Yesterday I spent a few hours with Mother and Daddy before I had to play for a wedding rehearsal at a beautiful old church in a neighboring town. The groom's grandmother, Yvonne, is the pianist there, and she asked me to step in for her because her grandson wanted her to be part of the wedding party. Yvonne is one of the best musicians around. Stepping in for her is kind of like having Ginger Rogers ask you to dance a number or two with Fred while she sits in the audience. Daunting. And as I was sweating Pachelbel's Canon and other classical pieces I don't play very much any more, Mama said, "Oh, you're gonna do fine." You can't imagine how many challenges she has gotten me through with that one little line—piano recitals and church solos, semester tests and final exams, school presentations, work presentations, my first business trips, my own wedding . . . She has a way of saying it so that I believe it. There's something about the way she says "fine" that makes it downright ridiculous to think things could turn out any other way. She's saved me a fortune in self-help books. I don't need a life coach to tell me I control my own destiny. I just need Mama to tell me I'm gonna do fine.
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