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From Dave Tomlinson, writer and vicar at large: 
I remember the birth of our first child Jeni as if it were yesterday. My wife Pat was in labour for hours and I went straight from work to join her at the hospital, parking our sky blue mini (the joy of my life) on a nearby busy Liverpool street. Seven hours later, at around 1.15am, through Pat’s enormous struggle, a tiny scrap of human life entered our world. When I held her for the first time, my heart burst with joy. An hour later when I left the hospital it was as if I’d been on a different planet, the real world outside long forgotten. And that’s when I wondered: Where did I park the car? Not finding it where I thought I’d left it, I traipsed the streets searching, until the truth dawned: the car was stolen. Yet far from being distraught, in the taxi home I felt euphoric. Yes, my precious car had gone but I didn’t give a hang – we had a daughter who I had watched being born. Nothing else now mattered. 
The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard once told a story about a thief who broke into a store but never stole a thing. All he did was juggle the price tags so that very expensive items were now priced at next to nothing, while low-priced articles cost a fortune. The story was Kierkegaard’s comment on Danish society as he saw it at the time – a world he thought which had lost the ability to tell the truly valuable from the virtually worthless. It’s what the birth of Jeni did for me – juggled my price-tags, gave me a completely new take on life. The car was recovered intact and I still loved it but never in the same way. 
However, it’s not just me, I think we all have price-tag moments – some joyful, some sad – when life suddenly comes into focus and we see what’s important. And I doubt it is ever the stuff we’ve acquired that turns out to be the big-ticket items of the heart, but the people we love and who love us. That is where life’s real treasure lies. That said, given the choice, I wouldn’t mind having that sky-blue mini as well!