~In Loving Memory of Jim Wood~
 

  Not long ago, my step-father passed away. Although his death taught me a lot,
      what he left behind taught me more. Since then, I have adopted a new
   outlook.Following society's lead,I had always placed great value on material
    wealth. I spent so much precious time caring for and obtaining these items.
  Though it was a hard lesson, I learned that it is not the material success in life
 that lives after a person, but the love a person leaves behind that creates his or
  her legacy. Like an ancient treasure chest, the dusty, old trunk waited silently in
 the shadows of our storage shop. To me, it was a treasure chest filled with all of
  the secrets of his life, even before he came to live with us when I was five. My
  step-father had always kept all of his important memories and belongings there.
 He had carefully wrapped pictures, cards, letters, books, and other things close to
 him and placed them safely in the trunk. He never allowed us children to rummage
through it freely. We had seen just enough to whet my curiosity. Sometimes I think
 that he kept it closed as a symbol that the past would forever live in that musty,
  wooden box. But, he was gone. I am not really sure why I even wanted to sort
 through something he was so secretive about. Somehow, I felt like I was invading
  his privacy. However, I also felt the need to see and touch and know the things
    that were important enough for him to save. Maybe it was just part of the
    mourning process. Maybe it was like a hug, after giving that last extra tight
  squeeze, it is impossible to let go. I seated myself on a sturdy red crate and ran
 my hand across the dusty, splintered top of the trunk. The rusty hinges squealed
  in protest as I lifted the lid. That old trunk swelled with memoriesand I became
 eager to see the contents.On top of a myriad of unfamiliar items, lay piles of torn,
 tattered crumbling pictures. Each picture was a memory. Although they were not
 my own, they often brought my own to mind and made them more vivid. A picture
 of him at nineteen in a crisp,white uniform reminded me of the stories he would tell
 of the Navy.Another made me recall all of the Sunday afternoons he would devote
  to watching car races on television and the stories he would tell of being a race
  car driver substitute. Through my hands slipped other pictures and trinkets that
  held no signifigants to me, but surely did to him.I found report cards and crayon
  drawings. Near the bottom were yellowing napkins from weddings and postcards
   from people I never knew.I discovered a rusting tin filled with doilies that his
 mother had made. A wedding band and the crumbled, ashen flowers that had been
salvaged from his father's funeral. With each item, I would pause and imagine him.
  I gently closed the lid as the rusted hinges let out one last dying whimper, and I
  knew I had closed more than just a trunk of memories. I sighed and watched the
 dust filter through the fading sunlight that forced it's way through the dirty window
   panes. With the dust, my gaze fell upon a picture that had slipped from an old
 photo album. A picture of my family, including my step father, giggling under piles
  of shredded wrapping paper on Christmas Eve. Page after page of silly, happy
 photos taken at birthdays, vacations, and other moments, passed before me and
 pulled me into the past. I realized that these were part of my own treasure chest. I
 had spent so much time obtaining item after item believing that these things make
 me a better, more valued person. That old trunk is packed away somewhere now,
 along with all of his memories.I have learned that all of my belongings that I value
 so much may be meaningless to others. I learned that I did not need to touch,and
   feel and know the things in that trunk because I was already surrounded with
 those things that were most important to him... his family.It is now my goal that my
 friends and family will never have to search through my things, my treasure chest,
 in order to find out what was important to me.I hope that they will know that they
are part of it: they are my treasure.

  written by ~Amber Michelle~
 

     I thank my God upon every remembrance of you!
Philippians 1:3