The Pink Violin
My mother played the violin when she was young. I never heard her play it, but I knew it was safely tucked away in the closet at the top of the stairs. When she talked about her days playing the violin, her eyes would light up, and I could almost see a warm glow surround her as her voice hushed in reverence while speaking about her beloved violin. I never dreamed back then that one day I would go in search of the perfect pink violin.
A Protective Love
My granddaughter was six when she joined our family. Although I know bits and pieces of her background, I don’t know the entire story. She and her brother share a backstory that would bring tears to the eyes of the most stoic reader.
Since I’m a writer, the kids understand I travel with my laptop. I commit a certain amount of time each day to writing, and the kids accept that part of my time is not devoted to them. We go to the park, the lake, to a movie, and to activities in the area, but there are a few hours each day when I sit in front of a computer. They respect that part of me.
It was on one of my visits that I noticed a link to Lindsey Stirling’s YouTube page. I clicked on one of the videos, and within seconds, my granddaughter was at my side. She watched and listened to Lindsey’s presentation with me. For the first time, I saw the same excitement in her beautiful brown eyes that I saw in my mother’s eyes six decades ago.
My granddaughter’s body began to sway with the beat of the music. Her fingers started to mimic Miss Stirling’s, as her excitement increased. As soon as the piece was over, she begged, “Is there another one?” She was breathless in her excitement. It only took seconds to bring up the next video. I had never seen my granddaughter so “alive.”
It was one of those incredible moments of shared love and hope…a hope that a white grandmother might convince her granddaughter that she can become anything in life she wants to be. Isn’t that the same gift my grandfather shared with me? Why do those who have suffered so much abuse consistently believe they’re never ‘good enough?’
Alive With Emotions
We listened to one video after another. Lindsey’s music echoed through mountains and ruins. My granddaughter responded to the art and music that played such a vital role in my young life. The very things that preserved my sanity during the abuse of my childhood took her out of her sullen world and into a place of such brilliance she couldn’t stand still.
“It’s time to get ready for bed.” The words came from the living room where the rest of the family was engaged in routine nightly activities.
The light immediately went from her eyes. “Can we watch again tomorrow?”
“You bet we can!” I gave her now stiff body a hug before she hurried off to get ready for bed.
The next morning, she was right back beside me at the computer. Her entire demeanor changed when we watched more of Lindsey Stirling’s brilliance.
A Grandparent’s Love
Throughout the trials of childhood, the one glimmer of hope always shining in my soul consisted of the life lessons I learned from my beloved grandfather.
There are so many memories from childhood of Grandpa’s inspiration that I can’t begin to list them all. What I can tell you is that there is no doubt in my mind that those lessons have brought me back from the edge of loss and despair a thousand times seven.
That’s the imprint I hope to leave on my granddaughter’s heart.
I began searching for a violin. Also, I needed something that would forever stand as a symbol of my love and support of her. The search went on for months. I certainly couldn’t afford a new violin, but I wanted to make sure the quality of the one I purchased for her was outstanding.
The internal struggle as I searched confused me. What exactly was it I was looking for in a violin? Why was the search taking so long?
The Moment I Discover the Pink Violin.
My hands began to shake as my brain recognized the object on the screen. It was a pink violin. What better way to celebrate the beautiful woman my granddaughter is growing into each day? There was no doubt in my mind that God intended for me to struggle with my decision until I finally discovered the violin that confirmed the feminine link which binds us forever.
It doesn’t matter whether my granddaughter ever decides to pick up that violin and play it.
Nothing is more important than the lesson of the violin.
In that one moment when I saw all the world’s vast potential light up in my granddaughter’s face, I knew why the violin could very well be the most important gift I could ever give her.
That violin is a symbol of the ugly beginnings she and I share as strong females today. It reflects the hope of a better future regardless of the monsters who continually try to cloud our vision.
I pray that each time she opens the violin case and looks at that pink violin, she will remember that she will never struggle alone. We are linked, not by color or background, but by the inhumanities inflicted upon us and our strength to come out the other end better people than those who chose to hurt us.
We must continually be aware of those things that light our internal torch of hope. Memories of the lessons of childhood will remain in our hearts for a lifetime. That’s why it’s so important to make sure we always portray ourselves as the loving and trustworthy adults a child needs to cling to in those most difficult of times when the ugliness of the world descends upon their lives, and we aren’t there to protect them.