The master's hand

Remember my guitar that came to pieces a couple of weeks ago? Tetsu kept saying that it was impossible to fix and that I should just toss it and buy a new one. I'd bought this guitar at a recycle shop for $20 and have used it for two years. Hey, I got my money's worth! Last week I went to a couple of recycle shops again and had my eye on a couple of guitars for between $50 and $100.

But wait. So many people suggested that I try fixing I decided to get advice from my artist/musician friend. Mr. Shiozaki does percussion in a couple of bands and he makes a lot of his own instruments from wood and bells etc. I woefully took my guitar over to his house. I even took my 30 year old guitar at the same time! About a year ago the metal work started pulling away from the wood where you turn the screws (I don't even know what this part is called.) This was another lost-cause guitar destined for the dump but I'd had it for so long that I couldn't bear to toss it. I left both guitars with Mr. Shiozaki and told him not to deliberate over them too much. If they couldn't be fixed I had already located one at the recycle shop.

A week later and TA-Da!! New guitars! Well, old guitars that sound new!! TWO! Mr. Shiozaki was able to fix both! Abundant blessings!! And I was ready to junk them. Poor things!

Have any of you ever heard this poem? I first found it when I was in college and I copied it down and pinned it up in my dormitory room. I was reminded of it today, thanks to Mr. Shiozaki and my guitars that have been restored to life!

The Touch of the Master's Hand

It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar,
Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes 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 up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its bow.
"One thousand, one thousand,
Do I hear two?" "Two thousand,
Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience 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,
All battered with bourbon and gin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He's going once, he's 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.

Music is back in my heart and my home!