Occasionally someone asks how I know I’m making a difference.
The short answer … mostly I don’t. I receive significant feedback that encourages me, but often I can’t really know the ultimate impact of my words.
As a teacher I learned to accept that uncertainty. You do your best and then you have to let it go and move on.
But once in a while something happens that makes it all worthwhile. One such event occurred earlier this week. Please read about it here.
I believe God uses my words to help change lives. How many people do you have to touch to justify the effort?
Here’s my answer:
The Master’s Hand
’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To spend much time with the old violin
But he held it up with a smile.
“How much am I bid, good folks?” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?
A dollar? A dollar! Now who’ll make it two?
Two dollars! Now who’ll make it three?
“Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three?” But no!
From the back of the room a gray haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow.
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the worn old strings,
He played a tune as sweet and pure
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer
In a voice that was quiet and low, said,
“Now what am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars? Now who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! Now who’ll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going, and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, and some of them cried,
“We really do not understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply,
“The touch of a master’s hand.”
“There’s many a man, with his life out of tune,
Battered and scarred by sin.
He’s auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
“A look, a touch, a glass of wine,
A game, and they travel on.
They’re going once, they’re going twice,
They’re going, and almost gone.
“Then 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.”
– – Myra Brooks Welch
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