I was reading my messages today, and was surprised (and very pleased) to find a message there from someone who is having a rough time of it right now. This parable is dedicated to her.
(c) 2017 Haylee V
Once upon a time, a famous artisan in Bavaria was building a cuckoo clock for the Baron. Being an horologist gave him a great sense of pride. The work was laborious, as each tiny piece had to be meticulously placed by hand to make the clock function and the birds chime.
After toiling for sixteen hours a day for over a month, the finally felt his work fit to present the Baron. Wrapping the clock carefully, he placed it into a crate and loaded it in his carriage to deliver to the Baron the next day.
Upon receiving the clock, the Baron was thrilled. The clock kept perfect time, and the bird's harmonious trills brought the Baron great joy for many happy months.
Happy, that is, until the Baron's niece accidentally knocked the clock off of his mantle while the Baron was away, dislodging a very tiny cog in the process. The niece quickly placed the clock back on the mantle, hoping no one would notice.
Since the staff rarely entered the Baron's chambers except to dust, and none had ever entered on the hour, no one noticed the bird no longer sang, as other than that, the clock still kept perfect time. All was well.
After about three months, the Baron returned from his journey, albeit distraught. His business meetings had gone alright, but had not produced the results the wealthy Baron was expecting.
Perhaps my cuckoo will sing for me, the Baron thought. Its sweet trills always eases my stress.
But alas! without the missing cog, the bird remained silent.
"Summon Herr Uhrmacher at once!" he commanded. "Only he can make my bird sing again!"
The clocksmith came without delay, and quickly assessed the problem. Unscrewing the back carefully, he replaced the missing cog.
As he set the clock upon the mantle once more, the cuckoo sang out, even sweeter than before. The Baron was overjoyed, and rushed to reward the weary clocksmith. Once again, peace reigned, and did so for as long as the clockmaker survived.
No matter how small or insignificant we feel we are, we are all part of something much greater than ourselves.
Lest we forget, the loss of even the smallest cog can cause the entire machine to stop.
We are the cogs, and the world is our clock. Working together, we can become a thing of beauty.
* Hope you all enjoyed this. Kisses! *
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