And the winner is...

Sunday noon – instead of getting ready to leave the church, we were on the road to a music competition which Luke’s teacher had planned for him since last year. It was but a short 20 minutes drive from home. Traffic was light and the sky was clearing up from the early morning’s dreariness. The young musician next to me, though, was not as jovial as the beautiful sunny day outside. He had dressed himself this morning in his so-called “concert pants”, which means white shirt and black pants. With face shaved and hair newly cut, he was looking mighty handsome and yet somewhat worried. A couple of times he would withdraw his attention from his favorite high way scenes and turn to me to say: it’s going to be hard, but doable, right? I could tell it was probably one of his teacher’s sentences and he was just repeating it to acquire my concurrence. Having been to plenty of competitions all these years, we are realistic enough to know that he is no competition as in no chance to win. We were doing this, hopefully the last time ever, only to make his well-meaning teacher happy, same as we do with his recitals or performances. It pains us to see his heart haunted, thus we had made our best effort to alleviate his apprehension on this matter. Clearly, he was still not quite assured that it would be of no consequences to us one way or another. I would have turned around to go home if it had not been for his teacher’s sake.

So here we were at the Presbyterian church where the competition was held. We went through the registration process and asked for permission to leave for lunch. I was only too happy to take him away from the setting if only for a little bit. No problem, they said, just be sure to be back before his scheduled rehearsal time and performance. An hour later after a bite and a stroll on Target, we came back just in time for his 15-minute warm up. As he dutifully went through a couple of spots, he actually looked more and more relaxed. The usher came to retrieve him to the waiting room with a couple of other contestants waiting for their turn. Their faces were somber and serious. One young man was staring at the score with unwavering attention. Suddenly, it hit me hard and I am ashamed to admit that after all these years’ “training”, I was nervous as if I had been the one going on to the stage. I reached to touch his hand – it was nice and warm. His angelic face revealed a world so untouched and almost sacred. I don’t know if it was that or the pre-competition tension that took me aback, but I almost could not breathe. I took my leave to step out to the lobby to walk off my nerve.

I came back later – there was no sight of him. My eyes went around the room, but it was my ears that found him as the familiar Beethoven streamed out from the stage. My breath went short as I pictured my son steadily playing on despite of a whirlwind of turmoil going on my whole being. His tiny frame was probably bending down a little too much as he concentrated further on every single phrase, line and dynamic that his teacher had taught him. It was déjà vu all over again: while I was down here, he was trying his utmost to speak to our world with the only language he knows best. Surely I knew it was more for my sake that through moments like that this world might see a soul so pure and fine such as his. My heart was pumping in such a craze that I feared it was going to stop. Do you, o world, even come close to catch a glimpse of perfection beyond those resonating notes in that little 5’ 5” frame, his faithfulness, trust and contentment despite of all?

He stopped. I heard the applauses, followed by him walking out in his regular speedy pace, his head slightly slanted with his usual quiet composure. Tears rushed to my eyes like the first time and every time. My heart now pumped with joy as I walked up to embrace him. There is no comfort and peace than this, I whispered to myself, besides in the arms of Jesus. Then again, moments like this lead to that with Jesus too, when I am reminded of the unfailing promises through this shadow-like little person. When I am crushed by the vileness and inconsistency of the world, sometimes myself included, I am always brought back to the essence of my existence, or any existence – His purposes and the most splendid plan to reveal Himself. My Luke has been here for that very reason and we are only too privileged to experience Him through him.

We walked out, now both joyfully and light-heartedly. He was all excited about taking a different route home and the bowling we were going to do afterwards. He had worked hard, come to deliver his best and now ready to move on. The result of whether he won or not mattered not. How immensely shamed I was there and then, but at the same time I was not at all ashamed to be rewarded with this special prize right next to me. God and I both know that I need him to keep me in line. The announcement of the winners would not be ready for a couple of hours, but as we drove off the parking lot I already knew who the winners were…..