Alright, before I start I just want to say I did not write this! It's an excerpt from an amazing book I just read, it's called, "Keeping The Gospel in Gospel Music" by Scott Wesley Brown. I highly recommend it to any musician or music lover. It's great. :) And this following part really got to me. I hope you enjoy it! (Grab some tissues.)
It was the most beautiful instrument she had ever seen. The little girl pressed her nose against the frosted window of the music shop. There in the midst of shiny new trumpets with bright red Christmas bows lay a little violin just her size. Leaning against a beautifully gift wrapped box was the treasure which topped her Christmas list.
Oh, if Mom and Dad only knew how much she dreamed about that little violin and how she pictured herself playing the sweetest melodies.
But the little girl's parents had noticed how she stopped by the music shop window every day on the way home from school. And they had secretly put a deposit down on the instrument. When Christmas morning arrived the little girl bounded down the stairs to the cozy den where the decorated tree stood. All night long it seemed, she had wondered if her prayers would be answered.
And now the moment had arrived. Her sleepy eyes gazed over a myriad of green and red and silver boxes. Her little heart pounded as she looked for anything that resembled that special box in the window.
There! Yes there to the back of the tree was a box that could be...yes it looked just like that one in the window.
Mom and Dad both had that special grin on their faces and by now she knew her dream had come true. She headed straight to the box and pulled the ribbon undone. Lifting off the lid she almost closed her eyes as if to prolong the sheer excitement of the moment.
There was the brown leather case and in the soft scarlet velvet lining rested the most beautiful little violin in the world. "This is the bestest Christmas ever," she exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around mom and dad.
"Now we have signed you up for lessons as soon as school starts back," her Mom said.
"Yes," Dad piped in, "With one of the greatest teachers in the entire city. A maestro who has taught some of the greatest violinists around."
"So, we are expecting you to work hard and learn everything you can about playing the violin." Mom said.
"And practice too," Dad added.
"Oh I will, I will," The little girl said with determination.
Dad was right. The maestro was a great master of the violin. The little girl sat in amazement as he showed her everything about the violin. And when he played, it was almost like a ballerina dancing smoothly and precisely over the strings. It was majestic! The little girl dreams of skillfully playing the sweetest melodies captured her every thought.
Oh, how wonderful it would be to please her teacher and honor him by learning everything he so lovingly taught her. But it was hard work. The maestro commanded deep commitment and an abiding faithfulness, and the little girl put everything she had into her practice.
Although she looked forward to each new lesson, she knew he would challenge her to greater heights. Lesson after lesson, and practice after practice, finally the squeaky sounds gave way to a steady note. Finally the fingers danced and the violin sang it's beautiful melody.
It was hard, but it was glorious.
But, of course, all of this was behind a closed door in her bedroom or at the maestro's studio.
The Spring recital was just around the corner and all the young students shared the nervous notion of going public. The little girl was no exception so she worked even harder. She knew her performance would reflect everything her master had taught her.
Everyday she spent special time reviewing his violin book. Going over each lesson and memorizing each principle, her confidence began to grow. It wasn't so much a confidence in herself but more a confidence in her master and his word.
"If you abide in this faithfully," he said, "you will play the violin and play it well."
The Spring recital arrived so quickly and all the young students dressed in their Sunday best, arrived at the downtown concert hall.
Moms, dads, aunts, uncles, and even the mayor began to take their seats in the auditorium. The place was packed and full of nervous expectations. The lights dimmed, and the curtain opened, and one by one each student took their place at center stage. It was a wonderful evening and each violinist glimmered like a little star in the night sky.
The little girl was the last student to perform. She sat quietly behind the side curtain her mind busy at work, going over every note of the piece she would play. Every crescendo, and every portamento was so important because her teacher had taught her every step of the way. She wanted to present her work with passion back to the master of the song.
It was her turn. She stepped out on stage and into the light. A thousand faces stared back at her. Silently she lifted the little violin to her shoulder. With bow in position and chin up she closed her eyes and began to play. The audience could not believe their ears. Although each of the students had played well, something special filled the air. Like a graceful ballerina, this little girl's song danced smoothly and precisely over the stings of her little violin. It was majestic!
All the while, with her eyes closed, she clearly focused on one thing--her master and all that he'd taught her. And with each sweep of the bow came the sweetest melody. Finally that last glorious note echoed into forever as she held her bow high in the air.
The audience stood to their feet and the applause grew louder than a hundred waves crashing onto a shore. The mayor was exuberant, and Mom and Dad wept in that special pride only parents share.
But the little girl seemed not to notice at all. Her face was expressionless as her eyes peered out into the audience. Past the mayor, past her parents, past the cheering audience, she searched for the great master for whom she had played.
Where was the maestro?
Finally, there on the front row of the balcony sat that man she had grown to love and respect with such a devotion. There was the teacher who called for dedication, faithfulness, and practice. Still seated, his eyes looked straight into hers as if he were right in front of her and within reach. For the little girl it felt like forever as she waited for her master, the great maestro, to respond.
Suddenly, in one swift movement he stood triumphantly to his feet and yelled, "Bravo!"
