I was eight. Seated at the old, out of tune, upright piano in the back corner of our dining room, I rehearsed again the hymn I’d just discovered how to play. “Great is Thy Faithfulness” has surprising major chords where there should be minor ones, and its soaring chorus melody matches a lyrical explosion of praise. On that day, seated beside me on a dining room chair was my grandfather, dueting with me in his booming voice. Singing with him always brought a new awareness of the meaning of the lyrics. Something about the way he sang them made me feel like they were singing him.
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