http://capturing-your-heart.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-visitor.html
When I was in Romania three years ago, the family I was staying with had given me an upstairs room, and there was a window that opened to a view of the city's rooftops. In the house across the way, there was a little garden in the back yard, and among it's flowers and vegetables, there was a cherry tree. On one branch hung a set of windchimes, and the soft melody they played was like a constantly evolving symphony composed by Tinkerbell herself. It was such a comforting sound, and one that I have always loved.
Windchimes, that is. I remember my grandmother had several sets strung under the eaves of her porch when I was a little boy, and so their sound evokes a sense of wistful melancholy. A sadness that you can't help but love, if that makes sense. So it was that part of me that dropped $25 on a set one day at a little garden supply store.
There they are. "Festival Wind Chimes" (The only difference is the set I bought was gold instead of green.) I remember walking into that garden supply store only for the purpose of buying some vegetable plants, and there was a set of those chimes hanging in the doorway. Their sound was magnificent...much more resonant than the little cheap sets I'd seen under my grandmother's porch. A large air circulation fan was keeping the store cool, and also creating a constant breeze that kept the chimes in constant motion. I stared at them for a few minutes, and the shop owner said "Pretty, aren't they? We've got them on sale right now, half price. Regular $49.99 on sale for $24.99."
I had to have them!
I asked the clerk if I could have the set in the window, and he said that was fine. He unboxed another set, hung them up in the same place, and took the set I'd been looking at and carefully put them back in the box. I went home, so excited for my porch to now be filled with the sounds I'd heard both in Romania, and in that store just hours earlier.
Boy, was I in for a shock when I hung them up. The chimes didn't move. They stood as motionless as in the stock photo above. I had hung them under the eave of the porch just like my grandmother had, but even though there was a gentle breeze that day, those chimes never moved. I blew on them, and they moved a little...but that was it. Twenty-five bucks down the drain. Of course, I realized that the store had a fan blowing them, but I was not about to put a fan out on my porch and waste electricity just so those stupid chimes would move. So for almost three years now, all they have done is hang there...motionless.
Motionless...until a few days ago, that is. I did a little research, and discovered something: Windchimes are actually a neat little invention. For example, the chimes themselves are actually called "tubes". The little wooden piece that hits the chimes is called the "striker", and that piece that hangs down is called the "sail". What you make the tubes out of (plastic, wood, copper, steel, etc) will determine how the chimes sound. Different types of metal will also create a different sound, as will how they hang by their strings, and what the striker is made from.
We're only going to concern ourselves with the part called "the sail", though. The sail can be made of many different materials, but it's important that the sail be light, and be flat. If the sail isn't light, wind won't be able to move it. If the sail isn't flat, it might move, but not very much.
The sail on my chimes was flat, but it wasn't light at all. It was a chunk of solid oak. It was pretty to look at, but not very functional. I had to make a decision at that point. I either had to get rid of this pointless, heavy sail, or be content with my chimes never making a sound. I thought about it, and gave in. I took the chimes down, cut off the original sail, and made a new one. This one wasn't pretty at all; it was actually made from a piece of plastic sheeting. I'd cut out a square of it, tied it onto the chimes, and hung the chimes back in the same place as before.
And....
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MUSIC!
Going back to my last blog post from before: I have worn a coat of anger, grief, blame, regret, and mourning for almost three years now. I kept it hidden away under a mantle of decorative oak, unwilling to part with it because of how much I had paid for it. I felt like every day that went by where I donned that sorrow anew was valuable, and to let go of it would mean I had given up the thing it had cost me.
My anger was valuable. My blame was strong. My regret was essential. My mourning was necessary.
Only when I realized that the oaken "sail" on my windchimes was expensive and useless, was I able to come to grips with the idea that a cheap, plain sail would actually make my chimes sing. The first step is realizing you've endured a problem for way too long. The next step is recognizing you are better off without it.
Then you have to take off the coat. You have to snip off the old wooden sail. You have to eliminate the idea of "What will other people think?" and realize that unless your sail is light, you'll never be able to make music again. What good is your life without the music you were meant to play?
My first realization: What others think about me in ways that don't matter (such as, in whether or not I wear a tie, drive a new or old car, live in the city or the country, or create art that doesn't fit the "mold") does not matter any more, no matter how much I might care about what they think. Only God matters. That's where freedom begins.
I'm still wearing my coat of anger. I'm not going to pretend the problem is gone. Along the way, other things have happened to me that strengthened that anger, and made me want to lash out at others...even made HATE set in toward some people. People who I felt didn't see how much I was suffering before throwing another coat of mourning over my shoulders.
If you are one of those people who may have seen a flash of that come out against you, I'm so deeply sorry.
Please be patient with me. This is an ongoing journey. And all it took was one knock at the door three years ago.
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