(4) The Master Fiddler
During the early days of our marriage, my husband confided to me that it was his childhood desire to learn to play the violin. But growing up he didn’t have the means to pursue his dream and so shelved that along with many others.
I was all for him pursuing this desire because it brought back wonderful girlhood memories of my grandfather sitting in his armchair and picking up his fiddle to play the strains of the few songs he knew. That was the signal for everyone to drop whatever we were doing and gather around his feet for our evening prayer. One of the numerous cousins or the young aunts would try to beat out a rhythm on the bongos. Often times it would be by the light of the hurricane lamp that the old gospel songs were sung. Electricity was as fickle in those days as it is now.
You see, Summer holidays were spent at my grandparents place. Our parents, without fail, would pack off my sister and me to our native place. There we would join our cousins of all ages and sizes. I guess their parents had the same inspiration to pack them off. There was one year that I absolutely refused to go ‘coz the previous year my grandmother had forced me to finish all the vegetables on my plate (every single meal). Can you imagine how torturous those two months were?
Anyway, it was a four hour journey from home and all I can recall are the winding roads and the car having to stop every now and then for me to throw up whatever it was that our mother made sure we ate to tide us on the long journey. I still have nightmares about road trips and am reluctant to travel far distances to this day.
But what wonderful priceless memories those holidays have left me with. I remember waking up in the big bed, trying to extract an arm or leg from under whichever cousin was curled up next to me while listening to the foxes howling in the far distance, the rooster crowing his head off, and the clanking of the milk pans as the maids made their way to the stalls where the cows were bellowing. The best part of waking up to was the heavenly smell of woodsmoke and the black coffee brewing in the kitchen, which was enough to get us all tumbling out of bed.
So, when my husband voiced his desire in wanting to learn the violin, I had visions of the boys and me gathered at his feet singing hymns. I was sure we would be building wonderful memories for our boys.
Eventually, my husband found a music teacher he could train under and we went to buy a violin for him. It was a tedious process trying to figure out which violin to pick. You see, these violins came in different varieties and prices. The sales person tried to sell us what he felt was best for us, while we stood there confused and utterly lost.
Unknown to us there was a customer who was standing on the side watching the whole drama. He approached us and asked if he could help us out. We literally pounced on him. The poor man must have regretted his offer but was gracious enough to keep his word. He looked at all the pieces that were displayed and picked up a violin and started playing. He put it down and picked up another. He went through this routine a couple of times. Finally, he selected few violins and asked us what price range we had in mind. We told him we were looking for a medium priced one since my husband was just learning to play. He would buy a better one after learning the basics.
The stranger looked my husband in the eye and said “The violin you choose now will be your life long companion. The more you play the instrument, the more melodious the notes will be that comes out from it. So choose wisely since it will be with you for a lifetime. Only do not keep it in the case and allow it to gather dust. Place it where you can see it and practice it daily. You will be able to draw out the music that is hidden in it as time goes by.”
But calamity of calamities!!! What came out from the first practice session was not the rhapsody I had envisioned. It was shrieks and groans and whines as my man tried to extract whatever it was he was trying to produce from that stringed piece. Where was that beautiful music the stranger at the store was able to produce?
As the daily practice sessions progressed, I would often leave the family room and not so gently close the door. I even considered ordering some ear plugs to preserve us through the ordeal. Of all the instruments he wanted to learn, the violin had to be the hardest and the most elusive of the lot. Why couldn’t he have picked up an easier instrument? Would have been easier on him and for the others around him. However, my husband has a certain quality about him. He is dedicated in whatever he chooses to do. He doesn’t give up. There is a calm tenacity about him.
And as months progressed there was a shift in the notes that floated from the family room. Gone, for the most part, were the painful screeches. Instead, softly wafted some of the most soul stirring music that would often stop me in my tracks. I would, at times, leave the dishes in the sink or stop prep work for dinner and ask him to play a few of my favourites. And he would graciously do so.
I often think about the lesson we learned from the stranger at the music store that day. I am reminded that there is a unique song in each and every one of us. And God knows very well the song that is deep within you and me. Because, you see, He planted it there. And He knows how to draw it out.
So He fine tunes us. Not refining us with gold and silver (Isaiah 48:10). He refines us in the furnace of affliction, because He knows that His most trusted workers are the ones who have been refined by fire. What comes out in the beginning might be groans and moans and heartaches, but He keeps at it because He knows what you and I are capable of producing. Jesus knows the song deep within us and masterfully draws out the music of our soul.
If we can learn to trust our Master Fiddler, and allow Him to draw out the unique song He has created in each one of us, then melodious notes will flow out from our lives that will touch and heal the lives of others around us.
My hope is that our hearts will choose to say along with the lyricist:
“May my life be a song revealing who You are,
May my heart overflow with passion for Your name.”
~Gia
