It is with great hope that I reprint this story in that you will love this story as much as I do, and that it will touch your heart as much, and if not more, as it has touched mine. And perhaps, this story may even prompt you to share it with others. Remember this always…
“YOU ARE LOVE!”
For you have always been, because you came from love, you recognize love, you express love, and you can both receive love and give love. Remember who you are…for God is Love!
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the
floor beside the
dresser in my parents' bedroom.
When he
got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his
coins into the jar. As
a small boy, I was always fascinated at
the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry
jingle when the jar
was almost empty. Then
the tones
gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire the
copper and
silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the
sun poured
through the bedroom window. When
the jar
was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the
coins before taking
them to the bank. Taking
the
coins to the bank was always a big production.
Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were
placed between
Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.
Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would
look at me hopefully.
“Those coins are going
to keep you out
of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not
going to hold you
back.” Also, each and
every time, as he
slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank
toward the cashier,
he would grin proudly. “These
are for my
son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life
like me.”
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. “When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.” He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. “You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,” he said. “But you'll get there; I'll see to that.” No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me, “When you finish college, Son,” he told me, his eyes glistening, “You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.”
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words: he never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. “She probably needs to be changed,” she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her.
When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. “Look,” she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak. This truly touched my heart!
Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person's life, for better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. ALWAYS, look for GOOD in others, and you will always see the good in the other, as well as in you!
“The
best and most
beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt
with the heart”
~ Helen Keller
Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God.
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.
Please feel free to share this message with as many people who are willing to receive it, and may it shower you with a blessing of peace for perpetuating the love of God that is within all of God’s Creation.
See yourself for what you are; NOT what others try to make of you, - Te Nosce,
I Am called Onlashuk
Beloved Son and Heir of Liberty, in whom Father is well pleased, for I and My Father are One, and I call no Man Father, therefore when you have seen me, you have seen the Father
· NOTICE OF BLESSINGS, PEACE AND LOVE TO THE READERS OF THIS COMMUNICATION: This private email message, document, along with any attachment(s) is intended to bless the reader(s)/recipient(s) with peace and love, and is not intended to be misconstrued to be adversarial or combative, for the words written of herein are for the encouragement and edification of the Body of the Beloved Sons and Heirs of Liberty in whom the Father is well pleased. If you have need to share these things with another or, others, please feel free to do so, for I have absolutely no intent of harm, damage, or loss for any and all living beings that walk, talk, live, move, breath and have a Be-ing. It is my hope that the things within this email are a blessing unto every reader without exception, for I desire peaceful co-existence with ALL!