A piece of canvas is only the beginning

It takes on character with every loving stroke

This thing of beauty is the passion of an artist's heart

By God's design, we are a skin kaleidoscope

DC Talk

Chapter One

Our family, as if in remembrance of Mama, always went to church. Faithfully, every single Sunday, with no excuses. We tried to do it cheerfully, but it never happened. Whether it was an elderly woman offering condolences or a look of sympathy from one of her friends, one of us always cried.

I, however, never missed a week. I cried every Sunday when the pianist got up to play for offering. I would bawl my eyes out, thinking it should be Mama up there like old times, playing beautifully for the entire world to hear. She was the most talented piano players, and she knew just about every hymn there was to know, all by heart. She had a wonderful memory.

And now, she was a wonderful memory.

Sometimes I would go to the piano bench and lift it up to see all her music. She played Beethoven, all of those extremely difficult pieces with tons of flats and sharps. I would just sit there and listen to an imaginary Mama play the piano. Every night she used to serenade Haley and me to sleep, leaving our doors open to we could hear the grand piano in the living room, and then closing them after a few long songs. By then we were always asleep.

But I could never touch the keys. I couldn't bring myself to. I knew she was the last person to touch those piano keys, and I kept thinking that if I were to play on them it would be like disrespecting her memory. No matter what Dad told me, no matter how much Haley said she missed me playing, and no matter how much I yearned to play, I just couldn't do it.

Throughout my teenage years I never ever touched that grand piano. I always dusted the top of it to make it look shiny, but only for company. I never touched the keys, whether with a dusting rag or with my own fingers.

The Sunday that I turned twenty, May 25th, my father took me aside. I'd just gotten out of college for the summer, even though I was living at home while driving to my classes fifteen minutes away.

He said, "Heidi, I think it's time you go to a different church."

No longer did I cry every single service, but whenever As the Deer was played, I walked out of the sanctuary. Our small church learned never to play that song as long as I was there, because it would make me cry. It was understandable and couldn't be helped that for the first few years after Mama died that I cried during offering, but they always did what they could to keep me and my family from pain.

I looked up at him, tears gathering in my eyes. "I don't know whether I like that or not, Dad."

He hugged me tight, not for the first time. "I think it's best for you.. There's too much emotion, and I know how it hurts you every week when Eve gives you a hug and tells you how sorry she is about your mother. There are too many memories of your mama, aren't I right?"

"Isn't it a little late?" I asked him, ignoring his question because he already knew he was right and pulling back so I could see his face. I saw only concern there. "I mean, it's been ten years." I didn't say since Mama died. It was still too painful to say it out loud, as if I couldn't admit it with my mouth, even after ten years.

I knew the answer. It wasn't too late at all. As long as it was still painful, it would never be too late. And the pain, I already knew, would never go away. "Daddy… am I supposed to move to a different church on my own? Without you? Without Haley?"

Of course, it would be without Haley. She already had her own church, had made that move with her husband a year ago when they got married. Haley was four years older than her and already a teacher with a college degree.

Dad's smile was teasing. "I think you're a big girl, Heidi. You can make it. I think you need it."

But what church was I supposed to move to?

My favorite Christian coffee shop downtown had my answer. As I sat, sipping an iced caramel macchiato as the hot weather blazed on outside, the only other person in the place was the new waitress.

She came over; setting down the rag she was using to wipe off the tables, she asked if she could join me. I wasn't doing anything special, so I told her to "Please do".

I was admiring her dreadlocked dark hair when she stuck out her hand and said, "Hey, I'm Whitney. How d'ya do?"
"I'm doing pretty well," I answered, scooping up the caramel on the bottom of my plastic cup with the straw. "It's nice to meet you, Whitney. I'm Heidi, and how do you do?"

Whitney smiled. "I'm tired but awesome, as always." She sighed. "This shop always gets so boring during the day. Nobody comes here at noon, so I'm pretty much stuck here alone all day. The real coffee rush comes in the morning, and I don't work then. Too lazy, I always sleep in late." Smile.

"Me too," I agreed with a nod. "You want to come to lunch with me?" I really didn't know where that request had come from. Normally I didn't ask complete strangers to lunch with me. But I figured Whitney was a nice girl, considering not just anyone would apply for a job at a coffee shop that said 'Christian' on the front of the building.

"Of course! Thanks," Whitney said. We ate lunch together at a fast food restaurant, chatting the entire time.

And what did I end up with? An invitation to Whitney's church, which she said was 'awesome'. And what I suspected was going to be an 'awesome' friendship.