By Traci Lawrence.
c. 1993

From the kitchen I heard a crash. Instinctively I knew what the sound meant.  How many times had I told my five year old, Zachary, not to play ball in the house?

On my den wall hangs a collection of plates which my husband and I received as a wedding gift. The plate collection’s name is “The Lords Prayer.”  Each plate represents a line from the prayer using illustrations of small children.  The plates are precious to me because they came to us from my brother and his wife.

I turned towards the sound of the crash to see one of my special plates lying on the den floor in pieces and among these pieces, my son’s ball.  Anger welled up in me and a great sadness for the loss of this special gift I could not replace.

“ZACHARY!!!”  Two blue eyes peered at me from just behind the sofa.  Zachary knew he was in trouble.  As I struggled with my feelings, I began to pray silently, “Lord, please help me to handle this in the right way.”  Yet, as I picked up each piece, my anger persisted.

My son had begun to cry softly and say “Mommy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  As my hands touched the last piece, which was much larger than the others, I turned it over and found my answer.  The plate’s title… “As We Forgive.”

How often have I broken my heavenly Father’s “rules” and come to Him with tears in my eyes saying, “I’m sorry”? Always I find a forgiving heart and open arms.  How then could I offer less to my child whom I love with all my heart?

I opened my arms and pulled my son to me.  Stroking his soft dark hair, I rocked and soothed him as best I could and said, “It’s okay.  I forgive you honey and I love you very much!”

Thank you God for the answer you sent one day on a broken plate.

The Lord’s Prayer is the model of prayer that Jesus taught us, and is recorded in the Matthew 6:9-13 and Luke 11:2-4.

A friend, Gary Kelley,  shared this true story with me, it is something to think about.

“Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to  work. After 3 mins a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 mins later the violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 mins: a 3 year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children.  Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.

45 minutes; the musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace.

He collected just $32.

1 hour; he finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a true story.  Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities. The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments …. how many other things are we missing?”*

As I read this story my friend had sent me, it reminded me of a poem written by Myra Brooks Welch, entitled “The Touch Of The Master’s Hand”

‘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.”

And many a man with soul out of tune
And battered and scarred by sin
Is auctioned cheap by the thoughtless crowd
Just like the old violin.

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.

O Master! I am the tuneless one
Lay, lay Thy hand on me,
Transform me now, put a song in my heart
Of melody, Lord, to Thee!

This poem reminded me of Psalm 42.  I think the Psalm  puts the Washington Post story and the poem above into perspective.  Take time to read this Psalm and look for the beauty the Lord is placing before you today.