I pray that the day is finding you well.
When I was in the fourth grade my parents took me to band night at my school; band night is where all the instruments are laid out to look at and hear. The band teacher was there and played a number of instruments so that we could listen to them and see which one touched our hearts and captured our souls. This was where I learned what an Oboe was. I sat there not really interested, my parents made me go, and listened. Nothing really hit and I was growing impatient. I was growing impatient until I heard the most beautiful thing that I ever heard; a violin. I immediately knew what instrument I wanted to play. I leaned over to my dad and said, “I want to play the violin.” My dad leaned over to me and said, “You’re going to play the baritone.” I asked, “Why?” Dad said, “We already have a baritone at home and violins are expensive.”
So I played the baritone.
I would go to band practice and listen to the violin sing. All I got to do was boom, boom, boom, the melodic rhythm of the bass section.
I didn’t play the baritone very long.
I played sports.
I always told myself that when I grow up I am going to buy a violin and play it!
I ended up being kind of good at football, good enough to play it in college anyway. So I did. I played wide receiver and defensive back. The funny thing about these two positions is that you get your fingers jammed a lot; you get your fingers broken at times. I liked playing football; I didn’t like the jammed and broken fingers very much.
Time goes by.
I grow up; I get a job and yes I buy a violin.
The day I brought the violin home was a great day. I took it out of the case, placed the violin under my chin and griped the neck. It was then that I realized that I could not bend my fingers around the neck to press the strings. My fingers didn’t work the way they used to.
It was a sad day.
I placed my violin in a place of prominence, a place where I could at least look at it and see its beauty.
A place where it could collect dust.
I was talking with a friend the other day and they were looking in pawn shops for a violin for their daughter. They were not having any luck. They were getting frustrated.
As I listened to my friend talk I realized that as beautiful as my violin was its true beauty came from the music it made.
A violin is meant to be played, not looked at.
I gave my friend my violin.
They were very thankful, they kept telling me what a blessing I was.
What they didn’t realize is how they have blessed me.
In my mind I can hear their daughter playing that violin. I can hear it sing.
Christ’s love comes to mind.
He could have kept His love to Himself, but He didn’t.
He could have kept it on a shelf, but he didn’t
He gave it away, He gets to hear it sing.
The blessing of giving.