Happy Sixth Birthday, Alden and Asa!

Happy sixth birthday, Alden and Asa.  This past year has been a great gift in my life as you continue to grow at exponential rates in all areas of personhood.  I am writing your annual open letter, an exercise that I still look forward to, albeit with some anxiety.  If anything, you can view these letters as a window into what is happening to a person 30 years your elder.

This year, I have a simple piece of advice for you: learn to play the piano.  Indeed, you will not have much of an option in our house.  Some parents want to make sure their child can do certain tasks, such as fire a gun or shoot a hoop.  Those are fine things, but our household is one of piano players. 

You may notice that all of our family members have pianos in their homes, and we often play and sing together at family events.  It's not like that at every home.  To this day, I still feel a little out of place in a home that does not have a piano in it.

The piano is an extraordinary machine.  It is universal and heard almost everywhere, but even this everyday sound can transport listeners.  I have never met a single person who regrets spending time learning to play, but I've met many who regret not doing so or giving up along the way.

Why is it so important?  I could point you to studies about the correlation between music making and other skills.  But I don't need to.  Over the past year, I've put together my own reason.  During that time, I have played at weddings, funerals, birthday parties, and hospice care.  And I can tell you that a simple melody and some accompanying chords mean the world to people and can help them move into and past some of the most important and memorable moments of their lives.  As tired or busy as I may be, being asked to play never gets old.  A piano player gets to be in paradigm-shifting moments for people, celebrating the joy of life and serving people in moments of great distress.

While you will learn to play the piano, I don't really care if that skill is what drives your passion and love for serving others.  What I mean to say is this: you must find the "piano" in your own life, something in you that will serve people's needs and that you are willing to give because of the simple fact that it will make a difference (even for a moment).

As always, your mother and I will guide you and help you discover what that is, bankrolling it along the way.  And while you may tire of piano lessons and practicing, in 30 years you will look back and be grateful that you could help a grieving widow remember "their song" and remember the first time she sang it to him (and he immediately fell in love with her).

Happy birthday, twins.

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