The Frosty Field

Once upon a time, there was a field. In this field was a treasure. No one knew what the treasure was or where it was, except the old man who owned the field.

There were many rumors and whispers of the treasure.

“I heard the treasure was a chest of diamonds and rubies,” a man said.

“I heard the treasure was ancient artifacts from an old tribe,” an archeologist said.

“I heard the treasure was gold doubloons from a band of pirates,” a boy said.

Each rumor was different from the last.

Every now and then, men and women, young and old would go to the old man and ask to search his field for the legendary treasure.

“The treasure you seek is not what you think,” the old man would say, “and you will never find it.” The old man would get ready to say more, but the treasure hunters would cut him off and ask again and again, until he finally said, “You may look for the treasure so long as you don’t dig anything up. However, I doubt you will find what you want.”

The treasure hunters would search underneath stones, in holes, in bushes, in the hollow of trees, in tree branches, and in the streams, but they always ended their search empty handed and disappointed.

One day, a young boy came up with a plan. “I bet the old man knows where the treasure is. He must go to look at it from time to time. I’ll just watch him and see where he’s hidden it.”

So early in the morning, before the sun rose, the boy hid behind some trees and waited for the old man to go look at his treasure. The boy shivered in the cold, and he regretted that he hadn’t brought a second jacket to wear. But he kept thinking about what marvelous treasures would be in store for him if he could just see where the old man was hiding it.

The old man walked out of his house and into his field. He sat on a tree stump. There he sat for hours. It appeared to the boy that he was praying. Then it appeared he was talking to someone, but the boy couldn’t see anyone.

Was the old man insane?

As the sky brightened and the sun rose into the sky, the boy’s curiosity got the better of him. He walked up to the old man and asked, “Old man, who are you talking to?”

“Why to God of course,” the old man said.

“To God?”

“Yes indeed. What brings you here so early?”

The boy’s face reddened. “Well uh…I was hoping you’d know where the treasure was, so I decided to watch you to see where you hid it.”

The old man laughed. “Well, you were right. I suppose I have led you to the treasure.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?! Where is it?”

“Right here.”

The boy looked at the base of the stump, but he saw no diamonds or rubies or ancient artifacts or gold doubloons. All he saw were blades of frosted grass. “I don’t see any treasure.”

“You don’t? Are you sure?”

The boy shook his head.

The old man waved a hand to the ground. “What do you see?”

“I see frost and grass.”

“See how the frost sparkles in the sunlight? Isn’t it wonderful?”

The boy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Isn’t it amazing how God created such beautiful frost?”

“I guess it is, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with a lot of things.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You see, my boy, the treasure isn’t jewels or ancient artifacts, or gold doubloons. The treasure is the time one spends with God to seek Him, to know Him, to appreciate Him and all He has done for us. I look at the frost’s beauty and think how magnificent God is for creating such things as these. I look at the beautiful field in the morning, and I think about how much God has blessed me, and I thank Him for it every day. I come sit on this stump and talk to Him and other times I just listen to Him. That is the real treasure.”

The boy looked at the field. “Wow,” the boy said. “That’s amazing…I wasted my time shivering in the cold for this?! This is stupid! How on earth can frost be valuable?! Can you sell it for money? For gold? Silver? Anything?!”

“No.”

“You’re telling me there aren’t any valuables here at all?!”

“No, but you’re missing the point—”

“Pfft! Whatever. Keep your stupid frost and religion. I’m outta here! Senile old kook.” The boy walked off in a huff, frustrated that his fantasies of jewels and precious metals were ruined.

The old man shook his head. “No one ever listens. Welp, I tried.” The frost glistened and sparkled in the morning sunlight. It sparkled more beautifully than diamonds, rubies, ancient artifacts, and gold doubloons combined. The old man got up and walked around, quietly praising God for everything, including the beautiful frosty field.

 

 

The End