A Treasure In A Box
It had been years since Jack had seen the old man who lived next door to his childhood home. College, girls, career and life got in the way of remembering the man who had stepped into his life after his father died. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.
In the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past or even to spend time with his wife and son. He was working on his future and nothing could stop him. One night his mother called him. "Mr. Belser died last night," she said. "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."
"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." "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry. 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 was busy, but he kept his word and flew 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 one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing 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, until.....Jack stopped suddenly.
"What's wrong?" his Mom asked.
"The box is gone," he said.
"What box?
"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 ever said was that it was the thing he valued most." But the box was gone. Everything was exactly as Jack remembered, 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. Jack flew home the next day. About two weeks later, 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."
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. It was old and looked like it had been addressed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention: "Mr. Harold Belser.
"Jack took the package to his car ripped it open. Inside was the gold box plus an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note it contained: "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, tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. Inside, he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside, he discovered these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! - Harold Belser."
"The thing he valued most was...my time," Jack said to himself.
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days! "Why?" asked Janet, his assistant. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way Janet thanks for your time!"
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.
Author Unknown
Categories: daily-thoughts perspective precious time
In the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past or even to spend time with his wife and son. He was working on his future and nothing could stop him. One night his mother called him. "Mr. Belser died last night," she said. "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."
"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." "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry. 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 was busy, but he kept his word and flew 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 one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing 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, until.....Jack stopped suddenly.
"What's wrong?" his Mom asked.
"The box is gone," he said.
"What box?
"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 ever said was that it was the thing he valued most." But the box was gone. Everything was exactly as Jack remembered, 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. Jack flew home the next day. About two weeks later, 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."
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. It was old and looked like it had been addressed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention: "Mr. Harold Belser.
"Jack took the package to his car ripped it open. Inside was the gold box plus an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note it contained: "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, tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. Inside, he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside, he discovered these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! - Harold Belser."
"The thing he valued most was...my time," Jack said to himself.
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days! "Why?" asked Janet, his assistant. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way Janet thanks for your time!"
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.
Author Unknown
 | Calm My Anxious Heart : A Woman's Guide to Contentment |
Categories: daily-thoughts perspective precious time
posted by Danny Sutanto @ 5:35 AM
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