By Dave Hensman & Rebekah Hensman

Long ago in a distant land there lived a young minstrel.   He would often be heard singing as he walked along the road, exploring the forest, or sitting in the village square. To the villagers it appeared that he was singing to himself, at least that’s what they thought, for he had no instrument, just his voice.

Each morning he would wake up with melodies in his head and words of wonder upon his tongue.  He had heard the ancient stories passed down by the villagers, stories of the Great Father of Love.  The Great Father had created all that could be seen, and all things yet to be discovered. The minstrel would walk from his cottage, past the shops and the people, up the lane around the dead oak tree, across the stone bridge and over the brook to the weeping willow planted by the water. There he would sit looking at the mountains, swimming in the waterfall and basking in the warmth of the sun. But his favorite thing to do was to read the ancient pages spending time hearing the words of the Great Father.  Day by day he would hear the melodies; form the words, and sing these songs in the audience of the Great Father. 

It was on a day just like so many before when he looked up and saw an old man sitting on top of a distant hill. Even from the distance the old man’s long white beard glistened in the sun. As the young minstrel approached he could see that the tattered coat lying on the ground had been the old man’s for many seasons.  The young minstrel glanced down and wrapped in the coat was a hand crafted and often played instrument of strings.   

The old man smiled a warm inviting smile, it seemed strangely familiar like the simile he imagined the Great Father to have. As the old man began to speak his voice was kind but his words had great purpose. 
“Do you like the strings?” He asked
“Yes” replied the young minstrel.  “I.. Well I..”  the young man stammered, “I have imagined a day when I’d be able to obtain an instrument of strings.” He paused. “You see sir I hear melodies every day and words come to me that I sing out to the Great Father. Every day my delight is to spend time with the Great Father learning of him, discovering his greatness and soaking in the warmth of his presence.  I hear the melodies and also the music of the strings but I have not yet had the opportunity to put them together.”  The young minstrel looked toward the mountain with a longing look of hope in his eyes. 
“I was a young minstrel once.” Said the old man, “and I sang my melodies and my words to the Great Father as you do now. My journey has taken me many places and my songs have traveled even further. But tomorrow my journey comes to an end and I will cross the mountain pass to the Great Fathers house.  He has heard my songs all these years and now I have been summoned to sing before Him face to face. I have learned so much yet there is so little I Know” said the old man, “I feel that my song tomorrow will be as feeble as the first one I ever sang.” 

“All these years I have sung my melodies and words, some of them the villagers liked and some they didn’t, some of them traveled to other towns and far away places, but to know that the Great Father is always listening is the greatest honour. Young Minstrel come and sit with me, my last task and perhaps the most important is to spend this day with you.” He paused and lowering his voice he spoke. “The great Father has asked me to sell his Instrument of Strings to you.”  The young Minstrel looked puzzled. “That’s right” said the old man “you heard me correct, we are never given our own Instrument of Strings in this life.  Each Instrument of Strings belongs to him.  The melodies and the words that come to you each day are yours but the Instrument of Stings, which amplifies the songs, belongs to the Great Father. 

The young minstrel asked the old man.  “Who gave you the Instrument of Strings?  Did the Great Father meet with you directly?”
“No” said the old man “I purchased this one from an old minstrel on a day much like today.  You see this is the way of the Great Father.  We minstrels offer up melodies and words to Him, and sometimes they are heard by other people, the melodies and words are a gift so they too will worship the Great Father.  At the end of our journey we old minstrels sell the Instruments of Strings to young minstrels so their melodies and words can be amplified for their generation.  Your day to be amplified has come”.

The old man handed the young minstrel the finely crafted instrument of strings. As the young minstrel looked down his eyes beheld the rich, golden, amber tones.   The deep grain threaded across the instruments face.  The neck was long and perfectly straight.  On the familiar places he saw where the old minstrel’s fingers had danced the dance of the player.  The young minstrel formed a cord and strummed it with a passion that had been caged inside.  The sound rang out across the valley reflecting off the cliff faces. As it returned the sound grew like an oceans roar. He quickly muted the strings with his hand.  “I didn’t realize it would sound so loud”.  The old man chuckled then somberly spoke “Yes it can be very loud indeed.    Up until today your songs have been heard by the Great Father and by a few villagers who live around you but that is about to change, so give heed to my warnings”.
 
Beware of the Volume: “The Great Father heard your melodies and words when they were but a whisper.  As the volume on earth grows louder many will hear the melodies and words and they will want to encounter you.  They will come with a desire to worship the Great Father but actually they will be enamored, charmed and captivated by you.  Never receive their praise or applause”.

Beware of the Man: “One day a man or a group of men may ride up to you, they will promise you fortunes, fame and travel.  They will be able to amplify the melodies and words even louder here on earth than the Great Fathers Instrument.  There is a mystery here that I don’t fully understand but sometimes the louder the melodies and words get on earth the quieter they sound in the Great Fathers house.  I have read in the ancient pages that some of the loudest melodies and loudest words are not even heard by the Great Father”.
“I don’t understand how this can be” said the young minstrel “the only reason for the melodies and words is so we can spend time with the Great Father. How sad it would be if the Great Father didn’t hear my Melodies and Words”.  “Yes” something happens when you ride with these men that changes that.  I have even heard when that ride is over some minstrels have lost their voice forever.  Melodies no longer come, Words no longer emerge, there is only silence, a long and painful silence”.

Beware of the Factory: “These men will take your melodies and words and the Great Fathers Instrument and they will lock you into their factory.  They will give you their words and sounds and mould you into a product, making commerce from the love you have for the Great Father.  Then they will force you to places that they will orchestrate. You will have to run from village to village and City to City with an amplified sound that many clamor for, but one that might not be heard by the Great Father”.
“Is it wrong to travel from place to place?” asked the Young minstrel.
“Not at all,” said the old minstrel. “Travel to all the places the Great Father leads you to but never forget the sound of his voice because the factory has a way of drowning it out.

The young minstrel was silent.  “I don’t want to leave this place” he said to the old man. “I want the Instrument of Strings but only if is with the Great Fathers blessing.  I want to give voice to the villagers, but what if I lose control of the volume or don’t recognize the man, or if I’m drawn into a building only to discover it is the factory in disguise”?  I don’t want to end up a minstrel without a voice?

The old man laid down on his side
“young minstrel” he said “every day will bring little decisions that are big.  Never stop bringing your melodies and words to the Great Father. Let the Great Fathers Instrument of strings amplify your songs, not your own hunger or ambition.  You can always tell between the Great Father and the Man.  The Great Father never promises fame, fortune and travel, for the Father himself is the great reward and the only place you want to travel is his Forever House”. 

The sun began to set and the old man asked the young minstrel “do you still want to buy the Instrument of Strings?”  The Young minstrel replied
“Yes but what is the price?”  The old man took the instrument, he placed his arm around like it was an old friend he said,
“How much do you have?”  The young minstrel pulled a broken box out of his pocket and said,
 “all I have is this broken box.  It had expensive perfume in it but I poured out as a Gift to the Great Father.  You can still smell its fragrance when you hold the box close”. He lifted the box to his nose.
“Do you have anything else?”
“I have two pennies in my pocket.” he held out his hands and continued. “But I’m sure it’s not enough.”

The old man took the box, and the pennies jangled as he put them down in his pocket.  He handed over the instrument of Strings and the old man hummed a melody with a smile.

The young minstrel was astonishment and said, “How can this be enough for such an instrument?”  With love in his eyes the old man leaned in and whispered to the minstrel,  “ Broken boxes and pennies have always been the currency of The Great Father, so play well my young friend play well.”