I don’t often post about personal things, but every once in a while something special happens that affects you deeply and you just have to tell someone. So I’m telling you.
I received a treasure in the mail today. My cousin (in England) sent me a small bible. It was found after his dear mother passed away recently. My dad’s younger brother (her husband) must have held on to it for some reason.
The bible is small (about the size of my hand) and I practically need a magnifying glass to read it. As an adult, my dad had beautiful copperplate handwriting, but in several places, in pencil, is “S Bridge” in a childish hand – obviously practicing. There is no date in the book, but I’m going to assume he could have been no more than ten or so. That makes the book from the very early part of the 1900s. The cover is black, engraved, and a very soft leather. I can’t begin to say what it means to me.
The timing, as such things often are, is exquisite to me. I was thinking of my dad this morning. I was also thinking of my spiritual history – a rather odd one as neither of my parents were religious at all.
There is a bookmark. A simple slip of aged blank paper. On the same page is another attempt at signature. The book it’s in? Joshua.
Joshua is my son’s name, and they were extremely close until my dad’s death almost 20 years ago. So close that my son named his son’s middle name for my dad – Stanley.
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