It's been a while since I've made a post and last Sunday on the way home from "Grandma and Grandpa Jensen's house" we were having a bit of a chat with the kids.
Toby is a bit taken with poetry right now, don't ask me how that happened (oh and knitting with Pam too, but that's another post entirely, one for Pam I think). Anyway, Pam recited from memory, without hesitation The Touch of the Masters Hand.
It's a poem I have heard now and again throughout my life and, while I have always enjoyed it, it has never really affected me on any level. Until now. This is extremely hard for me to write, because all of a sudden, these bunch of words are extremely close to my heart and I don't know that I will be able to express the reason or the feeling to you.
Pam herself doesn't know what her recital has done to me, it's been a mental pondering that hasn't left my thoughts for too long at all since our ride home. But that's all it's been, a bunch of thoughts, and I don't know why, but I am moved to express myself here, on the internet, on a blog, where anyone can see.
Here is the text of the poem:
'Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin, But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good folk?" he cried. "Who'll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar ... now two ... only two ... Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, Going for three" ... but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dust from the old violin And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet, As sweet as an angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer, With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "What am I bid for the old violin?" As he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars ... and who'll make it two? Two...two thousand, and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once and three thousand twice ... Three thousand and gone!" said he.
The people cheered, but some exclaimed "We do not quite understand ...
What changed it's worth?" and the answer came: " 'Twas the touch of the master's hand."
I love this poem. I can relate it directly to my life. I can relate to the violin, no maybe that isn't right. I AM the violin. And I have felt the touch of the masters hand change my worth. I have felt the love of the masters heart. And I gain nourishment through the masters generosity.
Through the care, love, mercy, faith and charity of the master, I have become a different man, a man worth so much more than before.
What greater purpose is there, for a master, than to try and help his student far exceed himself. This is my mission in life: To love my family, help them, set an example for them and be to them what the Master was for the violin. To expand their worth and reveal their potential, for it is great.
The accomplishing of this task is not easy, and I am no expert. But I am learning, and I have the biggest advantage a man can have in this game of life. A wife who loves and believes in him.
I love my family, I love this poem. This post doesn't make sense, but it's all I can give for now.
I hope the reading of this poem changes your life for the better.
-Dan
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