MY POT OF GOLD

by CHARLES ROBEY
(MOODY AL USA)

PROLOGUE

I remember growing up as a mere lad, reading those simple children’s books, the ones containing more pictures than words. Did you read such stories, or was it your parents' bedtime duty?

Did you put yourself into the story? Did you tear up a bit occasionally? Did you write it off as simply make-believe? Or maybe you decided to grab your coloring crayons and draw in your own illustrations.

I may be in the sunset of life, but I remember those occasions rather well. To brag a bit, I not only liked the book's art work, but I seem to recall learning to read at an unusually young age. In fact, I would often take control by reading to my parents, stumbling a bit as I went along.

My parents always seemed to be enjoying this time together. In fact, as I recall on occasion, as I would stumble through the reading, Dad would slip off into a dreamland of his own. Well, as they say, whomever they may be, those were the good ole days, when we kids were kids and our parents were real adults.

Yes, just go back in time, to that blessed life style. Maybe it could so happen, but only in a dream, I suspect. Anyway, how could it have happened to me, of all people, a well-respected professor? I’ve always doubted the unknown, except what I could intelligently reason. A dream, for me, was certainly out of the question. It happened, nevertheless, when I dreamed the dream of dreams.

I suppose you’ll remember the childhood fable of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, so this little story will probably bring back a few memories. It's entitled “My Pot of Gold.”

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (I Cor 13:11)

I was safe at home relaxing to the tune of a good book, when an unexpected lightning and thunderstorm blew up out of nowhere, seeming to bounce off my man cave walls. I quickly moved over to close the window, and that was the last I remember. I was swiftly pushed into another of my dream worlds.

I found myself completely without warning strolling around the city library’s Juvenile section. By some divine direction there, sitting all alone on the shelf was my long-forgotten childhood favorite. Time had taken its toll; the book was somewhat the worse for wear. The cover picture had been rubbed out, but the wording was still somewhat readable. I picked up the book and began to read.

By some miracle, I found myself there. I was in the book living it up in vivid, colorful detail. Instantly the book came to life.

'Once upon a time, in a country far beyond time, lived a poor wretched farmer. His wealth was contained within his sparsely kept garden.' It was a steamy hot summer day; I was plum tuckered out as I continued tending to my garden.

I had pulled up most of the vegetables and was working on the last bunch, when I heard a weird cry coming seemingly from within the roots. There he was, a little green leprechaun tangled and dangling within the roots. Upon seeing me, he began crying out piteously, promising me one wish in exchange for his freedom.

But I could not decide on just one single wish. As I mulled over my wish list aloud, it seemed to unnerve the little fellow. Dismayed by my greed, he told me that I could have all the wishes I wanted, if I could only find his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

After being untangled, and giving me a mischievous wink, this little leprechaun quickly left. Laughing as he moved out of sight, he left me on my own to ponder his pot of gold.

Did it happen? Did I find the pot of gold? I’ll never know, as my dream instantly concluded. It was all over. I had left my favorite childhood book behind, returning back to comfortable ease in my man cove. I was sitting quietly in my old, faded green recliner, searching my mind for a good, inspiring book to read.

By some divine miracle, my attention was drawn to my wall bookshelf and behold, one book stood out among all the rest, as if it was saying, “Pick me up and read, please.” Which book was it? Go ahead and guess. I’ll wait.

EPILOGUE

I trust you enjoyed this short bit of fictional musing as well as I did in its writing. Did you glean out the main plot? Well, I hope you will enjoy this closing excerpt taken from the internet.

“In the pursuit for our dreams, we can become so occupied with our tasks or to-do items that we miss out on the colors, sensations and experiences that the present moment brings. We forget to “smell the roses.” Over time, we wonder why life seems to be such a drag, robbed of joy and void of delight in the simplest of things.

Many of us chase after our dreams, hoping to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The rainbow represents our hope for a bolder and more brilliant future. It forms a beautiful arch across the sky. Yet, it also appears to be beyond reach. Well, going for our dreams is great! I support the idea very much. It’s important to have dreams, to eventually manifest our heart’s desires. However, the road to success may be paved with major difficulties….or even everyday challenges and times when life seems just like all work.” (evelynlim.com)

Remember! Don’t miss the beautiful colors of the rainbow while searching for that pot of gold.” Anonymous

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”(Jeremiah 29:11-13)