Restored

I placed the necklace around my neck and stared at its loveliness in the mirror. It belonged to my grandmother. I remember seeing it around her neck many times and thinking how pretty it was. When she died, I was going through her jewelry box, and the sunlight in the room reflected off its silver. I almost felt as if it was calling to me. As I took it lovingly out of the box, I thought of my grandma and how much she loved her beautiful jewelry.

The jade was still beautiful even though it survived for over 100 years. My grandmother loved jade, and this piece was the one that invoked so many memories of my grandma. I remember her wearing it when we played cards, sitting with me and telling me stories, making her latch-hook rugs, or reading. She would always wear her jewelry – more often than not, it would be jade. I wanted to wear this in her memory as a constant reminder that she would always be close to my heart.

Over the years, people have often commented on how lovely it is. Every time I placed it around my neck, I considered myself privileged to have the opportunity to wear it. My husband had given me a sturdy chain so I wouldn't lose it, and I relied on that chain to protect it. That is why it came as a complete surprise when I reached for it one day, as I often did, and it was gone.

I frequently pray when driving and reflexively reach for the jade cross as I pray. This day I was in the driveway just arriving home from the store when I felt for the cross, and it wasn't in its usual place around my neck. I panicked. My heart pitter-pattered as I tried to remember the last time I saw it around my neck. I searched the car, my clothes, and the grocery bags. I traced my footsteps throughout the day, trying desperately to remember when I saw it last. I never take the cross off, and I had become so accustomed to its presence that I just could not figure out when I lost it. 

I enlisted the help of my family and called my friends to try and pinpoint when I might have lost it. We all searched fervently for it, and I retraced my steps a thousand times – all to no avail. I had finally chalked it up to losing it forever and had a good long cry. 

I cried over losing the cross because it represented so much to me. It was my constant tie to my grandmother and my constant companion when I needed to reach out and touch God. I felt like I had lost my grandmother all over again. I felt like I lost my faith in God because He knew how vital that cross was to me, and He just wouldn't allow me to lose it. I felt like I had lost a piece of my heart that day. 

In fact, I remember the day I lost the cross like it was just yesterday. It was a day that I was feeling despondent. It was close to Christmas, and our family had just lost our brand-new mini-van to an engine failure. The van was repossessed because we couldn't afford the $6,000.00 to fix it and couldn't continue to pay for something we could not drive. We had just moved back into our home that we had rented out to a tenant who had brought our little house to the point of ruin where it was almost unlivable. We hardly had any money to fix the place up, buy a new car and have Christmas for our three children and the two children we cared for from Healing the Children. The two children had been with us over the past year. They would continue to be with our family throughout their extensive surgeries. My husband, Bill, and I struggled with how we could continue caring for them. So, for these reasons, I was praying in the driveway for God to help see my family through this difficult time. I wanted to go into my ruined house and somehow find the strength to give myself and my family hope. Instead, I walked into the room in tears and told my family I had lost my cross. It was like the final straw in my life's series of little tragedies. I was in darkness, unsure I would ever see the light again.

The cross was missing for many weeks as the Christmas season drew nearer, and my heart grew heavier with each passing day. I struggled with the bills and the knowledge that Christmas would come and we would not have much, if anything, to give our children. I was still angry at God for letting me lose my cross and not answering my prayers. I was mad at Him for everything happening or not happening in my life. Then, amid all this chaos, our old car broke down, and we had it towed away. I stood in the driveway, watching the car fade in the distance, and I gave it to God! 

"How," I cried, "can it get much worse than this!" "What," I screamed, "would you have me do now!" 

The answer He gave was simple: "Nothing." 

I could do nothing. It was out of my control. I had no choice but to say "uncle." It was about three weeks before Christmas, and I had no idea where, when, or how anything would happen, but I gave it to God and said (more like screamed), "It's yours!" 

It wasn't more than an hour later that I got a phone call from the folks that had our car in the shop. They had an old van sitting there that they were wondering if we could use. They wanted to give it to us because they thought our work with Healing the Children was terrific, and they knew we had to stockpile the kids in our current car. Bill and I graciously accepted their offer. Then, the same people talked to their church about us and gathered up a collection to help us pay for the car's repairs. 

It didn't stop there. A day later, a friend called and said she was drumming up help from her church for us. Soon, people from her church were donating furniture to our family. They helped us furnish our entire house in one week! It wasn't uncommon for me to drive up and see a dresser or couch in the driveway.  

But God's blessing didn't stop there. About a week later, I got another phone call from a friend, Jean, who works at Saks. She called me because every year their store does Christmas for charity. She asked the employees if they would consider helping us since we care for children from Healing the Children, and she knew we could use their assistance this year. Again, we graciously accepted her offer. 

But God's blessing didn't stop there. My son, Billy, was coming home from school one day when he noticed something glittering in the grass on the side of the driveway. One tiny bit of silver had caught the sun in such a way that he could find it. When he investigated, he found the silver on top of pieces of jade that used to be my cross. He gathered the pieces, brought them into the house, and handed them to me with tears in his eyes. I held the shattered cross in my hand and cried anew out of happiness for having it back and sadness because it would never be the same. I put the pieces in a box and thanked God for at least giving me that much of it back.

So much happened in the ensuing week that showed me how incredible God's blessing can be when we give our lives to him. We had a whole crew of men from our church show up at our doorstep to refurbish our house. They transformed our house back into a livable home in just two days. I was in awe of His special provision for our family. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. 

Christmas day came with a flurry. Thanks to the incredible generosity of the folks at Saks, we had more than we could ever have envisioned. Not only did they provide Christmas gifts, but they provided the tree and all the trimmings. I cannot find the words to express the kindness we were blessed with from people we didn't even know. My friend, Jean, was like our personal angel. What she did for our family went far beyond the material things of Christmas. She embodied Christ's love and spirit. 

There was one Christmas gift that Jean handed me herself. She just happens to work in the jewelry department at Saks, and she said this was a special gift she had picked out herself. I opened the box expecting some lovely jewelry, and I did. It was a stunning piece. I burst into tears when I saw it and cried for eternity on her shoulder because it was all wet when I pulled my face away. In the box was my fully restored cross – precisely as it had been before its tragic demise. This time, it was even more beautiful with its lovely polished silver. Jean explained how delicately the jeweler had to restore the broken pieces and that I would have to be careful. I couldn't believe it. I never thought that anyone would ever be able to put the details of my cross back together again. I was wrong. God can do anything if we just step out of His way and let Him. 

It took many broken pieces of my life that one Christmas for me to realize that God can take those broken pieces and make them into something much more beautiful than they were before. Every time I touch my cross, I am reminded that it represents the brokenness of Jesus and, at the same time, it represents His promise to us. Through Him, all things are possible. Believe it!