Music to my Ears

Spoiler alert…I didn’t watch the Grammys this weekend,  And honestly, I don’t feel much of anything about it. The hype wasn’t for me. Lately, the tension and politics in the world feel overwhelming most days, and skipping it felt like self-preservation. Still, it got me thinking about music—and how deeply it has always been woven into my life. Sometimes, it wasn’t just background noise; it was a lifeline.

As a kid, I wanted to play the piano. My Grandma Moser, a phenomenal organ player, had other plans. She wanted me to learn and love the organ the way she did. So we made a deal: if I played the organ for a year and still wanted a piano at the end of it, we would trade the organ in. I swear I counted down every minute of that year. When the time came, my heart hadn’t changed—I still wanted the piano.  I don’t remember all the details of how it arrived, but I remember how I felt when it did. I was in love. I still own that piano to this day.

Piano lessons, however, were another story. I didn’t love them, but I went. My piano teacher carried a ruler (if you know, you know). She demanded discipline and hard work. Week after week, recital after recital, I showed up—until one day I didn’t anymore. I’m sure I pleaded with my mom to be done, though the details of that conversation are lost to time.

I still enjoyed playing, even if I could never compete with the natural talent of my aunts. My Aunt Nancy could hear a song and play it straight from her heart. My Aunt Audry worked tirelessly, took lessons, and could play anything you put in front of her. I spent countless hours at the upright piano at my grandparents’ house, learning duets so I could play alongside them. I often wonder—did Grandma ever get tired of hearing “Heart and Soul” over and over?

Over the years, I had the opportunity to play piano for weddings and funerals. It was never easy. I was usually terrified. But I always felt deeply honored when I was asked. That fear pushed me to work harder, to do my very best, and to honor the person I was playing for.

Eventually, I realized that while I enjoyed playing, my voice was the gift God had given me. Singing became my joy. I began doing special music at a small church in Morrill, Kansas whenever they would have me. Armed with cassette tapes of my favorite Sandi Patti songs, I shared what I had. One of the last songs I sang in that tiny Baptist church was at my grandma’s funeral—His Eye Is on the Sparrow. To this day, that song holds a sacred place in my heart.

For me, music became a way to honor those I loved and to say the words that were sometimes too hard to speak out loud. I remember singing Pray for Me as a youth pastor left for his next calling—an emotional day I’ll never forget.

As I got older, music continued to shape my life. I became a worship leader at a church in Pittsburg, and music soon became a big part of my kids’ lives too. During a Bible study on David, I felt led by God to write a song. Intimidated but willing, I found myself back at the piano, searching for notes and words to bring my thoughts to life. When I shared it with the praise team and they sang it with me in church, a dream was fulfilled.  One day, while shopping at Dillons, I heard a young Kaleigh singing the chorus of that song while she sat in the cart. It was one of those moments that quietly stays with you forever.

Writers, singers, and musicians alike often describe music as something that gives purpose. It allows us to express our deepest thoughts and desires in a creative, meaningful way. These days, music for me looks like Spotify when I need encouragement—usually something in the Phil Wickham lane. I praise God for the good, and I praise Him through the hard. Music makes room for both.  Find the music that speaks to your heart—and be blessed today