The Touch Of The Master's Hand

It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
Hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes 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 now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the Master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice -
He's going - and almost gone!
But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S hand.
Myra Brooks Welch

Powerful !!

My friend, Mac Anderson, at Simple Truths shared a post with me not too long ago that I'd like to share with you. I think we all tend to forget just how blessed we are until we get a reminder. Here it is on this Friday morning:



Your Reminder...

The date was July 16, 2008. It was late in the afternoon and I was sitting in my hotel room in Louisville, Kentucky. I was scheduled to speak that evening for the Kentucky Association of School Administrators (KASA).

I was a little "down in the dumps." I hadn't gotten to exercise lately because of my traveling schedule and recently I'd experienced some mild bouts of vertigo (that inner ear condition that can cause the room to start spinning.) You got it...speaking and "spinning" are not good partners!

My keynote presentation was scheduled for 7:00 PM, but I had been invited to show up at 6:00 to see a performance they said I'd enjoy. Little did I know that I was about to see something I would never forget.

They introduced the young musician. Welcome...Mr. Patrick Henry Hughes. He was rolled onto the stage in his wheelchair, and began to play the piano. His fingers danced across the keys as he made beautiful music.

He then began to sing as he played, and it was even more beautiful. For some reason, however, I knew that I was seeing something special. There was this aura about him that I really can't explain and the smile...his smile was magic!

About ten minutes into Patrick's performance, someone came on the stage and said..."I'd like to share a 7-minute video titled, The Patrick Henry Hughes story." And the lights went dim.

Patrick Henry Hughes was born with no eyes, and a tightening of the joints which left him crippled for life. However, as a child, he was fitted with artificial eyes and placed in a wheelchair. Before his first birthday, he discovered the piano. His mom said, "I could hit any note on the piano, and within one or two tries, he'd get it." By his second birthday, he was playing requests (You Are My Sunshine, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star). His father was ecstatic. "We might not play baseball, but we can play music together."

Today, Patrick is a junior at the University of Louisville. His father attends classes with him and he's made nearly all A's, with the exception of 3 B's He's also a part of the 214 member marching band. You read it right...the marching band! He's a blind, wheelchair-bound trumpet player; and he and his father do it together. They attend all the band practices and the half-time performance in front of thousands. His father rolls and rotates his son around the field to the cheers of Patrick's fans. In order to attend Patrick's classes and every band practice, his father works the graveyard shift at UPS. Patrick said..."My dad's my hero."

But even more than his unbelievable musical talent, it was Patrick's "attitude of gratitude" that touched my soul. On stage, between songs, he would talk to the audience about his life and about how blessed he was. He said, "God made me blind and unable to walk. BIG DEAL! He gave me the ability...the musical gifts I have...the great opportunity to meet new people."

When his performance was over, Patrick and his father were on the stage together. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered for over five minutes. It gave me giant goose bumps!

My life was ready to meet Patrick Henry Hughes. I needed a hero, and I found one for the ages. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget that night, that smile, that music, but most importantly, that wonderful "attitude of gratitude."

I returned to Chicago and shared Patrick's story with my wife, my friends, and our team at Simple Truths. About two weeks later, I received a letter from a friend. He said, "Mac, here is a quote from Vivian Greene that I think you'll love!"

"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass...
it's about learning how to dance in the rain!"

I thought...that's it! We all face adversity in our life. However, it's not the adversity, but how we react to it that will determine the joy and happiness in our life. During tough times, do we spend too much time feeling sorry for ourselves, or, can we, with gratitude...learn how to dance in the rain?

It almost sounds too simple to feel important, but one word...gratitude, can change your attitude, thus, your life, forever. Sarah Breathnach said it best...

"When we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present....we experience heaven on earth."

This is an excerpt from a book, Learning to Dance in the Rain...The Power of Gratitude by Mac Anderson and  BJ Gallagher. 

Isn't Life Funny?

Not too long ago, I was sharing a story with my sister-in-law about growing up in Kansas.  She comes from a military family so they lived in a lot of places while she was growing up.  My family, on the other hand, lived in the same town all our growing up lives.  My dad grew up on a farm 16 miles west of our little town.  He's never lived anywhere else, except for his time in the army.  It was a great place to grow up with my paternal grandmother close by.  Time spent at Grandma's house was the best!  Her only rules were to love each other and have fun!  I loved her big green recliner where we both could sit, eat popcorn out of her big blue pan, and watch tv in the dark!  Somehow, after school, I could wind up at her office in the court house with the big, big books from the courtroom surrounding us on all the walls, the old adding machine (the grandfather to today's calculators, but WAY more fun!), and the courtroom just across the hall.  How I loved to sit in the judge's leather chair!

My other grandparents lived farther away in southeast Kansas.  My grandpa was a cowboy and my grandma was a music teacher.  Grandma had a studio in which she taught all kinds of music lessons and on several days of the week she traveled around to the other communities and gave the lessons in the students' homes.  She was busy, busy, busy!  Grandpa, by the time I came along, was mostly retired.  He worked nights at the Moose Lodge keeping an eye on things so his days (after he'd slept for a while) were free to be with the grandkids (me).  My days with him were wonderful!  We always had to go check the water in the field for the cattle, but before we went to the pasture Grandpa would stop at the gas station and I got a pop and the pink peppermint candies for the road (all of a couple of miles). Life was good!  After doing our "chores" the time was mine.  A lot of time we sat on the porch swing looking out over the Flint Hills, watching the trains come and go, with his stories of growing up in Kansas.

I loved those days.  I spent many of them over many summers into my adult life there.  We got into trouble with Grandma more than once when she came home to see that our "play" had not been cleaned up.  I loved the rodeos in the summer time where my uncles roped and cousins rode broncs and bulls.  What great fun! 

And just as I was telling my sister-in-law about the rodeos, my brother came in.  He is four years younger than me so his perspective is a little different than mine.  He "hated those rodeos--it was SO hot, and dusty, and boring!!!"  He "would never make his kids go do something like that" (but he'll sit at football and basketball games for days on end and watch his kids). 

Isn't it interesting?  We lived through the same events, but our perceptions were "skewed" by our own personalities, life events, and, probably, birth order.  The thing that I look back on so fondly, he remembers as a horrible event and, yet, it was the same one.  Only our unique "eyes" saw things differently. 

What a great reminder to us all, I think, to try to see things from someone else's point of view.  It's easy to assume that we all see the same thing in the same way.  Stephen R. Covey says, "Seek first to understand, then be understood."  Good advice, I think.