The Treasure Box
When I look back at my life as a mother I see a plethora of reasons to exclude me altogether from the title of “Mother,” let alone, “Grandmother,” Yet, God, in His mercy and grace has gifted me with relationships with not only both sons but their beautiful wives as well, plus one grandchild. A boy. His name is Cole. And let me just say from here, we are very close. This is a constant surprise to me. There is not one encounter with this little boy that takes place where I am not profoundly aware of the blessing of him and his delightful company. I’m also aware of the grace and compassion that comes from his precious parents, and beyond this, and most significantly – Jesus.
In this entry, I’ll not indulge with the reasons as to all of the whys, for this muse is focused on a good thing that was brought to light in a conversation that I had with my girlfriend, Charity.
Charity and I share similar backgrounds. Our parents were committed to Christ and His mission in totality throughout their entire lives. As I type this, at 95 and 91 years of age, mine are still committed to His cause. Her parents were foreign missionaries, sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with the world. Mine on the other hand stayed on American soil. My daddy was an American preacher. The outcome for us however was the same for in the end; we shared their passion, their vision, their commitment, and their pursuit: To know Christ and make Him known. The compelling fuel is refreshed daily by our remembrances of their success in belief, and our own faith experiences that contribute to the results of a commitment to God’s Word. As we age and time and its economy take us farther and farther away from the values from which we were raised, we pray and are burdened for the future that awaits our progeny.
What can we do to deposit into those beloved young lives that carry our DNA? What can we do that will outlast our spoken words? I never knew to ask the question. Surprisingly enough the answer came in a casual telephone conversation between two buddies just “catching up.”
“Since Jamie and I have purchased another home in North Carolina, we are not able to be with our dear grands as often as we had been. I decided to write individual letters to each of them. Their names were on the envelopes. The text was written in size and style that they would be able to read and understand.” We continued to camp on the sweet results from those endeavors and even as she was speaking I thought about how I could incorporate that move into my relationship with Cole, “Love notes,” I thought to myself. “Maybe he could save them.” Suddenly Charity brings up the idea of how our children could save these endearing deposits. A treasure box.
As it turns out, I already owned the perfect piece. In no time I pulled it off the space where it had been sitting for many years and decided to bequeath it to my one and only grandson, Cole.
At our next meeting, I will deliver it wrapped in paper with a big bow and an admonition that it be used to store only the most significant acquisitions. I’m hopeful that through the years there will be rocks, bugs, valentine cards, and a stack of letters from this Grandma. Just maybe, at some date in the future, those little deposits will be the one true thing that kept him going when he felt like he had not much to carry him through.
Maybe Grandma’s are more important than we think.
If that is true – then I’m certainly not going to let this second chance pass me by.
