Buried Treasure

We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done. Psalm 78:4 NIV

We wandered in and out of the rooms searching for treasure.


A piece of history to carry with us.

After my grandmother’s passing, the grandchildren were invited to her house to reminisce and select special items we wanted to keep. I walked on the back porch where my grandparents used to sit on summer evenings and talk. Covered in dust was their old black phone with the rotary dial. The ringer was so loud when we were on our back porch, two houses away, we could still hear my Papaw answer the phone. “Heeell-o.” He put the emphasis on the first syllable instead of the last.

Old pottery, baskets large and small, and homemade wooden items were stacked and scattered with many summers worth of pollen and dust. With them were chipped china plates picked up at garage sales to use as flower pot saucers and old metal legged school chairs with the seats replaced.

“Look at this,” my cousin thrust a small scrap of paper my way. Scrawled on the yellowed paper were words and numbers. An old budget written by my grandmother who always kept the books. “There’s more,” he told me.

Inside an unassuming wooden box were postcards, letters, budgets, and lists. Each paper was a tiny glimpse inside of life at the time it was written. I ran my hand over the words and thought fondly of the one who wrote them.

It’s been almost a year since we found that box, but the memory of it still runs in and out of my mind. What will my children and grandchildren find of me after my time on this earth?

This one thought had me heading to my journal to hide a treasure. My journals are a record of my walk with the Lord. I write my insecurities, my prayers, my praises, and lessons God is teaching me. One day, I hope my children will find them and read my hand-written words. Maybe I will have grandchildren to glide their hands affectionately over the words I’ve penned.

So, with that thought in mind, I opened my journal in the middle and began a letter.

Dear Colin, Faith, and Grace,
I hope, my dear children, that someday your eyes will dance across these pages and read what I’ve written. Please don’t feel like you’ve invaded my privacy. I’ve written my journals for you…

I poured out my heart for my children and closed the journal. Perhaps, one day many years from now, as my children and grandchildren are searching for memories and pieces of history to keep, they will come across my journals and my buried treasure.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:21 NIV

5 Responses to Buried Treasure
  1. Anna Fouts
    October 11, 2010 | 12:22 pm

    What a beautiful post! It brought back so many memories of the treasures I have inherited from those I love: my mother’s songbooks, with her favorite hymns well worn; my daddy’s book by Charles Spurgeon, How to Be Saved, which daddy carried in his coat pocket along with The Gospel of John, his witnessing tools; my grandmother’s wedding photo; and my uncle’s journals and Bibles. These items are priceless treasures to me. Thanks for the reminder! ~ Love, Anna

  2. Mels Goin Goin Gone
    October 11, 2010 | 12:46 pm

    Beautifully written and took me back to when my Grandma died and we waded through her things, taking the things that were precious to us. I still have a ceramic cat that used to sit in her living room because it was one thing we both shared, the love of the little furry creatures. Thank you for sharing a piece of your heart with us!

  3. Leah
    October 11, 2010 | 7:50 pm

    I loved reading my Grandmother’s diaries when she passed away. She was a hoarder and saved every little scrap of everything. It was neat to go back and remember her by reading them. 🙂

    I love that passage of Scripture too!

  4. Susan
    October 11, 2010 | 10:02 pm

    You reminded me that life is full of such precious memories. We are making them every day. I hope that I will be remembered so fondly.

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