The widget-maker's child...(a short parable)
There once was a widget-maker who secretly thought he was defective…
…he feared this may be true more than anything. And so he decided to work harder, make better widgets than anyone else. And he did, for many years.
But then there was a war, and the widget maker grew old fighting someone else’s battles. He married another widget maker and made miniature widget-makers.
When he could no longer make widgets better than everybody else, he started to think about the secret, and the secret made him scared. When he was scared, he drank, and when he drank he was either happy or mean.
The son of the widget-maker grew up very confused. He was told that it was very important to make widgets. And so he did. But he could never make enough. One day, he made more widgets than any other widget makers in his class. For the only time in his life, his father was proud. He said it to everyone. He said it because he wanted everyone to know. Because, he thought, maybe if they know my son can make more widgets than everyone else, then nobody will suspect my secret. But his joy did not last. He suddenly realized that his son was making more widgets than he was. And he became jealous. And so he criticized and yelled and his son. And then he felt bad, and he thought about his secret, and began to drink.
The little widget maker was very confused. But it seemed like drinking was very important. And so as soon as he was old enough, he began to drink too. It made him forget. He did not yet know what he needed to forget: but he was suspecting that there was a secret. He did not want to know what it was.
One day, he drank so much that there was a terrible accident. This made the little widget maker very scared. Then he did not drink, and did not make widgets for a long time.
One day, the scared little widget maker heard a song. It was a song sung by a very plain looking bird: but the song was very beautiful.
The bird sang on and on, and the little widget maker listened.
He learned about a book which he must read, the owner’s manual.
He found some other widget makers, who also read the manual. These widget makers were also very plain, but they seemed less miserable than he, so he decided to listen to them.
They told him that the maker was very severe. If widget makers made just one bad widget, they would be destroyed.
But also, they told him that the maker was kind. If they said they were sorry, in just the right way, then everything would be OK.
And the maker was very odd, because all that he asked was that the widget makers meet in a building once a week and read from the manual.
But at least the maker had the rules all written down in a book: his father had them all in his head, and they changed from mood to mood. He decided he likes the Maker. Stern though he was.
Something happened inside of the little widget maker when he heard this news. Something came alive in him. A little spark. He wondered — just maybe — if there was an answer to the secret.
But very soon, he found something else to occupy him. In the meetings, he noticed that the widget makers became manual readers. He wished to read the manual too. Soon, he could remember parts of it. Then more parts of it. Soon, the other manual readers asked him to speak. He learned to read, and speak, better than any of the others. And the little spark inside began to wane and fade. Some say it even went out, but nobody knows for sure.
And he decided that as long as he could read and speak, he did not need to worry about the secret.
This little widget maker became a big widget maker, and had his own widget makers.
He raised them much like his own father did. He told them to read the manual, and to make widgets, and to never ever disappoint him. They grew up fairly confused. They learned that they must work very hard to impress father and the maker. But when they did too well, sometimes, their father felt threatened and insulted them. Sometimes, they were loud — they were very young widget makers after all — and their noise bothered their father. He had been thinking of his secret, and was not in a good mood, and what happened next was not something to talk about. They learned to work hard, but not be too successful. To be busy, but not too loud. And most of all — though nobody ever told them — they learned never, ever to speak of the secret.
But one day the son of the son of the widget-maker — who was learning to make widgets, and read the manual quite well by this time — heard a sparrow singing. This one was not quite so plain, and the song had more colour to it.
He sang of how years ago, the Maker had created all the widget makers — in love
They did not have to make widgets to please Him:
He made them, and made them love making widgets, because he knew it would make them happy
But they had rebelled against him, and turned to their own way
Only there was no other way. This darkness they were walking in made them defective
And they would all soon fall apart
It was a terrible secret nobody wanted to talk about
It was like a shadow in their bones, sucking the joy from their dreams
But, the maker had a plan, and had sent his son to fix the problem
by becoming a widget maker himself, he had found a way to reconnect them to the power grid
They could become whole again, and there would be no secret.
The little widget maker was very perplexed. “Why would the maker want to become a widget maker like me?” He wondered? And the bird answered, as if he could read his thoughts, “Because he loves you.”
When he heard these words, a spark burst into flame inside of the little widget maker.
He suddenly understood all of the words he had memorized from the manual.
No, he did not have to read the manual or make widgets to hide his secret.
Now, suddenly, there was no secret. For the first time, a light was burning in the deepest part of him. Where there was a dark shadow, there was now a warm flame.
“I am loved,” he said slowly, as his hand gingerly touched his chest, feeling the warmth. “I…am loved.”
