On Failing and Finishing | Cassy Budd | 2017

We don't need to be paralyzed by our mistakes. Failure helps us to learn and pushes us to rely on the help of the Savior.
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"Music has always been a very important part of my life. Nearly every major memory of my growing up years involves music of some kind: singing with my family on road trips to pass the time, learning barbershop music with my mom and sisters, listening to the Tijuana Brass Band on the record player while decorating our Christmas tree, singing my father’s favorite song, “Love at Home,” for family home evening, admiring my mother as she played the organ in our Sacrament meetings every week - something she still does at the young age of 80. Given that music played such a prominent role in my youth, it will not surprise you to know that I took piano lessons for 10 years, from the age of 8 to 17.
My first piano teacher, we will call her Mrs. Smith, was very strict and had high expectations for mastery.
During my lesson, Mrs. Smith would often follow the music with a pencil as I played. Sometimes, after I hit a sour note or used the wrong fingering, Mrs. Smith would flick my fingers with that pencil. She intended to help me recognize the mistake so that I could correct it. Unfortunately, after several experiences with the dreaded pencil, I learned that the least painful way to handle my musical mistakes was to remove my hands from the keys as quickly as possible.
This habit of abruptly stopping after a mistake was also unintentionally reinforced when I would practice at home. Our piano was positioned on a wall that was opposite our kitchen, in fact, it was back to back with our stove. I would often practice while my mother was making dinner just on the other side of the wall. When I would make a mistake, she would make a staccato “ah” sound. Startled, my hands would fly from the keys. I know this was not the intended outcome because I heard her do the same thing when she made her own mistakes at the organ or piano. She still does this today, but only in practice. When she is at the organ or piano for performance, there are few errors, but when they occur, they are hardly noticeable. She can play right on through a mistake like nothing happened.
I, on the other hand, cannot. Most of my piano recitals with Mrs. Smith took place in the chapel of my home ward building. These were reverent occasions; no clapping after the end of each performer, just polite smiles from the audience as we each took our turn at the grand piano. We were not allowed to use our music, so for me, the walk up those three velvety red steps to the piano felt like walking into a battle unarmed. I was terrified that I would make a mistake, take my hands from the keys and be unable to find the right placement again. The terror of performing would follow me into adulthood.
To this day, even when I am home alone practicing in complete solitude, I cannot play “Sweet Hour of Prayer” - the simplest of hymns - without stopping, unless I have the unlikely good fortune to get through it with no mistake. For this reason, I try not to call attention to my piano training (cat’s out of the bag now, I guess). I am so paralyzed by mistakes, that I am of no practical use at the piano.
When you allow yourself to be paralyzed by your mistakes, you diminish your ability to be useful in God’s kingdom. Making mistakes is simply part of the human condition and can be one of your most productive learning tools. You need to recognize your mistakes, yes. But more than that, you need to find a way to effectively play through them." - Cassy Budd
Cassy Budd was a professor of accountancy in the BYU Marriott School when this devotional was given on February 14, 2017.
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