Could TIME! be this PRECIOUS?

Pause a While

CATCHY FOOD FOR THOUGHT:

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
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
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!"