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Silver Bells Dear Ruth, I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the near-overflowing wastebasket at the foot of the desk. Staring at another blank sheet in front of me, I waited for an idea to drop out of the sky into my head. Nothing. I sat back in my chair and sighed. Usually I’m a pretty good writer, but how in the world was anyone supposed to tell Ruth what I had to tell her now? Tired of starting and restarting letters, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Almost subconsciously, my mind took me two years back to the amazing event... * ~ * ~ * I watched, a bit impatient, as my mother made her way slowly and tearfully to my car. Finally, finished with her sympathies and her goodbyes, she climbed into the passenger seat. “How was the funeral?” I asked as I maneuvered out of the narrow parking space. “Oh, it was beautiful!” She dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “The priest gave a wonderful sermon, and there were so many old friends with memories to share...” “Ralph was a good person,” I agreed, trying to concentrate on the road and keep up with my mom at the same time. “Ruth was there, and all ten of her and Ralph’s children, along with their families. It was beautiful-- oh, here we are,” she added as we pulled into her driveway. “Thank you so much she called back as she clambered out of the car. “You have been such a help since my car went to the shop.” “Sure,” I said. “Just call me if there’s anywhere else you need to go.” She shut the passenger-side door, and, stepping on the gas pedal, I began the drive home. -- Opening my eyes slowly, I peered through the darkness, trying to find the source of the voice that had awakened me. “Who’s there?” “Jan, I need you to do me a favor.” The voice sounded familiar. It was Ralph’s, but I couldn’t see anyone in the darkness. “I need you to buy a bell for Ruth.” “A bell?” I repeated, still half-asleep and not really comprehending anything that was happening. “Yes. Can you do that?” “Okay.” The voice fell silent and I returned to sleep. -- “I had a strange dream last night,” I told Scott as I sat down to my customary breakfast of yogurt and a glass of milk. “You know my mom’s friend Ruth, right?” “Was she at our wedding?” he asked, watching the toaster intently as he waited for his Pop-Tart to manifest itself. “Yeah. Well, her husband, Ralph, died just a little while ago. I took Mom to the funeral. But last night, he talked to me in a dream. Told me to buy Ruth a bell.” There was a springing sound, and Scott grabbed his Pop-Tart, still steaming, out of the toaster and took a bite. “A bell? What for?” “I don’t know.” I sighed, putting my spoon down. “It just got to me because I don’t usually have weird dreams. I mean, I didn’t even know the guy too well.” “It was probably just some thoughts about the funeral,” Scott commented thoughtfully, shoving the rest of his Pop-Tart into his mouth. “You just needed to get them out of your system, that’s all.” “Yeah, that’s probably it.” In spite of my brave words, I didn’t feel too confident about the whole thing. -- As the sound of a voice once again filled my room, I snapped awake, knowing what to expect this time. “Jan, I need you to buy a bell for Ruth,” Ralph’s voice pleaded with me. “I can’t buy a bell,” I protested, fully awake now. “Scott and I just got married, and we don’t have any money to spare...” “Just get the bell. It will work out. When you give it to Ruth, give her this message: Dear Ruth, Whenever you are sad or lonely, just ring this bell and know an angel has his wings.” I could feel his presence leave before I could get another word in. The only thing left to do was wait till morning. -- I marched out of another department store, more than a little frustrated. I had seen many perfect little bells -- with not-so-perfect prices. Wandering into JC Penny’s, I instantly spotted a dainty gold bell and, following the familiar routine, checked the price tag. $59.99, it read. I was out of ideas. I had checked every department store in the mall. Ready to give up, I was heading toward the exit when I spied another store. It wasn’t a department store, only a little gift shop, but I felt a tiny voice telling me to go in. I searched the shelves but did not find any bells. I made my way to the back of the store. There, on a shelf of junk and broken parts, I found my treasure. It was a small silver bell, nothing fancy but perfect in every smooth detail. What it was doing on a shelf of junk, I didn’t know, but I didn’t care. Hoping against hope, I turned over the price tag and almost fell over. It was $35 -- marked down to $5. Protectively clutching my prize, I made my way to the cashier. “Is this price right?” She took the bell and looked at the tag. “Well, that’s strange,” she commented. “It’s right, but a big markdown. Come to think of it, I don’t even remember it being on sale. Hmm.” She shrugged and proceeded to ring up my purchase. The total came to $5.32. Looking into my purse, I had $5.35. I handed over the money and walked out of the store, amazed. -- Pulling up to the curb, I peered intently at Ruth’s house, making sure that every window was dark. I sat for a moment, debating whether or not to go through with it. Then, before I could change my mind, I hopped out of the car with my little package. Taking out a pen, I hastily wrote Ralph’s message on the gift wrap. After placing the bell safely between the front door and screen door, I hurried back to my car and pulled away, happy with what I had accomplished. * ~ * ~ * Opening my eyes, I remembered how much that event had changed my life. I had never really been a religious person before that, but now I know that there is a God. I silently thanked Ralph for the gift he had given to Ruth – and to me. Picking up my pen, I began to write, feeling the words flow from my heart all through me. Dear Ruth, In loving memory of my grandpa, Ralph Untener, March 16, 1929 - May 31, 1993. Thank you for the silver bell and for the gift of faith. |