Today the grand piano came home to Pilgrim Congregational Church. This beauty is a 1905 Mason & Hamlin, and it has a story. In the early 1900s, a father wanted to make his little girl's dreams come true. When she asked him for a piano, not any ebony and ivory would do. He took her on a trip from Northeastern Wisconsin to Chicago to visit the Mason & Hamlin storeroom on Michigan Avenue. This is the treasured instrument she selected.

Decades later, the piano made its way to PCC, the church home of Mark and Florence Goedjen (the little girl's son and daughter-in-law). For years the keys lay untouched and the strings sat silently in the church's garden room. The piano was repurposed as a furniture piece, a side table, a holder of potted plants.

One curious church choir director thought this gem should be employed for greater things than eye candy. She asked if the piano could be moved to the sanctuary to accompany the choir and to assist in facilitating worship on Sundays. Once relocated, many wondered why the move had not happened sooner. This precious holder of history blessed the congregation for many decades, particularly in partnership with the illustrious skills of Dick Cayer, the church organist.

Over the years, like all of us, the piano's finish darkened, the mechanics lost their ease, and it just wasn't what it used to be. However, Dick knew its worth, and he believed that in the right hands, this piano could be reborn and serve the church for many years to come.

Hope is a powerful thing.

The church rallied behind Dick's vision and sent their beloved baby grand to Madison for restoration. It was an investment. It cost the church a large sum of money. It meant weeks with an upright that did not even compare in quality to the sound and presence of the grand piano. The church agreed that the cost was worth it. Cherishing the history, the memories, was worth it. Devoting time and money to this gift of an instrument was worth it. The music that flowed forth from the Mason & Hamlin was worth it.

Faith is a powerful thing.

While the piano was experiencing the tumultuous disembodiment of deconstruction, the church was saying goodbye to the one whose history was linked to the cherished grand, our beloved Florence. At 97 years of age, Florence was sharp and full of life, yet she had suffered a fall, and it did not appear that she would recover. Many expressed hope that she would hang on until the piano came back home, so she could enjoy it one last time.

It was not to be. On October 18, 2021, Florence went home to heaven. We celebrated her life with beautiful music the following Friday. Sadness gently touched conversations that day: "It's too bad Florence couldn't have held on until the piano was back."

The greatest power of all is love.

Today as the piano was rolled into the sanctuary, a number of us gathered together to celebrate its homecoming. The grand tightly wrapped in blankets, awaiting its unfolding- we were giddy with stories of its past and hope of its future. "What will it sound like?" "What will it look like?" "Oh, I can't wait to hear Dick play it!"

As we all hovered around the platform steps and the piano was unveiled, I was struck by its beauty, by the care and masterful hand of the restorer. It looked like a brand new piano, fully alive, fully rebuilt. And then it hit me.

The piano is Florence. Not really, of course, but both of them new a century of life, life that was a gift to others. Both of them went away to be reborn, to be made whole, to be remade by the Master restorer. And both of them have come home to stay.

She's home. And we are so very glad.