The past few days have seen me frantically writing as I have tried to meet a deadline whilst battling a touch of ‘flu. Just sent off the chapters in question. Phew! (And thank you God for Lemsip.)
My work was interrupted yesterday for two hours by the presence of a very sweet retired gentleman who came to tune my ailing piano.
Whilst he was here, my mentor rang for a catch up. I presume that part of our conversation was overheard because when I was writing out my cheque, my aforementioned musical maestro’s opening line was:
“One of my ancestors was a faith healer.”
Now that is the weirdest thing a piano tuner, or in fact anyone you have never met, could say. Surely.
I think it was his way of trying to work out what he had just heard and label me. Bless his heart!

We had a remarkable brief conversation where he listened patiently as I explained that I am not a faith healer as such. I described myself as a woman who uses music and speech to share the love of God to others in ways that sometimes brings about emotional and spiritual wholeness. I then felt he was thinking, ‘So you ARE a faith healer!’

He seemed very interested. Or maybe he just didn’t have another piano to tune. At any rate, we exchanged a number of spiritual words for ten minutes before he left. Just before I led him to the door, I asked him to look at the painting in our kitchen. It was one given to me by our previous cell group as a leaving present and reminder of the live recording of ‘Coming Home.’

We talked about the painting for a little while and I used it to gently describe what God means to me. (Gently because this sweet man reminded me of a tiny dormouse just out of hibernation. He was spectacled, wore braces and smelt of pipe smoke. I’ll warrant he had plaid slippers and an armchair waiting for him by a fire too.)

My piano-tuning friend said something fascinating. He said ‘Some people get angry when you try and share the good news don’t they?’

I was sharing good news with him and he was not at all angry. He clearly did not understand a great deal of what I was saying but described our meeting as a privilege.

How extraordinary that my out of tune piano could lead me to share something seemingly so ‘in tune’ with heaven.

I am almost tempted to detune my piano again so that I can meet the delightfully inquisitive man again. But he charged me actual money for mending it, so I’ll just wait for the radiator to do that for me.