The Touch of the Master's Hand

Most of you know that my father passed away just a few weeks ago.  I have been meaning to write this post for some time...but haven't been able to bring myself to do it until now.

My dad was my best friend.  He always believed in me.  He believed that I could do the impossible.  He would spend hours talking with me.  He gave me innumerable blessings.  He was my role model in every way.  The one thing that I could really hope for in this life is to live my life like my dad.  I truly believe that he is very much alive, though having passed on, but the pain is still there.  As was said in a very popular movie: "'If this is love...why does it hurt so much?' 'Because it was real.'"

There are a few things that described my dad extremely well.  I wanted to share them with you, to help you understand who he was, what I want to be, and how I want to live my life, because it's how my dad lived his.

The first thing that described him was the title he bore with highest honor: "Dad."  He was always there for every event.  Soccer games, trading card tournaments, Saturday lunches, and everything else.  I remember him holding me in his arms while I cried when I broke my finger and was in such pain as a child.  I remember him holding me while I calmed down after a terrible nightmare.  I remember him spending hours playing games with me, though he was extremely busy with work and his church callings and my other family members.  There always seemed to be time enough for each of us.  I never felt like I was competing with anyone else for his time or attention.  He always seemed to give it to everyone he met completely.

The second was a motto adopted by his company: BIONIC.  This stands for: Believe it or not, I care.  My dad always, always cared.  He could never stop caring.  He would hold us, cry with us, talk with us, and do anything he needed to in order to show how much he cared for us.  This extended into his professional life as well.  I can't even tell you the number of people from my dad's work that would always tell us how much they loved him.  He loved them back so very much.

The third was a phrase, "Namaste."  There are many definitions for this word, but he liked one in particular, "I celebrate the Light within you."  My dad never dwelt on the darkness in a person.  He never let someone's failings be what defined that person to him.  He always sought to find the Light in a person, however faded, and nurture it to its brightest.  He always celebrated the Light within each of us.

The fourth was a poem, Desiderata, by Max Ehrmann, reproduced here in its entirety:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

He loved this poem and had it committed to memory.  He loved the simple advice in it as well as the eternal truths of assurance of a Godly plan and Divine Heritage.  This poem spoke so much to how he chose to live his life.

Finally, there is the poem The Touch of the Master's Hand, by Myra Brooks Welch.  He was known around the country for reciting this poem at almost every training.  He recited it almost every stake conference during his 12 years as president.  It too is reproduced here in its entirety:

T’was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who’ll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar," then, two! Only two?
"Two dollars, and who’ll make 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 the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of a master’s hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of potage," a glass of wine;
A game, and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "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’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

My dad felt that this was the essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  That everyone was of great worth.  That Christ could touch a life and make it of incredible value.  That was the way he viewed others.  That is the way we viewed him too.  His life was truly touched by the hand of the Master.  He lived his life in the most Christlike way I can conceive.  Many lives were touched by the Master's hand through my dad.  More than once I was the violin, and he the grey haired man, and by his touch, I felt like I became what I could be.  His faith and touch changed me, because it was, I knew, a reflection of the faith and touch of the Great Master.  My dad taught me one thing, that I must hold onto my whole life, by which I must live, above all else:

The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.