The Coo-Coo Clock

Once upon a time, in a land far away, my parents purchased a coo-coo clock. In their travels as missionaries to Eastern Europe they often came home with souvenirs carved of wood, weaved of cloth or trinkets painted. On this particular trip they purchased a coo-coo clock. Ornately carved and beautifully lacquered they were anxious and careful about bringing their priced possession home.

Once it made its trans-Atlantic journey and was set upon their living room wall, however, they were frustrated to find the clock failed to continue to tick. If started it may have worked for a day or two, possibly even three, but eventually we would wake to find the clock had ceased to tell time and the pendulum would hang, lifeless.

Unable to simply take it back to its maker, my parents invested some money in taking their clock to an American clock-smith who assured them that the clock was in fine working order and ran smoothly on his shop wall. He recommended they ensure to hang it level and dismissed them.

They rehung their coo-coo and gave a hopeful push to the pendulum only to find the clock dead again just days later.

It seemed the clock was doomed to be no more than a wall ornament and so they resigned it to such, never again attempting to revive it.

Time wore on and other than getting dutifully dusted, the clock served no more purpose than the paintings around it.

I grew up watching the Odyssey of this European clock and when I left for college it was still an inanimate hanging on the wall. When I came back it was just as still.

With time comes change and that change can be as insignificant as a leaf falling from a tree or as significant as a turning of a leaf in a life. I, like the clock, was stale and uncertain, unreliable and frustrating. For me, the time was right to make new beginnings and time--the very thing this clock was meant to represent--was bringing big changes my way.

A good friend of mine, whom I'd been close to for years, had asked me to be his girlfriend and after a few rough months we decided it was time for him to meet my parents. He drove from Michigan to Wisconsin in a snow storm and despite a rather frightening (though minor) car accident he arrived unscathed and ready to submit himself to the scrutiny of my parents.

He was appropriately awkward though confident, standing in the living room, not knowing whether it was appropriate to sit on this couch or that, or turn on the television, or flip through photo albums. He settled for doing what is generally acceptable when in a new home, looking at wall hangings and displays.

And there it was; the coo-coo clock. It taunted him. Hanging in the middle of the wall, pendulum dead, hands lifeless. Of course he did not know the story of this clock. He did not know the countless times it had been urged to perform its timely duty only to fail. He did not know its diagnosis as a broken machine. He only knew it was not ticking as it should.

He stepped over to the clock and gave the pendulum a healthy shove. He then informed my mother that her clock had stopped ticking and he took the liberty of restarting it for her.

She laughed and told him the story of the doomed device. She warned him of the vanity of his action and that the clock would most likely stop ticking by morning though he should not feel bad. It was, after all, the way of that particular clock.

Throughout the night we hear the clock coo the time, evidence that it was still alive and well. As the morning dawned we were all quite shocked to find the clock still running properly and keeping accurate time.

Despite the nay saying of my family and myself, throughout his stay the clock performed as it should. Day after day it continued to tick and tock, click and coo.

It was at this time that this young man made his intentions knows. While hiding in the bathroom, eavesdropping on their conversation, I overheard him tell my mother that if things continued they way they were going between himself and me, his intention was to make me his wife. My mother thanked him for his honesty and I got girlishly giggly while performing silent dances of jubilation in the bathroom.

While there he sufficiently impressed my parents enough to gain their approval and our relationship flourished.

He left and the clock continued to work.

Another day. Another week. Another month and the clock amazed us all by dutifully ticking on.

Our relationship did the same.

In the spring of 2005 I married that young man and my mother speculated that somehow the clock knew and was had been waiting for my husband, John, to come and start the time of our lives together.

Like some grandfather clocks inexplicably stop at the moment of their owners' death, this small coo-coo clock inexplicably started in the youth of our relationship.

My mother assures me that if the clock ever stops ticking she is going to call to ask what has happened in our relationship. It's been unanimously accepted that its life-force is somehow connected to the love we share. Just as it started with the touch of the man I love it would somehow end with the dissolution of that same love.

It's been nearly five glorious years of marriage and every time we go home we smile to find the clock still keeping the time of our life, of our love.

There is probably a very rational explanation for the clocks rejuvenation but as humans we are amazed, encouraged and dazzled with the idea of the miraculous. Our superstitious minds grasp upon ideas and we cling to them, neither caring nor even wanting a rational explanation.

If my mother called tomorrow to tell me the clock had stopped I would be sad but I would not be afraid for my marriage. It would be the end of a silly superstition and nothing more. On the other hand, as long as that clock continues to give time I will be encouraged by it and its significance in my own life.

Just the other day I called and inquired about the coo-coo clock.

"Is it still working?"

"Yes," my mother said, "John cured it. I check it often and as long as it's still working I know you guys are all right."

I laugh.

To me, that clock doesn’t just represent our relationship. It represents myself with the touch of a good man. It represents what can happen to a life with the right kind of guidance, respect, admiration, leadership, devotion and love. It represents my life with John.

In my past, like that fragile clock, there were moments I couldn't keep a steady pace and the slightest weariness led me to falter. Then John came. He gave me momentum. He encouraged me, and with his help I have found new strength to keep ticking on.

There's no longer a fear that the clock will stop. It has proven itself reliable despite its past failures. Likewise, I no longer fear my own weaknesses as much as I once did. Consistency has proven my reliability, strength and my ability to do what I knew I should and could all along. I just needed a little push from the right hands--from John's hands.

No one has to stand there and make sure the clock continues to run. One push in the right direction, with the right hands and the clock did the rest on its own. He took his hands away and the clock ticked on. Again, I think of myself. A good push in the right direction, a good dose of the right kind of leadership, by the right kind of man and I have found the resources and strength to stand on my own and be a good woman with or without him.

With time comes change. With change comes uncertainty. With uncertainty comes fear. There have been a lot of changes in our lives, a lot of uncertainty and even some fear. There will be changes to come. But I know that I have a man who will always be there to inspire me, to believe in me when no one else will and who will give me a shove in the right direction when I need it.

One day I hope to inherit that clock. Even if it stops ticking tomorrow I still want to hang it on my wall as an illustration of what the right kind of inspiration can do for both a clock and a life. I want to tell the story of that clock to my children and their children. I want to tell them about the kind of man who can not only jump-start disabled clocks, but revitalize timid spirits.