| The
other day I had a moment of inspiration and decided to clean out the
basement. I knew that there was a lot of junk that was just taking up
space and it was time to get rid of a few things.
As I was sorting out one of the bookshelves, I came across several beat-up
old binders that contained photos that had been taken many years ago while
our children were growing up. My wife had organized them into different
years and special moments in the lives of our family. As I looked at the
expressions on the faces of the “young children” in the photos, it
made me realize just how many “special moments” there were in my life
as a parent. The old photos
brought back a lot of memories, but I couldn’t help but notice that the
expressions on the faces of my children seemed to indicate that they were
enjoying themselves much more than I was.
Then,
as I turned one of the pages in the album, a wrinkled old paper fell out
that put everything into perspective.
It contained a story
about an old man who was going through a stack of boxes in his attic,
coming upon one old photograph album after another, much like what I was
just doing in the basement. He was actually looking for an old photo of
his wife, who had recently passed away due to a lengthy illness.
Let me share the rest of the story with you…
Silent as a mouse, he
patiently opened the long-buried treasures and soon was lost in a sea of
memories. Setting aside one of
the dusty albums, he pulled from the box what appeared to be a journal
from his grown son's childhood. He could not recall ever having seen it
before, or that his son had ever kept a journal.
“Why did
Elizabeth
always save the children's old junk?” he wondered, shaking his white
head. Opening the yellowed pages, he glanced over a short entry, and his
lips curved in an unconscious smile. Even his eyes brightened as he read
the words that spoke clear and sweet to his soul.
It was the voice of the
little boy who had grown up far too fast in this very house, and whose
voice had grown fainter and fainter over the years. In the utter silence
of the attic, the words of an innocent six-year-old worked their magic and
carried the old man back to a time almost totally forgotten.
Entry after entry
stirred a sentimental hunger in his heart, but it was accompanied by the
painful memory that his son's simple recollections of those days were far
different from his own. But how different?
Reminded that he had
kept a daily journal of his business activities over the years, he closed
his son's journal and turned to leave, having forgotten the cherished
photo that originally triggered his search.
Hunched over to keep
from bumping his head on the rafters, the old man stepped to the wooden
stairway and made his descent, then headed down a carpeted stairway that
led to the den.
Opening a glass cabinet
door, he reached in and pulled out an old business journal. Turning, he
sat down at his desk and placed the two journals beside each other.
His was leather bound
and engraved neatly with his name in gold, while his son's was tattered
and the name "Jimmy" had been nearly scuffed from its surface.
He ran a long skinny finger over the letters, as though he could restore
what had been worn away with time and use.
As he opened his
journal, the old man's eyes fell upon an inscription that stood out
because it was so brief in comparison to other days. In his own neat
handwriting were these words:
Wasted
the whole day fishing with Jimmy. Didn't catch a thing.
With a deep sigh
and a shaking hand, he took Jimmy's journal and found the boy's entry for
the same day, June 4. Large scrawling letters pressed deeply in the paper
read:
Went
fishing with my dad. Best day of my life!
This
week I want to leave one simple message to all young parents reading this
editorial.
Please don't ever forget to
make time for the most important people in your life...you never know
the impact the moments you share together will have on both of you.
And to all of the
older parents, and fellow grandparents, it’s never too late to make
time.
Do it while you can. |
