53 Years ... !

Fifty-three years ago one of my mother’s nurse colleagues joined the navy during the Vietnam war and “saw the world.” When she came home, mom took me to see her returning friend, Elida Medina. What a kind woman. With all her family to think of, she nonetheless said, “I have something for you,” and left the living room for a moment to return with a silky green pouch. “You don’t have pierced ears, do you?” she asked. I nodded "no"and she placed the pouch in my hands. “Then this will be just right for you.”

Stunned, I unzipped the unexpected present. Out tumbled a long silver chain made of the most beautiful handiwork I had ever seen. With it came a matching bracelet and clip on earrings. I had never, ever had anything so lovely. I expressed effusive thanks as I put my treasures away and she explained how she had purchased it in Thailand. Thailand! The mere exoticness of the nation half a world away was enough to enthrall me. What a lucky girl I was!

But between the “be natural” push from the hippie movement and my grandmother’s holiness roots, I had an aversion to the idea of piercing my ears and jewelry in general. While I definitely treasured Elida’s gift, I didn’t use it. It only saw the light of day perhaps once a decade when I would pull it out from my possessions and bask in the warmth of the kindness of the giver and the beauty of the gift.

Years passed. My pouch traveled with me to Cuernavaca, Morelos, where I began working with Voz en el desierto , a beloved calling that lasted fourteen years, then to the States where I continued working with the ministry while I got my teaching degree and began a teaching career, then to Cd. Victoria at the side of my missionary husband, Steve Muse, then back to the states to various locations. Always the sight of my beloved pouch brought a smile to my lips and gratitude to my heart.

God blessed our marriage with two fine boys, but no girls. But then … a granddaughter! Now I had someone to pass my beautiful treasure onto. After five decades I decided to take my beautiful possessions to a jeweler I trusted and have him shine them up to pass on. I wish I had a picture of my face when the jeweler sadly nodded his head and explained the state of things to me. My treasure wasn’t a treasure worth cleaning. It was silver plated brass that would be extremely expensive to clean due to the complexity of the pattern—and the worst part about it, it would immediately begin to tarnish again. I asked him what he would do with it. With a sad, wry smile he said, “Throw it away.”

My treasure. Worthless. Good for nothing but the garbage pile. I thanked the man, shoulders slumped, and slunk home.

I can’t bring myself to throw my treasure that isn't a treasure away. A lifetime of loving it precludes such an ignominious end for it. But I can’t quit thinking of the implications. What else do I treasure that, in light of eternity, is worthless? I have begun to pray with David, “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts. And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).

Once in a lifetime is enough. I don’t want to treasure garbage. I want the good stuff.