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Show TW 3 (Mei? . . . Blind Concert Pianist's Prayer to Be Useful Is Answered in "Enchanted Hills" Rose Resnick, who laid aside a successful concert career to found and direct "Recreation for the Blind," reveals her personal creed. This is one of a series of statements prepared for broadcast by thinking, useful people in all walks of life. By Rose Resnich Executive Director Recreation for the Blind My childhood and adolescence were a joyous outpouring of energy, a ceaseless quest for expression, skill and experience. School was only a background to the supreme delight of lessons les-sons in music, dance, and dramatics, dra-matics, and the thrill of sojourns in the country, theaters, concerts, con-certs, and books big Braille books that came with me on streetcars, to the table and to bed. Then, one night at a high school dance, a remark not intended in-tended for my ears stabbed my youthful bliss. "That girl what a pity she is blind." Blind! That ugly word that implied every-thinf every-thinf dark, blank, rigid and helpless. Quickly, I turned and called out, "Please don't feel sorry for me I'm having lots of fun." But the fun was not to last. With the advent of college, I was brought to grips with the problem of earning a living. Part-time teaching of piano and harmony, and, upon graduation, occasional concerts and lectures, proved only partial sources of livelihood. In terms of time and effort involved, the financial remuneration re-muneration was disheartening. This" induced within me searing self-doubts and dark moods of despondency. Adding to my dismal dis-mal sense of inadequacy was the repeated experience of seeing see-ing my sisters and friends go off to exciting dates. How grateful grate-ful I was for my piano where, through Chopin, Beethoven and Brahms, I could mingle my longing long-ing and seething energy with theirs, and where I could dissolve dis-solve my frustration in the beauty and grandeur of their conceptions. Then, one day I met a girl, a wonderful girl, an Army Nurse, whose faith and stability were to change my whole life. As our acquaintance ripened into friendship, she discerned, behind a shell of gaity, my recurring plateaus of depression. She said, "Stop knocking on closed doors. Keep up your beautiful music I know your opportunity will come. You're trying too hard. Why don't you relax and, have you ever tried praying?" The idea was strange to me. R sounded too simple. Somehow, I had always operated on the f, premise that, if you wanted something in this world, you had to go out and get it for yourself. Yet sincerity and hard work had yielded only meager returns, and I was willing to" try anything. Experimentally, self-consciously, I cultivated a daily practice of prayer. I said, "God she me the purpose for which you sent me to this world. Help me to be of use to myself and to humanity." In the years to follow, the answers an-swers began to arrive clear and satisfying beyond my most optimistic op-timistic anticipation. One of the answers is Enchanted Hills where, each year, my nurse friend and I have the privilege ! of seeing blind children come alive in God's out-or-doors. Others are the never ending sources of pleasure and comfort jj I have found in friendship, in j great music, and most impor- j tant of all, in my growing be- lief that as I attune my life to Divine revelation. I draw closer to God, and through Him, to im- mortality. j |
