A Note from the Church Office
I am always on the lookout for something to brighten these days. This past weekend, I found something that gives me a smile every hour and half hour. A cuckoo clock. A 70 year old cuckoo clock that was a wedding gift to my parents in 1950. As kids, my brother and I used to argue over who got to pull the chains to wind it every day. He usually won being older and taller and better able to reach the chains. Sometime in the ’70’s or ’80’s, the cuckoo stopped it’s cuckoo-ing. My mom had tried to have it repaired but was unable to find anyone who could do the work. When my parents moved to assisted living in 2007, I claimed the then-silent clock and was determined to find someone who could fix it. Several years ago, I finally found a clock repairman who said he’d be able to do the work. In fact, he said it should be a quick and easy repair and would have it done on short order. I was very excited. But about six months passed and no word. I called. Waiting on a part. Another year passed. No word. I called. Still waiting on a part. This went on for years. My older sister kept telling me I would never see the clock again. But I remained hopeful. A couple weeks ago I decided to call and just tell him I was coming to pick up the clock whether it was repaired or not. Wonders of wonders! — He said he had it hanging on the wall in front of his work desk and it was running. He only needed to adjust a few minor things. I told him I’d be there that weekend to retrieve it. In his very crowded little shop with not an available inch of table top space, I carefully packed that cuckoo back in its dilated, well-traveled box and brought it safely home. You may know that Karl and I moved into a new house last December. For a variety of reason, we had yet to hang anything on the walls. I decided that the cuckoo clock needed to be the first thing I hung. So, this past weekend, we hung the beloved cuckoo. It now echos through the house – making me smile every single time – every hours and half hour – with all the memories and years that it witnessed. I took a video of it cuckoo-ing the 12 o’clock hour and sent it to my mom. She was so tickled and happy to hear its cuckoo again after all these years that I actually heard her laugh when she told me how much she enjoyed the video. You could tell how much it lifted her spirits – even though she was only seeing and hearing it through a video.
How is it that one small, old object can hold so many memories and still bring so much joy. It’s kind of a little miracle. At least to me. My mom thought it was dead, never to cuckoo again. My sister was sure that the guy had sold it or closed his shop and I’d never see it again. But lo and behold! It survived, was restored, and thrives again.
Like the little cuckoo that I refused to give up on, let us all hold fast to the hope of better days ahead. Days that will again bring us together, restore our smiles, renew our joy and make us sing from the lofts like the little cuckoo bird.
This week, may you find joy in simple things and special memories.
October 23, 2020
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