Tales of Sweet William: Love Looks Like a Pocket Knife

My Dear Children,

Bill was working for a large electrical corporation in Atlanta when he first met Jim Gallagher, the owner of Gallagher Electric and Engineering. Both companies were working in adjacent areas at the same location, and on that day there was a crisis at the Gallagher site. During the course of his workday, Bill became aware of the problem. Once he was off the clock, your dad approached Mr. Gallagher and offered to fix it at no charge. Bill was confident that he possessed the necessary skills to make the repair and felt it was the right thing to do. He loved helping people.

It only took your dad a few minutes to get everything up and running again. Afterward, Jim Gallagher gave him a business card, a one hundred dollar bill and one of his signature Gallagher Electric pocket knives as a thank you. Then he spoke these words, "Son, if you ever need a job you just give me a call."

Months later, your dad refused to take a dishonest shortcut for the other company, even though he believed his integrity might cost him his job. A few weeks later he was laid off. Over the weekend, Bill calmly took that business card out of his jewelry box on the dresser and made the call. On Monday, he went to work for Jim Gallagher and never looked back. 

Bill stayed with "Mr. Jim" until the day he died. Your dad's loyalty was unwavering, and Mr. Jim's care of our family exceeded our expectations. He gave Bill time off with pay when members of our family faced health challenges, kept him on the payroll during the economic downturn of 2001, and often gave him unexpected bonuses for a job well done.

Fifteen years have passed since Daddy's death. Most of his personal belongings have now been handed down to you children. At some point along the way, however, Bill's original Gallagher knife was misplaced. 

Last year, when my husband-to-be (also a Jim) and I were packing up in preparation for the sale of my house in Acworth, I came across your dad's work knife in a storage box. The leather case had rotted, and the knife was tarnished and covered with green mold. I lingered over it for a few moments and then set it back in the box. Without saying a word, Jim picked it up and tucked it away.

Fast forward to this morning, Christmas Day 2016. Our family has gathered together and is exchanging gifts with traditional merriment and goodwill. All of this is about to change, however. Moments before he hands a small box to Ethan, my husband leans over to me and quietly explains what I am about to see, so I won't be caught completely off guard. Tears spring to my eyes and begin rolling down my cheeks.

Ethan unwraps his present from Jim and opens the box. Inside is a beautiful leather knife case. Since knives are a common gift in our family, no one is anticipating anything out of the ordinary. Ethan then lifts the flap to reach inside... and draws out his dad's work knife. Though it is worn with age and years of use, it is shiny and clean and looks like Bill just set it down for a moment.

"Dad's knife..." Ethan whispers, eyes filling with tears.

Suddenly there is not a dry eye in the room. "How is this possible?" Ethan asks in awe. Jim tells the story of restoring the knife and waiting until just the right moment to give it to him. All of us girls are openly crying at this point, and a Kleenex box begins making the rounds.

Ethan stands up to give Jim a bear hug. Thank you so much," he says in a voice choked with emotion. "I've always wanted something special that belonged to my dad."

Today something extraordinary happened in our family. It was as though the mantle of compassionate leadership visibly fell into place upon the shoulders of Jim Heinz. This man has been behind the scenes for months tirelessly encouraging, helping, counseling, and praying over you children, but this act of kindness was huge. Whether our appreciation has been private or public, each of us has been gradually acknowledging that our family is a better, healthier, happier unit because Jim is part of our lives. Today's act, however, crystallized those feelings.

In Christian circles, the concept of love languages is a familiar one. It is the manner in which each of us most easily expresses and receives love. Mine is words of affirmation. Your dad's predominant love language was acts of service. I've only recently understood that Jim's primary love language is also acts of service. It took me a while to figure this out because he expresses all the other languages so well.

An ordinary man might feel threatened by the memories of a good husband and father, but Jim Heinz does not. He celebrates stories of Bill O'Hara with all of us and looks for specific ways to affirm each of you children as you navigate through adulthood. He is accomplishing this in a manner much like your own father might have done: by observation, preparation, and service. This is because of Jim's faith in Christ and his desire to be a servant leader to our family.

I've been blessed to know two great men in my life. One is now gone, but the other is walking alongside me by faith and gently bridging the present with Eternity. For this, I will always be grateful.

Merry Christmas with love,

Mom