Treasure, Nevertheless

A saying by Albertina Walker many of us taped to our mirrors years ago or tacked to our bulletin boards says: “Be patient with me please. God is not finished with me.”

Those words came to me as I was remembering the day Charles and I were digging and came upon a very unusual quarry.

We were digging one spring day in a lily bed near the back door of our 150-year-old log house. The lilies needed dividing and resetting. At first when one of us struck something hard under the surface we thought it was a rock even though Grady County does not claim to be rocky. (I have looked in vain for interesting small rocks to use in children’s crafts.) Still, what else could it be? When we realized that over an area of several feet we were hitting something hard, something level, I began to get excited.

“Maybe it’s a big treasure chest,” I exclaimed, “something buried before the Civil War, maybe silver, ancient relics, maybe even gold medallions!”

We dug harder, striking again and again this very hard, wide something. Surely it was treasure of some kind. Charles wasn’t completely enthusiastic, always approaching everything with a practical viewpoint. Whoever living in south Georgia in the 1850’s would have even possessed silver and gold? But even he began to get curious as we uncovered more and more of a rusty metal surface.

Finally we exposed the very edges of this curious object, not smooth edges, no old lock or hinges, not a square box but a circular object about 4″ across. The edges all around were spiky with sharp teeth. “An old circular saw blade,” Charles said with a touch of awe in his voice.

After we’d wrestled the thing out of its place we discovered an open boxed-in cavity underneath and could only surmise it was a grease trap for this old house whose kitchen had been converted and even moved more than once. The saw blade had been “recycled” as a cover for the grease trap. “Smart thinking,” remarked Charles who then began to speculate about how old the blade might be and its life before burial. He leaned it up against the rugged wall of an old shed left over from farm days and showed it off proudly to everyone who showed interest.

I was disappointed our discovery wasn’t hidden treasure but I began to catch Charles’s enthusiasm for the historical value of the rusty artifice.

When we moved across town there was no doubt we would bring the saw blade with us. Charles leaned it against a big pine tree where it receives curious looks and we can tell our fragmented story.

Not a chest full of gold medallions. But a treasure nevertheless. It reminds me often that I, even rusty and rough around the edges, am treasured by my Master who sought me and bought me. That goes for you too. Think of yourself today as a treasure.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. 2 Corinthians 4:7

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