It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In
fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.
There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his
wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed
through his mind like an old news reel 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'l l 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. Al l 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 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 filling 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 my son," he said.
"Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.
~Author Unknown
fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.
There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his
wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed
through his mind like an old news reel 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'l l 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. Al l 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 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 filling 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 my son," he said.
"Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.
~Author Unknown
Soundtrack: Good Friends
| Dawn Cove Abbey - Panorama Front View - Summer '07 |
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched... but are felt in the heart." —Helen Keller
| Take the time to let your real friends know that you appreciate their time - you’ll know who your true friends are by who doesn’t return this to you after you pass it on. |
| Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. |
Welcome to my world. So many of you continue to write me how much you like the photos and the place that I am touched and
overwhelmed with gratitude. The pictures let me share this wonderful place – a realization of a lifelong dream – with others; with
you. Of course, you miss out on the fragrances, the sound of the ocean and the wind chimes – but I have to leave something to
your imagination. Can you tell I love it, that it is part of me, and that I am part of it <smile>? I shall miss it beyond words.
Ten years ago it was overgrown with brush, trees and weeds. Transforming it into what it is today has been a labour of love. It
took two, working hard, with caring effort for 5 years out of the ten, to achieve much of the transformation: thus many of the
gardens are not my creation; they, and many of the flowers & shrubs in them, would not have existed otherwise. Although they
have mostly returned to a wild state, I try to keep them neat to retain some of their former beauty - so they can still be
appreciated and enjoyed.
A “two horse wagon in a one-horse situation” is an unbeatable challenge and thus like all other dreams, this one is morphing into
something else. Gathering, recording, and sharing these visual reminders, and letting others (you) enjoy it too, provides me with
joy, and creates a colourful memorial; this is too much beauty to keep only to oneself. Your appreciation has made this worth the
trip; because of that, I feel truly blessed.
I thank you for your time.
Klaas+
overwhelmed with gratitude. The pictures let me share this wonderful place – a realization of a lifelong dream – with others; with
you. Of course, you miss out on the fragrances, the sound of the ocean and the wind chimes – but I have to leave something to
your imagination. Can you tell I love it, that it is part of me, and that I am part of it <smile>? I shall miss it beyond words.
Ten years ago it was overgrown with brush, trees and weeds. Transforming it into what it is today has been a labour of love. It
took two, working hard, with caring effort for 5 years out of the ten, to achieve much of the transformation: thus many of the
gardens are not my creation; they, and many of the flowers & shrubs in them, would not have existed otherwise. Although they
have mostly returned to a wild state, I try to keep them neat to retain some of their former beauty - so they can still be
appreciated and enjoyed.
A “two horse wagon in a one-horse situation” is an unbeatable challenge and thus like all other dreams, this one is morphing into
something else. Gathering, recording, and sharing these visual reminders, and letting others (you) enjoy it too, provides me with
joy, and creates a colourful memorial; this is too much beauty to keep only to oneself. Your appreciation has made this worth the
trip; because of that, I feel truly blessed.
I thank you for your time.
Klaas+
MorningStar for people
To submit comments, requests or materials,
contact me at outreach@dawncoveabbey.org
contact me at outreach@dawncoveabbey.org
For empowerment workshops, seminars and lectures, see: http://www.dawncoveabbey.org/healing-circle
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MorningStar Inspiration from Dawn Cove Abbey
Article, haiku, humour and poem contributions are welcomed, and gratefully received
Layout & Design by DawnStar
__________________________________________________
MorningStar Inspiration from Dawn Cove Abbey
Article, haiku, humour and poem contributions are welcomed, and gratefully received
Layout & Design by DawnStar
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