The Pianist at Houston Methodist Hospital

On a pianist who plays in the lobby every day, and on what it means to play your part when no one is listening.

In the lobby of Houston Methodist Hospital, there is a piano, and there is a pianist.

He is there almost every day, playing different pieces. People come and go, few stop to listen; yet he remains seated at the piano, quiet melodies flowing from his fingertips. He doesn’t ask whether anyone is listening. He simply plays.

That music sweeps away my day’s fatigue, and perhaps soothes the sorrow in some patient’s heart. A piano in a bustling lobby seems lonely, but within that loneliness there is a beauty.

I think of the words from Ecclesiastes:

The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all.

Life is uncertain. Effort does not guarantee reward; talent may never be seen. So why does this pianist keep playing?

Perhaps he knows another truth:

Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether good or evil.

Where no one applauds, it does not mean no one sees. Every hidden act of goodness, God remembers.

Can I play my part well when there is no applause? If I no longer live for applause, then I can.