Finding Faith and Adaptation Through Piano

In this segment of the “Sounds of Worship and Wonder” series, Carter Viss and his mother Leila reflect on their experience with grief and the power of music. After a tragic accident left Carter with permanent injuries, his passion for music became a path to healing. Together, they share a powerful story of how music became a source of healing, resilience, and faith as Carter adapted to his new life and reconnected with the piano. They also recount their experiences in their coauthored book Found in the Wake.

Leila: An unimaginable family trauma deepened my passion for making music and heightened my awareness of the value of teaching piano. Beyond helping others play the piano, I’m giving them the gift of making music. All three of our sons were encouraged to level up their piano skills through eighth grade. They were okay with Mom as their teacher but I confess, I never had the patience with them like I did with other people’s kids! Despite me, they all continue to enjoy playing piano or guitar as adults. In fact, at 25, our middle son Carter, invested in a digital piano to replace his cheap keyboard as he regularly played the piano before and after work.

Carter: Playing the piano has always been a part of my life. Growing up with a mom who was a piano teacher made learning the piano seem like a chore. It wasn’t until high school that I began to appreciate the depth and beauty of it. The piano became a source of self-expression and a tool to reflect my emotions when I was feeling down. Most importantly, playing piano became my favorite way to worship God. During college, I started playing piano at a local nursing home as a part of my required volunteer hours. While I was playing here, I realized that in addition to being a personal time of reflection, music could have an impact on others. It could uplift, soothe, and connect to people in ways nothing else could.

My life took a tragic turn on Thanksgiving Day of 2019 when I lost my right arm after getting hit by a speeding boat while snorkeling. Seeing my severed arm sinking down to the reef below will always haunt me. The propellers also nearly severed both of my legs and broke my left hand. In a true miracle, the trauma surgeons had to take a picture of my left wrist because they couldn’t believe the propeller missed the central nerve in my left hand by less than a millimeter. If the propeller had hit the nerve, I would’ve lost function in most of my remaining hand.

Leila: While Carter faced the reality of his missing right arm and waited for his left hand to heal, he often asked me if he would be able to play piano again. Although I wanted to appear strong and reassure him he would, my hope was in short supply.

Carter: When I woke up in the hospital, I was stripped of my independence and physical abilities. The idea of playing again was something I immediately assumed I couldn’t do. I told myself that I needed to give up and forget about it. As I began the slow process of healing, God refused to let me give up. A few months after the accident, I sat down at my keyboard again. The first attempt was frustrating. Playing with only one hand was difficult both physically and emotionally. It felt like I was starting from scratch. But I kept coming back to it, day after day. With each passing week, I began to make progress. Slowly, I began to rework Bach’s Prelude in C Major, figuring out how to maneuver through the song with my injured left hand. It was a long and difficult process, but I started to realize that playing the piano again was not about trying to regain everything I had lost—it was about finding new ways to express myself and my faith. I had to rethink the way I approached the instrument. I had to be patient with myself and trust that I would get better with time and repetition.

Leila: I was not acquainted with grief of this magnitude brought on by Carter’s permanent loss. A friend gave me a book called Grief One Day at a Time by Dr. Alan Wolfelt and I learned that grief is what goes on inside you when your heart is broken. Mourning is what goes on outside you when you express your grief. Playing the piano, arranging hymns and composing original music allowed me space to mourn. I found a vocabulary when words failed because music mirrored my emotions and gave them a place to land.

My shattered heart and disappointment with God shook my faith, so I turned to the Psalms. The poetry affirmed my sorrow and provided words to express my lament. Verses recognized my impatience and assured me that God loved me even when I couldn’t find “joy in the morning.”

“How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day? Turn and answer me, O Lord my God. Restore the light to my eyes" (Psalm 13:1-2).

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

Certain words and themes rang out—literally—like sing, unfailing love, wait quietly, praise, be still, declare the glory. They nudged me to write my own “Psalms” for the piano. The word "selah" is found throughout the 150 songs and means "interlude" which indicates a pause or musical interlude. I titled my growing collection of original compositions, or “soulos,” Interludes for the Soul.

“Sing new songs of praise to him, play skillfully on the harp, and sing with joy. His unfailing love fills the earth” (Psalm 33: 3,5).

“It is good to proclaim your unfailing love in the morning, your faithfulness in the evening accompanied by the harp and lute and the harmony of the lyre” (Psalm 92:2).

Carter: Over five years have passed since the accident, and I now feel more confident on the piano than I did when I had two hands. I’ve adapted most of the pieces I used to play with two hands to work with one. I’ve challenged myself to play pieces that I once thought were too difficult. The process of adaptation has been a rewarding one, not just because it allowed me to play again, but because it showed me that even in the face of adversity, I can still find ways to move forward. The loss of my right arm has taught me more about the true nature of music than I could have ever imagined. It’s not about perfection, it’s about the act of creating, of finding new methods and perspectives to continue expressing myself. Through this loss I experienced, I’ve come to realize that music is about resilience, adaptation, and trusting in God through life’s darkest moments.

Leila: Since Carter’s adaptation to playing piano with one hand, I have found substantial evidence that confirms my suspicions. In her book Beyond Anxiety: Curiosity, Creativity, and Finding Your Life's Purpose, Dr. Martha Beck states that “creativity replaces anxiety.” Both Carter and I were compelled to express our mourning through the piano and we both found healing in our music making. All creatures are wired to fear but only human brains are wired to create–make music, draw, compose, write stories…. In his unfathomable wisdom, God’s gift of music and command to “sing his praise” simultaneously quiets our minds and restores our souls.

“You have turned my mourning to dancing” (Psalm 30:11).