Finely Tuned

I found a tuning fork when I was hunting through a drawer looking for something this week. I got it from my dad's stuff when we were cleaning out after he died - in December twenty years ago to be exact. My memories of the pain he suffered have faded but my memories of the smiles, glances, wisdom and words are as fresh as the frost was this morning.

I wonder how many instruments he tuned by the tone produced from this tuning fork. He could not only tune any instrument, he could play almost every instrument. But that's not what made him unique. He dedicated his gift to bringing out the talent and gifts in his students.

My sister shared an email this week that a guy wrote her... he took the time to share that dad was someone who made a lasting impression on his life. He recalled dad giving him rides home with his cello in a car that was so rusted out that you could see the pavement whizzing by beneath your feet. He recalled his fascination with that, but more important, he remembers the kindness.

Dad was the king of the land of frugal and always said a car is meant to get you from point A to point B and style wasn't a part of the equation. As I teenager, I remember being embarrassed by his cars. I also remember how hard my sister and I laughed when the "hearse" that came as we dealt with his death was an older station wagon. Obscure, unobtrusive but effective. How perfect.

His life still resounds in my heart and provides the tuning fork for so many of my decisions. The tone is true. And is unchanged by the passing of time. His love endures - what a gift.