The telephone rang. It was a =
call from his mother. He answered it and his mother told him, "Mr. =
Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday."
Memories flashed through his mind like an old =
newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
"Jack, did you hear =
me?"
"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I =
heard you. It’s been so long since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I =
honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.
"Well, he didn’t forget =
you. Every time I saw him he’d ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce =
about the many days you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he put =
it," Mom told him.
"I loved that old house =
he lived in," Jack said.
"You know, Jack, after =
your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man’s =
influence in your life," she said.
"He’s the one who taught =
me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn’t be in this business if it =
weren’t for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought =
were important. Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral," Jack =
said.
As busy as he was, he kept =
his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s =
funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and =
most of his relatives had passed away.
The night before he had to =
return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door =
one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was =
like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and =
time. The house was exactly as he remembered.
Every step held memories. =
Every picture, every piece of furniture…Jack stopped =
suddenly.
"What’s wrong, =
Jack?" his Mom asked.
"The box is gone," =
he said.
"What box?" Mom =
asked.
"There was a small gold =
box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a =
thousand times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the thing I =
value most,’" Jack said.
It was gone. Everything about =
the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He =
figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.
"Now I’ll never know =
what was so valuable to him," Jack said.
"I better get some =
sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."
It had been about two weeks =
since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered =
a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at =
home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three =
days," the note read.
Early the next day Jack went =
to the post office and retrieved the package. The small box was old and =
looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was =
difficult to read, but the return address caught his =
attention.
"Mr. Harold Belser" =
it read.
Jack took the box out to his =
car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an =
envelope.
Jack’s hands shook as he read =
the note inside.
"Upon my death, please =
forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I =
valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His =
heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. =
There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.
Running his fingers slowly =
over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found =
these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! — Harold =
Belser."
"The thing he valued =
most was my time!"
Jack held the watch for a few =
minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the =
next two days.*
"Why?" Janet, his =
assistant asked.
"I need some time to =
spend with the people I love and say I care for," he said. =
"Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your =
time!"
[thanks, Ziggy, for the forward]
~~
Dr Bob Griffin =
[email protected] www.grif.net =
"Jesus Knows Me, This I =
Love!"