this new season of life. Before classes even began, I had determined to become involved with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Now there I was, not even a month into the school year, spending a weekend at a camp in the mountains on an IV fall retreat.
Tentative, yet determined to overcome my natural reticence, I threw myself into the discussions, attempted the athletics, and reveled in the beauty of creation. All too soon it was Saturday afternoon - free time. A small group of us in the lodge gathered around the piano. One young man sat down at the keys as others urged him to play.
The notes filled the lodge, the music sweet, then energetic, finally full and majestic. Fingers flying across the keyboard. Raw talent exuded in the playing of this composition: Morning Glory. "You really composed that?" Tinny old campground piano only slightly diminishing the glory of what I was hearing. I remember thinking, "I could listen all day!"
Fast forward eight years. It's a Saturday morning breakfast. Hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, toast. Family of four sharing together. Mama gets up to do the dishes as Daddy sits down at the piano.
And I am transported back to the moment I fell in love.