My Feel Good Story For Today...

My father, Bill Clark, in his senior years developed a love for polishing rocks and stones and making beautiful things out of them. He set up a lapidary shop in his basement and spent hours cutting and polishing regular rocks and turning them into beautiful items. Some remained just polished rocks while others became necklaces, earrings, broaches and belt buckles. Included here are a few examples that I have in my keepsakes.

My father passed away two years ago this month at the age of 91. He had given away his lapidary shop after suffering a debilitating stroke that left him unable to work the rocks anymore. But he had a large collection of his favorite rocks that brought him joy throughout his final years. And we, his family, enjoyed them with him.

Recently, a teacher who is the great-niece of my step-mother sent my step-mother a note about something that happened to her in her classroom last year. The story isn't much but it rings home because of the ending. Another family member shared it with my sister, who shared it with all of us. The note is as follows:

A teacher story for you -------This past year in class, I had a little boy who always carried treasures in his pocket---toys, gems and other little trinkets.

One day he brought money and as he pulled it out of his pocket, his mom said she’d need to take it home—he couldn’t keep money at school. Well, the tears began to fall- he wanted to keep his treasure but mom wouldn’t give in.

At that point I thought of a treasure I had in a zippered pocket in my purse and went to get it to offer to him. As I handed him the treasure, he reached out and held it in his little hand rubbing it and looking at it closely. A smile came over his face and he placed it in his pocket. Throughout the morning he would take out the treasure and hold it tightly in his hand to find a bit of joy and replace it in his pocket.

The treasure I shared with him was a small stone of Bill’s. Thought you should know the story and the joy that Bill brought to a little boy one morning in my classroom. 

Love, Tracy

What a great story. Nearly two years after his death, and completely unwittingly, my father brought a smile to the face of a little boy and dried his tears. He loved showing his rocks to children and had an impressive display he would take to various places to do so. So it's only fitting that even after he was gone his love of his rocks found it's way into the hands of another child.

We miss you, Pop. Thanks for sharing your passion with others who, in turn, share it with more people, even in your absence. You helped so many people in your lifetime of service to the Lord. This time you helped a child feel better without even knowing it. But that was right up your alley.