And then a smile broke across the little girl's face.
"And then the Lord said, 'Well done good and faithful servant'" (Matthew 25:21)
It was the most beautiful instrument she had ever seen. The little girl pressed her nose against the frosted window of the music shop. There in the midst of shiny new trumpets with bright red Christmas bows lay a little violin just her size. Leaning against a beautifully gift wrapped box was the treasure which topped her Christmas list.
Oh, if Mom and Dad only knew how much she dreamed about that little violin and how she pictured herself playing the sweetest melodies.
But the little girl's parents had noticed how she stopped by the music shop window every day on the way home from school. And they had secretly put a deposit down on the instrument. When Christmas morning arrived the little girl bounded down the stairs to the cozy den where the decorated tree stood. All night long it seemed, she had wondered if her prayers would be answered.
And now the moment had arrived. Her sleepy eyes gazed over a myriad of green and red and silver boxes. Her little heart pounded as she looked for anything that resembled that special box in the window.
There! Yes there to the back of the tree was a box that could be...yes it looked just like that one in the window.
Mom and Dad both had that special grin on their faces and by now she knew her dream had come true. She headed straight to the box and pulled the ribbon undone. Lifting off the lid she almost closed her eyes as if to prolong the sheer excitement of the moment.
There was the brown leather case and in the soft scarlet velvet lining rested the most beautiful little violin in the world. "This is the bestest Christmas ever," she exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around mom and dad.
"Now we have signed you up for lessons as soon as school starts back," her Mom said.
"Yes," Dad piped in, "With one of the greatest teachers in the entire city. A maestro who has taught some of the greatest violinists around."
"So, we are expecting you to work hard and learn everything you can about playing the violin." Mom said.
"And practice too," Dad added.
"Oh I will, I will," The little girl said with determination.
Dad was right. The maestro was a great master of the violin. The little girl sat in amazement as he showed her everything about the violin. And when he played, it was almost like a ballerina dancing smoothly and precisely over the strings. It was majestic! The little girl dreams of skillfully playing the sweetest melodies captured her every thought.
Oh, how wonderful it would be to please her teacher and honor him by learning everything he so lovingly taught her. But it was hard work. The maestro commanded deep commitment and an abiding faithfulness, and the little girl put everything she had into her practice.
Although she looked forward to each new lesson, she knew he would challenge her to greater heights. Lesson after lesson, and practice after practice, finally the squeaky sounds gave way to a steady note. Finally the fingers danced and the violin sang it's beautiful melody.
It was hard, but it was glorious.
But, of course, all of this was behind a closed door in her bedroom or at the maestro's studio.
The Spring recital was just around the corner and all the young students shared the nervous notion of going public. The little girl was no exception so she worked even harder. She knew her performance would reflect everything her master had taught her.
Everyday she spent special time reviewing his violin book. Going over each lesson and memorizing each principle, her confidence began to grow. It wasn't so much a confidence in herself but more a confidence in her master and his word.
"If you abide in this faithfully," he said, "you will play the violin and play it well."
The Spring recital arrived so quickly and all the young students dressed in their Sunday best, arrived at the downtown concert hall.
Moms, dads, aunts, uncles, and even the mayor began to take their seats in the auditorium. The place was packed and full of nervous expectations. The lights dimmed, and the curtain opened, and one by one each student took their place at center stage. It was a wonderful evening and each violinist glimmered like a little star in the night sky.
The little girl was the last student to perform. She sat quietly behind the side curtain her mind busy at work, going over every note of the piece she would play. Every crescendo, and every portamento was so important because her teacher had taught her every step of the way. She wanted to present her work with passion back to the master of the song.
It was her turn. She stepped out on stage and into the light. A thousand faces stared back at her. Silently she lifted the little violin to her shoulder. With bow in position and chin up she closed her eyes and began to play. The audience could not believe their ears. Although each of the students had played well, something special filled the air. Like a graceful ballerina, this little girl's song danced smoothly and precisely over the stings of her little violin. It was majestic!
All the while, with her eyes closed, she clearly focused on one thing--her master and all that he'd taught her. And with each sweep of the bow came the sweetest melody. Finally that last glorious note echoed into forever as she held her bow high in the air.
The audience stood to their feet and the applause grew louder than a hundred waves crashing onto a shore. The mayor was exuberant, and Mom and Dad wept in that special pride only parents share.
But the little girl seemed not to notice at all. Her face was expressionless as her eyes peered out into the audience. Past the mayor, past her parents, past the cheering audience, she searched for the great master for whom she had played.
Where was the maestro?
Finally, there on the front row of the balcony sat that man she had grown to love and respect with such a devotion. There was the teacher who called for dedication, faithfulness, and practice. Still seated, his eyes looked straight into hers as if he were right in front of her and within reach. For the little girl it felt like forever as she waited for her master, the great maestro, to respond.
Suddenly, in one swift movement he stood triumphantly to his feet and yelled, "Bravo!"
And then a smile broke across the little girl's face.
"And then the Lord said, 'Well done good and faithful servant'" (Matthew 25:21)
Wow! So true :D.
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