by Amanda Dykes
It was this sight that met the Blacksmith as he crested the rise of the dune, shoulders rising and falling from his run. He’d lingered in the shadows long enough to see his Aria take flight on the bicycle, and stayed behind to hear the music play as the wheels he’d cast brought her closer to her father with every revolution.
And so it was that note by note, the Secret Symphony of Giovanni St. John whispered into the world with a thunder all her own: the Symphony that broke the silence of the night.
-THE END-
-A NOTE FROM AMANDA-
Twelve years ago, I sat in Trafalgar Square at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, candlelight flickering as the strains of a London orchestra filled the chamber. I’d gotten one of the “cheap seats”—you know, where there’s a visual obstruction of some kind between you and the stage? But it didn’t matter. I was transfixed.
At one point, the strings began this delicate interplay of notes, plucked with fingers, back and forth, dancing over the steady music beneath it. I remember smiling like a fool and leaning forward in my seat. My friend leaned in and whispered a word to me that I’ll never forget: pizzicato. This plucking, this pizzicato, it positively ignited the music with life.
Looking at the journey of Bespoke, I see its own pizzicato. It was a story—just a string of word after word, moving through the rise and fall of plot structure. And then came the people. The friends, family, authors who came along, graciously alighted into the story, left their fingerprints and a bit of life until it became what it was.
Joanne Bischof and Kelli Standish. The wordsmith friends of my deepest heart, who listened to my ideas, read my words and offered encouragement, wisdom, and brilliance each in her own beautiful way. April, my beloved sister and friend, who so generously gave of her time and her musical knowledge and kept me from getting into too much treble ( Pun.). Jenni Brummet, who offered such helpful critiques. Jaime Wright, for so generously sharing with others about the Bespoke project.
Lesley Gore, and her beautifully encouraging heart and prayers at a moment’s notice. Clarence thanks you!!
Laura Frantz, Lori Benton, Rachel McMillan, and Rel Mollet, who utterly astonished me with their generosity in (a) reading this tale, and (b) giving of their beautiful hearts, precious time, and treasured words to grace this book with their endorsements. I will never, ever be able to put into words what your kindness has meant, ladies! Perhaps I’ll make you each a bicycle, instead.
Wendy Lawton, whose very voice instills peace and hope. Always the presence of encouragement and wisdom in her words.
Natalya Brown, for being an extraordinarily kind, intelligent help with the Gospel for Asia portion of the project. Your passion and love of Christ are nothing short of inspiring, Natalya! And the Bespoke prayer team. You already know how grateful I am for you. You are the heartbeat of this little project, and I’m endlessly thankful.
To each reader who shared memories and ideas to be hinted at in this tale—I’m so grateful. Your stories are treasured.
My family—the boy with music and life in his laughter, and the girl with light and poetry in her words. You are my treasures! Ben. My Beloved. Who gave me a rock from the mountain we climbed the day he asked me for forever… thank you for being my living promise. Mom and Dad, incredible examples to me of a life rooted deep in love, steeped in wisdom, characterized by servant-hearted giving, and always encouraging on this writing journey. I love you!
Each of you, in your own cherished way, have ignited this piece with your own fingerprints, your own pizzicato.
Thank you.
Finally, and most importantly, a note about the heart where it all began: The Composer of our life songs, the Author of our stories, the Creator of light and warmth, the gentle Remover of our dross, Refiner of our hearts, Healer and Redeemer of our brokenness. When a story spills forth, my dearest desire is to find God’s heartbeat in it. May the little words strung together in these pages speak of His Truth, His Love.
-THE REAL-LIFE BICYCLES AND THEIR SONG-
It’s nice to think about, this idea of a bicycle bringing a melody. But while the fictional bicycle in Bespoke depended on bumps in a disc of metal for its tune, somewhere in the world a song so much richer plays.
It sings the words of life, brought by the hands of missionaries who bicycle into villages to minister to hungry hearts. In 2014, through God’s faithfulness to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or imagine, something beautiful happened. The Bespoke project (www.mygfa.org/bespoke) was started with the hopes of funding just one bicycle for a Gospel for Asia national missionary-- but by the end of two months, through the mind-blowing generosity of readers, nearly fifteen bicycles were funded.
According to Gospel for Asia’s website, “Many GFA-supported missionaries spend arduous hours walking from one village to another. With a bicycle a national missionary can visit three times as many villages in a day.”
These missionaries bring such hope as they touch lives. Would you join me in praying for the hands that grip those very real bicycle handles? You can learn more about their ministry and specific prayer needs by visiting: http://www.gfa.org/pray/missionaries/
-ABOUT THE AUTHOR-
Amanda Dykes is a drinker of tea, a dweller of Truth, and a spinner of hope-filled tales, grateful for the grace of a God who loves extravagantly. A former English teacher, she has a soft spot for classic literature and happy endings.
Stop by for a virtual cup of tea and a visit at www.AmandaDykes.com, where she would love to connect with you!
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-CARE TO CHIME IN?-
If you’d like to leave your thoughts on Bespoke, your review is most welcome at your favorite online bookshoppes and bookish gathering places. Thank you in advance for the gift of your musings and words!
-MORE CHRISTMAS JOY-
Thank you for sharing your season with Aria and James! Before you go, it would be such a delight to offer you a gift.
Tin Can Serenade,
a free short story,
is available to download now at your preferred online bookseller.
Two homes in the mountains
Snowed in for winter’s keep;
A river in between them,
A rope tight o’er the deep.
A mother and her daughter,
A father and his son,
A cottage and a cabin,
A story yet unspun
But time did freeze a tin can
Dangling from that rope
A messenger from days gone by,
Echoing long lost hope.
Until a cold November day
Saw decades fall away;
Young hands inscribed a folded scrap,
A missive sent to say…
_________________
So begins the plucky correspondence of Timothy and Genevieve, two children about to uncover a story long-buried... one filled with love, loss, and hope. An enchanting Christmas story laced with joy, God's healing hand in the broken places of life weaves through each letter passed over the river in that tin-can strung from the rusted pulley.
Enter into a simpler time in this petite tale, written to be just long enough to tuck into a stolen moment as you rest your feet and quiet your heart in the bustle of a busy season.
