Found Treasure

I veered left at the fork in the road in front of the Stockton Presbyterian Church and continued north on Highway 59 toward the water tower. Gravel pinged against the underbelly of the car and crunched beneath the tires as we turned left off the highway onto the half-mile lane to Lillie’s hundred-year-old, white-board farmhouse.  Late August dust boiled behind us and drifted across the fields, depositing a sandy haze on tall grass that would soon be cut for hay. Lillie was waiting on the front porch when we slowed to a stop at the front gate. Tara had requested the detour through the north Baldwin County community of Stockton, Alabama, on the way home from our girl’s trip to the beach.  She wanted to see her grandmother.

 “Come on in,” said Lillie. “I have something for you.”

Lillie dumped onto the bed a treasure box full of costume jewelry with garish plastic “stones” set in every non-precious metal known to womankind. 

“Help yourself. Bubby would want you to have them," she said, referring to her older sister who died the previous month. "None of it is real. I kept her good stuff." 

“I wonder if Aunt Bubby got her wish,” Tara had asked when I called to tell her of Bubby’s passing. Tara knew Bubby's idea of heaven was a stiff drink and a good smoke, two addictions begrudgingly relinquished in this world.

“When I die,” Bubby said. “I hope Saint Peter meets me at the pearly gates with a martini in one hand and an unfiltered Camel in the other!” 


Unfiltered Camels were actually Bubby's nod to healthy living. She much preferred Picayunes with enough nicotine that one cigarette before breakfast could keep a pack-a-day smoker of a milder brand satisfied until mid-afternoon.

At four feet eleven, Bubby was an inch shorter than Tara. Diminutive statures were not all they shared. Both had spunky personalities and quirky senses of humor.

“I want these!” Tara cried holding to her ears a pair of four-inch-long brass Buddha earrings that hung to her shoulders.  “And these!”  she said raising a pair of earrings that were exact replicas of antique lanterns.  Tara checked to see if they would glow in the dark.  Her younger sister Brynnan poked the remaining pile with one finger as if it might crawl off.

Tara teased from a tangled chain a gold-colored brooch shaped like a giant safety pin with yellowed pearls strung along the back leg. She rubbed the pearls against her teeth.

“Lillie, you should have these,” she said handing the pin to her grandmother.  “They’re real.”

Brynnan and I glanced at each other. I don't know about Brynnan, but I wouldn't have wanted to admit I might have kept the brooch and said nothing.

The screen door banged shut behind us. With treasures in hand, we stepped across the painted boards of the covered front porch to take our leave and say our goodbyes to Lillie. We were almost at the steps before Lillie asked the question I hoped would not be spoken.  


“Have you found my beads?” 

Tara stiffened.  It had been years since she took Lillie’s necklace to restring and lost it in the process. In spite of multiple searches and many times confessing there was no hope of recovering the beads, Lillie never failed to inquire if they had been located. I felt a flush of motherly protectiveness at the subject being raised again, knowing how badly Tara felt about losing them, and was formulating a response in her defense, when Lillie put an arm around Tara’s shoulders.

“What would you say if we just chalked that off as a lesson learned--for both of us?” she said gently.

Tara smiled. They hugged, and in one simple moment of healing grace on the last day they were to be together, years of tension over something as insignificant as lost beads dissolved and floated away.


I could see Lillie in the rear view mirror as we drove down the lane. She stood on the porch watching after us until we were no longer in sight. 

I discovered the Buddha earrings and the lantern earrings in Tara's belongings after she died amid other treasured keepsakes. No one but Tara or Aunt Bubby would have the courage to wear them, but I can’t throw them away.  They make me smile.

Months later, I was sitting with Lillie in her kitchen when I happened to mention I had found them.

“Did you find my beads?” she asked.

I could almost hear Tara laughing. 

Reflections:


“Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace.”~ Buddha 


"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." ~Ephesians 4:32

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." ~Leo Buscaglia 


“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).


--Are there unresolved issues--small or large--that exist between someone I care about and me? 
--Where might I extend a hand of peace? Do healing words need to be spoken? Is there something I could let go of?
--Where is my heart? What do I value most?  What is my treasure?

Practice:
*Make a list of the "treasures" in your life.  They may be physical in nature, treasured memories, or something you call blessings. 


*Keep a gratitude journal.  Every day write down five things for which you are grateful. Be sure to name the blessings of each day. See how your "noticing" changes over time.