"Some years ago I had a friend who decided at the age of fifty that she was going to learn to play the piano. She courageously started out with Thompson's Book I. Each morning she went to the church at seven o'clock, where she would practice on the piano and, later, on the organ. After about a year they asked her to play a special number for one of the Relief Society lessons She said she didn't feel ready, to give her another three months. The three months passed, and she consented to play a special number that she had memorized. This was her first public appearance on the piano She started out beautifully. It went well for about three measures; then she lost it. Everything went blank. Her music teacher, who was present, said, 'Don't be ruffled. Just start over.' She started over and made it all the way through without a single mistake.
"We have never loved my friend more than we did that morning. Perhaps it was because she faltered a little in the beginning and we were all pulling for her, saying to ourselves, 'Come on, we know you can do it.' If her performance had been flawless from the start, we might all have been defensive and said, 'Oh well, she can learn to play the piano because her husband is the kind who will get his own breakfast while she practices and her children don't make demands on her and so on and so on and so on. As it was. she faltered a little, and we loved her the more. That experience has given me great comfort. I figure that if I fall a little short of what is expected of me, perhaps my sisters in the gospel will be compassionate and love me for trying."
(Small and Simple Things, Marjorie Pay Hinckley, pg. 10-11)
