The first time I went to see her I was a little afraid. My mother had warned my brothers and I
to be on our best behavior. “No
running around, be quiet and use your manners”, she stated firmly. We tentatively approached the old brick
building. The door was opened but
it was so dark inside our eyes couldn’t make out anything. As we moved down the hallway we
came to a sitting room with sparse furnishings. The back windows were open and as our eyes adjusted we
noticed an elderly lady sitting in a chair. As she rose to welcome her guests I noted that she was
all of four foot nothing and quite stiff as she moved. I suspect now my mother feared we would
blow her over with the slightest movement, thus the warning to mind our
manners. She smiled warmly and
greeted us with a twinkle in her eye.
She had a surprise and had been waiting all day for us to come
visit. She walked over to a table
and picked up a jar. She handed it
to my father who was instructed to spread the contents out on the carpet “for
the children” she said. We sat
down as he poured out hundreds of shinny copper pennies. We couldn’t believe
our good fortune. I looked up to
see the little lady beaming from ear to ear, but she wasn’t done yet. She went back to the table, grabbed her
handbag and pulled out a beautifully worn red leather coin purse. She handed it to my father and motioned
for him to add it to the pile. She
cheerfully gave all that she had right down to the last cent. My brothers and I spent a great deal of
time counting out the coins and dividing them up equally. All the while, my
parents visited over a cup of coffee.
Every time I glanced their way she seemed to notice and would turn and
smile at me. It clearly gave her
great joy to bless us with all she was able to give.
This little lady was my great grandmother. She was born and raised in England and
was everything you can imagine an English Lady to be. Well mannered, soft spoken, sweet, gentle and loved us with
all her heart simply because we were her family. I must admit I was immediately taken with her sweetness and
I loved her too. Sadly, we lived
in another state and were only able to visit a few times before she went home
to the Lord. At that time, I was
given her beautifully worn red leather coin purse. It became my prized possession as it reminded me of the
little lady who not only loved me without condition but, gave all she had
because of it.
I kept the coin purse in my drawer. I had just finished counting it’s
contents, a whole seven dollars, which I accumulated from my chores when my
brother came into my room. He told
me he had a special secret hiding place for his money and at the ripe old age
of ten, I discerned this was very wise.
I went to my father and told him I needed a special secret hiding place
of my own and he suggested I put the coin purse in his sock drawer. Brilliant! No one would ever suspect I put my money there. A week or so later I went back to my
special secret hiding place and to my surprise the coin purse was gone. I immediately went to my father and
asked him what happened to the coin purse and he replied “What coin purse? I
don’t know what you are talking about. ”
My prized possession, my red leather coin purse was
gone. Never mind the seven dollars
I had amassed in it. The gift from
my Great Grandmother was gone. I
was heartbroken.
I only tell you the next part of the story to say it is not
the point of my telling. It seems
like a logical end, but as it turns out God had a better ending.
I loved my earthly father with all my heart, but the simple
truth is, he had a drinking problem.
I realized shortly after this event that the cost of a case of Schlitz
beer, his drink of choice, was…you guessed it… seven dollars. Exactly the amount contained in my coin
purse. After wrestling with
betrayal, loss of trust, dishonesty and down right selfishness, I mean let’s be
honest this child was sideswiped, I decided to love the man and hate the
brokenness. This practice served me well over the years. I was able to put up healthy boundaries
and keep my heart intact and un-jaded.
While this is truth, as I said there is a better ending to come. As a side note, I am happy to say my
father recommitted his life to Jesus, was sober and I have no doubt he loved me
with all his heart.
While doing my morning study I came to a verse that
immediately brought to mind this event and with one fell swoop completely
overtook my previous mindset. Just
when I thought it was settled and completely in the past the old pit in the
stomach came back. The one where
you know that you buried something in your own understanding and God was about
to reveal a truth so amazingly beautiful it would bring tears to your eyes. I have to admit that my eyes are
spilling over just now as I write this.
God is so complete in our restoration that he leaves no stone
unturned. Even the ones we stomp
into the ground. But I am getting
ahead of myself.
Indulge me a moment while I share the verses from my Beth
Moore study Beloved Disciple.
Romans 5:8 says “God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we
were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
One of the most significant qualities found in Gods brand of love is
that it is demonstrative. In other words, show me don’t tell me! Christ
directed His followers to love as He loved them. 1 John 3:18 says, “Little
children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and
truth.” Again, one of the most
important dimensions of agape love is that it is demonstrative. So what did I learn? The gift was not the red leather coin
purse. I was the love behind
it. A gift that could never be taken away. The love that Christ
demonstrated is the same love we as believers are instructed to extend to
others. My great grandmother gave
everything she had simply because of who I was, to her. This was the true
gift.
Is there a loss, which has left a big gaping hole in your
heart; a relationship, a better time, perhaps even an object that was merely a
symbol of affection? Could it be
that the love behind each of these things is tucked deep inside your heart
where it can never be taken away?
Finally, if my Great Grandmother, being of flesh, gave so
much simply because of who I was, to her.
Imagine the breadth and length and height and depth of Christ’s love
simply because of who we are, to Him.
