The
Father's Son
Once there was a father and son who
were very close and enjoyed adding valuable art pieces to
their collection. Priceless works by Renoir, Van Gogh,
Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family
estate. As Winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, a season that he and his son had so looked forward to, would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. He was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to talk, the
soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of
his, not to mention After the soldier had departed, the
old man set about his task. True to his word, the
painting went above The man realized that even though
his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live
on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn
that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers
before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories
of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly
pride and satisfaction began to ease the grief. The
painting of his son soon became his most prized
possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for
which museums around the world would clamor. He told his
neighbors The following Spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation ! In his honor, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived, and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would claim, "I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a painting
that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of
the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid.
"Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked.
Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room
came, "Who cares about that painting? It's a picture
of his son. Let's forget it and go on to the good stuff."
More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to
sell this one first," Finally, a friend of the old man
spoke. "Will you take $10 for the painting? That's
all I have. I knew the boy, such a fine young man, so I'd
like to have it." "Will anyone go higher?"
called the auctioneer. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and we can bid on these treasures !" The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here ! I demand that you explain what's going on here !" The auctioneer replied, Puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Just as those art collectors discovered on that Christmas Day, the message is still the same: the love of God the Father, a Father whose greatest joy came from His Son, Who gave His life on a cruel cross saving others. And because of that Father's love, ~author unknown,
I'd love it if you would sign my guest book ... click on my picture. powered by bravenet.com Back to Site Directory for more browsing You may contact me by leaving a message in my guest book. Copyright © 2000-2005
Carolyn Springer Harding |