Quickly, he ran home. He wanted to read more of the manual! As he read, the fire grew. As it grew, his hands grew strong.
He did not make more widgets than others: but they were of a different quality. Soon, others came to him for a certain kind of widget. Widgets that were warm, and thick, and durable.
But all was not well.
One day his father came. The success of his son was making him think of his secret.
“How many pages of the manual have you memorized today?”
This day he had not memorized. But it lay open on his bench, as he made widgets joyfully.
“None” he said hesitantly. The fire flickered.
“Really,” his father said, “I have memorized three.”
“Oh…”
“How many widgets did you make today?”
“Just two….”
“I made seven.”
“Oh…”
The shadow was growing, in the pit of his stomach.
“How many widget makers have you invited to the maunal reading?”
“None.”
“None!?”
“No, none. But some people who buy my widgets notice my manual and…”
“I have invited seven.”
And he left. The flame flickering, dying, the shadow growing.
…but the little widget maker fought on. He reread the manual, and saw that it was not about working hard. It was about working in love. He too married, and made little widget-makers.
He tried to teach them everything he had learned from the book: he sang the songs he had heard, with as much colour as he could imagine.
And for a time, the father was impressed: because he thought that as long as he had grand-widget-makers as beautiful as these, maybe nobody would think of his secret.
He wanted to get close to them. He wanted to tell them to read the manual more, and make more widgets. But his son was not sure. He remembered the darkness, the shadows that came from his words. And so he always kept his children just a little part from his father. Just a little.
But this made his father very angry. When his son put any limits on him, it made him think of the secret, and when he thought of the secret, he got very mean.
“If you don’t let me hold my grand-widget-makers, I will reject you. I won’t even love you anymore.” When he said this, the shadow swallowed up the flame, for a terrifying moment. The boy thought it would all end. He could barely move.
But the flame was stronger than the shadow.
Then one day, he decided that a little space wasn’t enough: he needed to keep his kids a lot away from their grandfather. And that made the grandfather widget-maker very, very angry.
It made him think very much of the secret, and when he thought of the secret, he got sad and then he got more angry. And dangerous, and mean. And he declared war on the younger widget maker.
And we do not know the rest of this story yet, because it is still being told.
But the son will find that all of the resources that he needs to protect his children are within himself, within his book, and within the song of the sparrow.
…he feared this may be true more than anything. And so he decided to work harder, make better widgets than anyone else. And he did, for many years.
But then there was a war, and the widget maker grew old fighting someone else’s battles. He married another widget maker and made miniature widget-makers.
When he could no longer make widgets better than everybody else, he started to think about the secret, and the secret made him scared. When he was scared, he drank, and when he drank he was either happy or mean.
The son of the widget-maker grew up very confused. He was told that it was very important to make widgets. And so he did. But he could never make enough. One day, he made more widgets than any other widget makers in his class. For the only time in his life, his father was proud. He said it to everyone. He said it because he wanted everyone to know. Because, he thought, maybe if they know my son can make more widgets than everyone else, then nobody will suspect my secret. But his joy did not last. He suddenly realized that his son was making more widgets than he was. And he became jealous. And so he criticized and yelled and his son. And then he felt bad, and he thought about his secret, and began to drink.
The little widget maker was very confused. But it seemed like drinking was very important. And so as soon as he was old enough, he began to drink too. It made him forget. He did not yet know what he needed to forget: but he was suspecting that there was a secret. He did not want to know what it was.
One day, he drank so much that there was a terrible accident. This made the little widget maker very scared. Then he did not drink, and did not make widgets for a long time.
One day, the scared little widget maker heard a song. It was a song sung by a very plain looking bird: but the song was very beautiful.
The bird sang on and on, and the little widget maker listened.
He learned about a book which he must read, the owner’s manual.
He found some other widget makers, who also read the manual. These widget makers were also very plain, but they seemed less miserable than he, so he decided to listen to them.
They told him that the maker was very severe. If widget makers made just one bad widget, they would be destroyed.
But also, they told him that the maker was kind. If they said they were sorry, in just the right way, then everything would be OK.
And the maker was very odd, because all that he asked was that the widget makers meet in a building once a week and read from the manual.
But at least the maker had the rules all written down in a book: his father had them all in his head, and they changed from mood to mood. He decided he likes the Maker. Stern though he was.
Something happened inside of the little widget maker when he heard this news. Something came alive in him. A little spark. He wondered — just maybe — if there was an answer to the secret.
