That’s right, folks.
Not long after we moved to Joplin four and a half years ago, I knew it was time to fulfill a dream project. Painting a piano. I had a photo of a kelly green piano from a magazine, and it was on my list. I knew it needed to be either red or turquoise. And I had tons of red everything already. So…
Turquoise it was.
I put the word out for a used, cheap (holla), but solid piano. And a precious lady from our new church responded. She just happened to have one, that she wanted to give me. For free. Binda is still one of the most generous women I know, and she probably nearly fainted when she found out that I had plans to paint her old piano… turquoise at that. But she gave it to me anyways. And paint it, I did!
The before. Look at those gorgeous legs!
I sanded and primed it, and though I can’t find the in-between photos right now of each process of transformation, I will update when I do. Let me just say, it was a feat. Wowza! Taping the keys, the stinking cover…. oh mama… this project was one for the books. Story of my life!
I had seen painted pianos that were sanded to have a worn appearance, and were beautiful, but I knew that I wanted this particular piece to be shiny in all of her brilliance. And so, I sealed it with a glossy polyurethane. In March. Inside of my house. Another one of my not-so-brilliant moves. But, when a project idea hits me, any and all reserve flies out of the window. Plus, have you ever tried to move (or even budge) a piano? Um, just no. When the strong men struggle, we don’t ask for it to be moved again. We deal. So, we had windows and doors open, fans running tirelessly, as well as a few hazy kids stumbling around (kidding), during her drying time.
Two months later, an EF5 tornado devastated our city, and destroyed our church, which stood next door. Our house initially received minor damage, but due to that damage, ended up receiving severe water damage in the days of rain that followed storm. We lost many “things”, but were so blessed to have not lost any friends or loved ones. Things are just, things.
The piano did not receive initial damage. But after months in a POD (moveable storage unit), in the parking lot next door, which is said to have reached interior temps of over 200 degrees, the poly sealant bubbled. Again, minor in light of what surrounded us.
And when my son developed PTSD following the tornado, the piano was the least of my worries. Months of rehabilitation, moving back into our home, stepping into a new phase of ministry having no church building, and many other obstacles, kept my thoughts off of anything else.
And when I finally did have the chance to do a little rehab on the piano, I didn’t even want to. For some reason, I wanted to see the scuffs. I didn’t mind the nicks and discoloration. Her imperfection spoke to me in a way that imperfection never had before. We would all never be the same. And that was okay.
We all love her.
Isn’t she lovely?