A Ring, a Watch and a Bible

Opening the package, I took time to sit down while I slid the sharp blade carefully along the edges of the tape. I wanted to take extra care, not just with the package, but also with the moment. Dad's widow, my step-mom, found his old class ring, his Bible and the last watch he'd worn in some of her things.

Carefully wrapped inside I found Dad's old class ring, first, from the University of Houston, class of 1957. Though its 10 karat gold was worn, its inscriptions were still legible as was the Masonic symbol adorning its ruby-colored jewel.

He wore the ring on his right hand, the hand that looks so very much like my right hand now. The same hand he used to spank me a few times when he said it hurt him as much as it did me. I wouldn't believe him until thirty years later! Just before he died, I was writing a sermon one day. He put that same hand on my shoulder one more time and said, "I'm so proud of you." Strange, the power of a father's blessing, how it can wilt a thousand other curses and then some!

His inexpensive gold and silver watch looks strangely like the one I wear now. It's a fitting reminder of all the time he gave me. At plays, ball games, speech contests and countless other special occasions, Dad was just there. His presence was its own blessing, even when he didn't say a word.

He and Mom gave me my first Bible. Dad spent hours reading it to me, too. Then, he blessed me by helping me make the Bible my own as he taught me to read it for myself, with both my mind and my heart.

Nursing a soft tear, I caressed the package, my final inheritance. The ring, the watch and the Bible represent the best my father ever gave me, the priceless treasure of a father's blessing.