Its Christmas Eve, and closing time for shops.
Rays old-clock shop is still open.
Two shoppers call at this late hour.
CHRISTMAS Eve had arrived. As last-minute shoppers were
going home, a thick, white sheet of snow lay over Salt Lake
City, USA. Yet the lights were still burning in the old-clock
shop, as Ray, its old, deaf owner, worked on a clock he had
sold that day.
Having finished his work, Ray stood up and was on his
way to the back room when a cold rush of air from the front
door hit the back of his neck.
He turned to meet a last-minute shopper, but his old, wise
eyes told him that this was not a shopper. He saw two men,
one in his twenties, the other closer to fifty. The younger man
remained at the door. The older man approached the counter
with no sign of friendliness in his eyes. Ray was able to hide
his growing fear as he slowly pushed a notepad and a pencil
across the counter.
He smiled at the unfriendly face, then pointed to his ears
and shook his head from side to side. A quick look of surprise
changed the man's face as he studied the notepad, then
turned and said something to his friend.
Ray used the chance to look closely at the man, paying
attention to the shape of a gun and a restless hand in the
man's right coat-pocket. Anger boiled within him, but it was
kept down by an inner voice that said, Be still. He wrote on
the notepad, "May I help you?" For the first time the older
man looked directly at Ray and smiled. A cruel, mocking smile.
They both understood why he was there, why his friend
remained at the door. They looked like men who were down
on their luck, and were now ready to try something they would
later be sorry about.
Ray knows that his visitors are in need.
He accepts an old watch in exchange for a good sum of money.
The message of peace and goodwill spreads everywhere as the old
clocks chime Merry Christmas.
The clocks ticked on. Ray calmly wrote another message.
"Have you come to pick up a clock or watch?" Then he
pointed to the 'loan' board filled with hanging clocks and
pocket watches. He was not a pawnbroker, but at the same
time couldn't say 'No' to the needy people who placed their
old watches or clocks before him for anything they could get.
He loaned more than he should. They would be there when
the owners wanted them back ... at the same price he had
paid, with no interest.
Then the older man seemed to feel a little easier, took out
his hand from his pocket and quickly looked at the watch on
his wrist. "How much will you give me for this?" the
Ray noticed a little shame in the grey eyes looking at him.
The watch was nothing special and yet had great powers. It
was something to exchange, a way out of a bad situation.
Knowing that great need had brought the man to his shop in
the first place, Ray asked, "How much do you need for it?"
The reply came back on the notepad: "Whatever it's worth."
Ray reached into his cash-box, pulled out a fifty-dollar
note and passed it into the man's hand. As they shook hands,
Ray looked into the man's eyes; they seemed to say, "Thank
you!" They both knew the watch wasn't worth that much.
Before turning to leave, the man wrote, "I will be back to pick
it up as soon as I can. Merry Christmas!"
The little story ended on the half hour with the clocks
striking all together. The timepieces, which had been looking
on silently all the while, rang out the time with such feeling
that even Ray thought he could hear them. Their sweet,
musical message was filled with hope. The timeless message
of 'Peace on earth, goodwill towards all' was felt by the three
men who stood in the old-clock shop.
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