But very soon, he found something else to occupy him. In the meetings, he noticed that the widget makers became manual readers. He wished to read the manual too. Soon, he could remember parts of it. Then more parts of it. Soon, the other manual readers asked him to speak. He learned to read, and speak, better than any of the others. And the little spark inside began to wane and fade. Some say it even went out, but nobody knows for sure.
And he decided that as long as he could read and speak, he did not need to worry about the secret.
This little widget maker became a big widget maker, and had his own widget makers.
He raised them much like his own father did. He told them to read the manual, and to make widgets, and to never ever disappoint him. They grew up fairly confused. They learned that they must work very hard to impress father and the maker. But when they did too well, sometimes, their father felt threatened and insulted them. Sometimes, they were loud — they were very young widget makers after all — and their noise bothered their father. He had been thinking of his secret, and was not in a good mood, and what happened next was not something to talk about. They learned to work hard, but not be too successful. To be busy, but not too loud. And most of all — though nobody ever told them — they learned never, ever to speak of the secret.
But one day the son of the son of the widget-maker — who was learning to make widgets, and read the manual quite well by this time — heard a sparrow singing. This one was not quite so plain, and the song had more colour to it.
He sang of how years ago, the Maker had created all the widget makers — in love
They did not have to make widgets to please Him:
He made them, and made them love making widgets, because he knew it would make them happy
But they had rebelled against him, and turned to their own way
Only there was no other way. This darkness they were walking in made them defective
And they would all soon fall apart
It was a terrible secret nobody wanted to talk about
It was like a shadow in their bones, sucking the joy from their dreams
But, the maker had a plan, and had sent his son to fix the problem
by becoming a widget maker himself, he had found a way to reconnect them to the power grid
They could become whole again, and there would be no secret.
The little widget maker was very perplexed. “Why would the maker want to become a widget maker like me?” He wondered? And the bird answered, as if he could read his thoughts, “Because he loves you.”
When he heard these words, a spark burst into flame inside of the little widget maker.
He suddenly understood all of the words he had memorized from the manual.
No, he did not have to read the manual or make widgets to hide his secret.
Now, suddenly, there was no secret. For the first time, a light was burning in the deepest part of him. Where there was a dark shadow, there was now a warm flame.
“I am loved,” he said slowly, as his hand gingerly touched his chest, feeling the warmth. “I…am loved.”
Quickly, he ran home. He wanted to read more of the manual! As he read, the fire grew. As it grew, his hands grew strong.
He did not make more widgets than others: but they were of a different quality. Soon, others came to him for a certain kind of widget. Widgets that were warm, and thick, and durable.
But all was not well.
One day his father came. The success of his son was making him think of his secret.
“How many pages of the manual have you memorized today?”
This day he had not memorized. But it lay open on his bench, as he made widgets joyfully.
“None” he said hesitantly. The fire flickered.
“Really,” his father said, “I have memorized three.”
“Oh…”
“How many widgets did you make today?”
“Just two….”
“I made seven.”
“Oh…”
The shadow was growing, in the pit of his stomach.
“How many widget makers have you invited to the maunal reading?”
“None.”
“None!?”
“No, none. But some people who buy my widgets notice my manual and…”
“I have invited seven.”
And he left. The flame flickering, dying, the shadow growing.
…but the little widget maker fought on. He reread the manual, and saw that it was not about working hard. It was about working in love. He too married, and made little widget-makers.
He tried to teach them everything he had learned from the book: he sang the songs he had heard, with as much colour as he could imagine.
And for a time, the father was impressed: because he thought that as long as he had grand-widget-makers as beautiful as these, maybe nobody would think of his secret.
He wanted to get close to them. He wanted to tell them to read the manual more, and make more widgets. But his son was not sure. He remembered the darkness, the shadows that came from his words. And so he always kept his children just a little part from his father. Just a little.
But this made his father very angry. When his son put any limits on him, it made him think of the secret, and when he thought of the secret, he got very mean.
“If you don’t let me hold my grand-widget-makers, I will reject you. I won’t even love you anymore.” When he said this, the shadow swallowed up the flame, for a terrifying moment. The boy thought it would all end. He could barely move.
But the flame was stronger than the shadow.
Then one day, he decided that a little space wasn’t enough: he needed to keep his kids a lot away from their grandfather. And that made the grandfather widget-maker very, very angry.
It made him think very much of the secret, and when he thought of the secret, he got sad and then he got more angry. And dangerous, and mean. And he declared war on the younger widget maker.
And we do not know the rest of this story yet, because it is still being told.
But the son will find that all of the resources that he needs to protect his children are within himself, within his book, and within the song of the sparrow.
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