No, I’m not talking about the kids, or Dirty Gentleman. I love art. I love all things artistic. That love sweeps me away, it’s an on again off again kind of relationship. Mostly because I don’t have time to be devoted to it as often as I’d like. Which isn’t a bad thing considering how quickly the hours tick by when I’m off in that world. I lose myself and find myself all at the same time.
I honestly played the piano for 6 hours yesterday. Oops.
Little Miss Psychopath was at therapy for the morning and pre-school for the afternoon, and since out trip to Edmonton over the weekend I was needing an escape. Every mama needs some sort of escape. Make sure ya’ll take that time. It makes you a better mama, wife and woman! So, I got into jazz music and it is SO fun to play! I also finally learned to play my sisters wedding song on piano, I’ve only had the music for 15 years.
It seems like I am needing a creative escape this week, so I’m going to share one of my favourite poems with you. I remember being read this poem by my mom when I was a teenager. This was one of the things she read to me that had a big impact on me and I never forgot it, thanks mom <3. Because of that I’ve shared this poem many times with my own children over the years, and now, I share it with you. If you’ve read it before then enjoy it again, if not, get ready to LOVE it!
The Touch of the Master’s Hand
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 bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar. Then 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 grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling 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?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And 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 is “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 is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.