One afternoon while I was cleaning out my garage, I came across a rusty tackle box. It wasn't mine but my dad's. Dad had passed away a few years before. Memories began to flood back. Not treasured memories, but ones of a relationship I had longed for but never had with my father. The longer I stood there, the more upset I became. In my spirit, the Lord seemed to ask me, "If you were to die today, what would your children hold in their hands tomorrow that would let them know they were the treasures of your life?" I thought, "Lord, I tell my kids I love them all the time and have more home videos than could be watched in a lifetime!"
The still, small voice seemed to answer, "Words fade. Memories fade. What would they hold?"
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