The
craftsman gave the instrument to a young couple who he knew would
treat it with love. The couple didn't let the craftsman down.
They played beautiful, tender songs on it; and the instrument
responded with its sweet voice to the couple's loving touch. The young couple had children who played with the instrument too. At times the children played gently, but sometimes, as all children
do, they played harsh songs, hammering out discordant chords,
causing the tender strings within the instrument to fray.
As the years passed, the couple's children grew up and left
home. The couple had no new songs to play on the instrument so
they gave the instrument to a young man who promised to take good
care of it. The
instrument was not happy in this strange new home. It ached
for the beautiful songs of its youth, the loving touches of the old
couple's fingers.
Though the man was able to produce three
beautiful compositions with the instrument, his hands were rough
most of the time and the songs he played were harsh and cruel. The instrument cried out in anguish as it felt its inner parts
slowly break down. Even when the three beautiful compositions
were played, the instrument could not sing as sweetly as it used to. Eventually,
it could not sing the man's songs anymore; and the man left,
abandoning the instrument. And there it sat -- beaten, dented,
nicked, scratched and sorely out of tune.
Soon afterwards, a stream of new players found the instrument and
visited often to play their songs. Some players were gentle,
but most were boisterous, pounding gaudy, ugly tunes, all in the
name of fun and entertainment. The instrument, happy to just
have someone there, responded as best it could. It tried to
teach the players the sweet songs it knew from the past, but the
players were not interested.
More years passed by, and now the instrument couldn't sing anything
but the ugly tunes that had been hammered on it. Eventually,
the stream of players abandoned the instrument, leaving it with its
ugly songs, dented outer frame, and broken inner parts. The
instrument had no idea how it had come to this state. It's
only consolation were the memories of the once beautiful songs it
used to play, especially the three beautiful compositions created by
the man; and it pondered those songs while it sat alone.
One day, the craftsman found the instrument, and feeling distressed
over the condition of his once beautiful masterpiece called on a
gentle man to come and take care of the instrument. The gentle
man took the instrument home with him and caressed its broken, outer
frame with love. He polished it
and made it feel beautiful again, but when he tried to play his
loving songs, the instrument could not sing sweetly anymore. The man
felt frustration as he didn't know how to fix the inner components,
and the instrument felt great sadness for it wanted to sing sweetly
for this kind man.
In the darkness of one lonely night, as the man slept, the
instrument realized there was only one way to sing sweetly again. Hoping not to wake the sleeping man, the instrument cried out its
broken song to the craftsman as loud as it could. It's song
rang out into the night and the craftsman awoke to the mournful
tune. Immediately the craftsman came to the instrument and
started his work. As dawn approached, the craftsman was
finished, and though the instrument was still dented, scratched and
nicked on the outside,
its inner workings were replaced with new parts.
The gentle man awoke to find the craftsman with the instrument and
was amazed, for as the craftsman played the instrument, glorious
melodies rang out of the beaten casing. The gentle man, with
tears in his eyes, asked the craftsman what he could do to thank
him.
"You take care of my instrument as you always have" said the
craftsman. "Caress it and polish it with your loving hands."
"But, sir,"
the man replied. "I can't make this instrument sing like you
do. That is its whole purpose!"
"Yes," replied the craftsman. "That is why I
will stay here with you. I will play the songs and the
instrument will sing sweeter than it ever has before."
And from that day
on, the instrument has been singing constantly, responding to the
craftsman's beautiful songs. And the gentle man listens and
smiles.
For those who have not guessed yet, the craftsman is God and the
instrument is me.
