Spoons and Piano Strings.

I was fortunate to grow up in a home with a piano. It was a source of great entertainment and joy throughout my childhood. It was also a wonderful instrument to try play when no one was around to hear. One day, I wandered over and played the few songs I knew and was surprised by the strange sound when a certain note was played. Whenever I played middle C, there was a sound that was not a middle C. I tried it again with the same result. I couldn’t figure out was wrong until I lifted the lid of the piano and saw a spoon resting on top of the strings. I now know it was put there in an unsuccessful game of find-the-spoon, but the spoon, resting on the strings, made an awful sound where there used to be a pleasant one. 

The moment came to mind the other day as I learned about the ways in which our stories play a part in our lives. We all have stories of people, places and things that have made up the melodies of our lives. Such stories can ground, comfort, and inspire us, but the truth is we also have stories that are not based on reality. These are stories we tell about our stories, and they play a completely different melody from our true one. Like a spoon resting on piano strings, these stories distort and change our true melodies.

There’s the girl whose father, determined to provide for his family, worked two jobs and was rarely home. That was the reality, but she began to sing another song, that her father was uncaring and didn't love her, and it changed the melody of her life.

There’s the child given the expensive opportunity to go to a prestigious boarding school. After dropping him off, his parents cried all the way home because they could not bear the thought of living apart from their son, but their happiness and financial woes were second to giving their son the best education possible. That was the reality, but the son believed he was “sent away” and not a priority in his parent’s lives. It forever changed the melody of his life.

There’s the child, surrounded by the praise and adoration of her parents, who always heard there was nothing she could not do and that she should reach for the stars.  Instead of living an inspired life, she lived as if she was not good enough. Her parents wanted to instill a sense of value and optimism, but what she heard was the expectation to achieve great things. It was an overwhelming burden her parents never intended.

Like the spoon in the piano, we have things that lie on the strings of our lives and change the songs we hear. Knowing this is the first step toward reclaiming the the true melodies. Yes, we need to lift the lid and find the various "spoons" resting on the strings. It’s challenging and uncomfortable work, but, in the end, distracting, misleading, and hurtful songs can disappear, and, we can hear the true melodies of our lives once again. 

Two Cottages

There were two identical cottages built beside one another, and an electrician was called to install light fixtures in one. After a day’s work, he was dismayed to find that none of the fixtures he installed worked. The developer assured him the electricity was on, but as it turned out, the electricity was turned on for the cottage with no fixtures and the one with fixtures had no electricity. In many ways, the two cottages are like you and me, and, if we are honest, we have a bit of each cottage in us.

First, there’s the cottage with all the fixtures but no electricity. How like us is such a place? With much time attention and money put toward having the right fixtures, it’s all for show because there’s no electricity. No matter how wonderful or fancy the fixture, without electricity it will not work. I think of the man I know who has all the right toys, a family worthy of a Christmas card, but is desperate for a life with meaning. He has the fixtures, just not the electricity.

Then there’s the cottage with electricity but no fixtures. Electricity without fixtures is as effective as fixtures without electricity.  One needs both, but to simply have electricity is like the man who feels the presence of God but does nothing with it. Endowed with many gifts and talents, he perpetually lives a cautious life. Moved by his minister’s recent sermon, he files it away with other “classics” before returning to his chair for a nap. He remains in darkness, but it’s not because of a lack of electricity.

I believe each of us is called to bring light into the world. To do so, one needs both fixtures and electricity. Alone, they offer only darkness. Together, they can light up the world.

Extreme Makeover

Although I am not a regular viewer, the idea behind “Extreme Makeover” is that they take an old house and completely restore it then give it to a deserving family. The show’s success is due not only to the extreme nature of what they do to the old place, but also to the joy it gives to others.

I recently heard of one such house in the Orlando area. Like all the others, the starting point was nothing but a shack, but through enormous creativity, money, and effort, the shack was transformed into a remarkable home. It was an extreme makeover celebrated by everyone involved, but when a friend was recently driven by the home she was shocked by what she found: the lawn was overgrown, part of the siding removed, and three windows were broken. “The neighborhood took it back,” said the woman driving the car. The moment was sad on countless levels, but it also speaks to our lives and the various “neighborhoods” that want to take them back. 

I recently attended a weekend-long retreat designed to awaken participants to the possibilities of life and many new ways to think, talk, and act. It was inspirational and caused many of us to leave with a renewed sense of optimism. I passed the hotel where the retreat took place on my way to work this morning and wondered what I could do to keep the “neighborhood” from taking back my new optimism.

One of the great blessings of life is that it offers new chapters and moments of renewed joy. Whether a new job, an honest conversation with a friend, a decision to get in shape or follow a spiritual path anew, we often find ourselves excited by possibilities. The home in Orlando, however, is a vivid reminder that no matter how extreme the makeover, the old neighborhood will want us back. We must remain awake and vigilant if we are to keep that from happening.

Walking into work this morning, there was ample evidence that the lawn had grown and a shingle had become loose over the weekend. Instead of panicking, or responding in my old way, I got the lawnmower and screwdriver out. The old neighborhood is no longer welcome.

(If you would like an extreme makeover, please explore: www.landmarkworldwide.com)