I lost a mentor today.
Dr. Samuel Hsu was a brilliant musician, a keen humorist, and the best history teacher I’ve ever had. He understood that learning isn’t all about disconnected facts. He knew how to illuminate the connections between things, from musical styles to psychological fads.
His humor was silly but irresistible. (He’d say something absurd, like, “What do you call hamburgers at the beach? Sandy Patty!” Then he’d laugh, quietly and endearingly, and in spite of all reason, you’d laugh with him.)
His patience was legendary. I know I wasn’t the only student to have an emotional breakdown of some kind during lessons, reaching critical mass via the magic of music and life changes. He was also a not-so-secret matchmaker, and delighted in watching young love bloom the way small children are delighted with exotic animals: not for him, but fascinating to watch.
He was one of the most brilliant musicians I’ve ever know, drawing delicate sounds from the piano as if it coaxing it to sing with human voice.
He was my friend.
One semester, I was having a particularly bad time. Family conflict kept me awake at night. Diabetes made me sick and afraid. My right arm was injured, and with it in a sling, I still had to pursue a major in Piano Performance (you would never believe the pieces available for one-handed pianists, but that’s another story).
I went to my piano lesson one day on the edge of tears, and there was Dr. Hsu waiting for me with a piece of paper on which he’d typed this song from Michael Card:
There is a joy in the journey
There’s a light we can love on the way
There is a wonder and wildness to life
And freedom for those who obey
And all those who seek it shall find it
A pardon for all who believe
Hope for the hopeless and sight for the blind
To all who’ve been born of the Spirit
And who share incarnation with Him
Who belong to eternity stranded in time
And weary of struggling with sin
Forget not the hope that’s before you
And never stop counting the cost
Remember the hopelessness when you were lost
“The joy, Ruthanne, is in the journey,” he said in his quiet voice. “It is in the journey. Do you see? Not in the destination, and not in what hurts you now. It is in the journey. You must align your focus to lose this sadness.”
My assignment for that “piano” lesson was to find and listen to this music in the school library until I understood it.
Dr. Hsu was far more than a piano teacher. He was a life-teacher, and he taught me never to take myself too seriously while still being serious about hard work.
Sandy Patty, indeed.
Someday, Dr. Hsu, I’ll see you again – but I still don’t think I’ll be able to call you “Sam.”
From 1 Peter 5:10:
And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.