Usually my Thursday cello lesson consists of two adult students (Anja and Bruce) and one teacher (Lieven).  Occasionally, such as yesterday, a girl joins us.  She’s about 16.  I’ll call her Marie.

I was the first to play.  The girl sat across the way, head down.  When she raised her head, her eyes were heavy …  I sensed great sadness.

I was concentrating on the music but a part of me was being slowly torn apart.  When it was Anja’s turn, I often closed my eyes and prayed for Marie.  I sent her love.  Usually when I do this, it feels like the other person doesn’t know they’re being blessed.  I thought the same about Marie.  And I kept going.

As our lesson completed, Marie and I were leaving at the same time.  Will I say something or not?  Maybe I’ll just let my well-wishing hang silently in the air.

But no … I chose otherwise.

Bruce:  You seemed so sad in there.  (Pause)  Are you religious?

Marie:  Yes.

Bruce:  I prayed for you.

(Marie starts to cry)

Bruce:  May I continue to pray for you?

Marie:  Yes.

(Moist eyes together … saying goodbye)

***

An old lesson takes up residence in my head: Don’t make someone cry.  And now I invite it to leave.

Two fragile human beings

Connecting