|Keep the Fork
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.
"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.
"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.
The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!'
So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork the best is yet to come."
The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep their fork."
Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share ... being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.
hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he
had just finished a rough first day on the job: a flat tire made him lose
an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one ton truck
refused to start.
I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me
in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly
at a small tree, touching
the tips of the branches with both hands.
opening the door he underwent an
amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he
hugged his two small children and gave
his wife a kiss.
he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got
the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen
him do earlier.
that's my trouble tree," he replied "I know I can't help
having troubles on the job,
but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the
house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on
the tree every night when I come
home and ask God to take care of them. Then in the morning I pick
them up again." "Funny thing is," he smiled,"
when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly
as many as I remember hanging up the night before."