Grandma's Treasure Box

Every summer, Christy Dunivan would pack her bags and head to the West Coast to stay with her grandmother for two weeks. Her first memory of staying with Grandma Dunivan reached back to the young age of three. Christy remembered saying good-bye to her mom and dad as she held her grandmother’s hand and waved to the familiar car that drove away. She then remembered begging her grandmother to walk her down to the beach so she could frolic in the sand.
Grandma Dunivan’s small house was in a secluded area along the coastline. The nearest neighbor was a good fifteen-minute walk away. Christy had inherited her grandmother’s fascination with the ocean. They would sit together each evening and watch the sun display brilliant hues of orange, red, purple, and pink as it disappeared on the horizon. Christy would sniff the salty, ocean air and close her eyes as she tried to hum in harmony with the splashing of the waves.
It was after one such sunset during the first trip at the tender age of three that Christy followed her grandmother back to the small house that hugged the beach so closely. Her grandmother lovingly prepared her grandchild for bed, tucked her in, said her prayers, and headed to her own room. Christy dug herself deep under the covers, but being out of her own bed sent fearful chills down her spine. She finally crept out of bed and down the short hall to her grandmother’s room. Gingerly entering the room, she caught a glimpse of her grandmother carefully placing a beautiful box into a drawer in her dresser.
“Grandma…” Christy hesitated.
Her grandmother jumped, startled from her surprise visitor.
“Christy…..what is it, dear?”
“I’m scared…” the little girl gulped.
“Oh, child, there is nothing to fear here.” Grandma Dunivan took Christy’s small hand and walked her back to her room. She tucked the frightened child back into bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“Grandma…” the curious child began, “what was that box you had?”
“Oh…that’s my treasure box,” the wise grandmother remarked.
“What’s in it?” Christy pondered.
“Treasures, of course. However, they are secret treasures. Only me and the Lord know what’s in my treasure box.”
“Oh….” Christy whispered. “Will I ever get to see inside your special box?” the girl asked.
“Maybe, some day………a long time from now, though.” With that, Grandma Dunivan began to hum a lullaby, and soon Christy was fast asleep.
As the years passed, Christy continued her summertime visits to her grandmother’s small cottage on the beach. When she was ten, she brought up the subject of the treasure box once again.
“Grandma, do you still have your treasure box?”
“Christy…..why I’m surprised you remember it!”
“Am I old enough to see in it now?” the girl eagerly questioned.
“No……not yet…..but, I will let you hold it.”
Christy followed her grandmother into her bedroom and watched with anticipation as the box was carefully removed from its drawer. It was tenderly placed in her small hands.
“Grandma, can we take it with us to watch the sunset?”
“Oh, well, I suppose.”
Christy treated the box with special care as they sat on the beach watching the sun make its majestic descent. The little granddaughter studied the box with intensity. It was overlaid with a beautiful layer of pinkish pearl, which was held in place by gold bands all the way around the edges. Christy fingered the smooth surface and gently shook the box. She could hear a faint shuffling sound, but she was hesitant to shake any harder, fearing she might break the treasures inside. The wind suddenly caught her hair, blowing her long strands away from her innocent face. Her grandmother’s words interrupted her thoughts.
“I’ve always loved the wind, Christy. It reminds me so much of God’s Spirit. We cannot see Him, but we feel his touch in our lives. Sometimes, I even close my eyes and just feel the might of the wind, then, I wait………….listening……….for His voice.”
Christy’s thoughts lingered on her grandmother’s words and she began to hum with the wind. Her grandmother turned to her and eyed her little granddaughter with amazement.
“Christy, you have an ear for music. I hope you will use the gift God has given you.”
Christy smiled and thought about how much she loved to sing. She continued to hum and finally let out the words of the tune she was humming, allowing the music to float with the breeze. When she finished, the two sat together in silence, eyes closed, feeling the wind against their faces until the sky finally gave way to darkness.
As time passed, Christy grew into a young woman. Her life was filled with activities and events. They included her college graduation with a degree in music, her marriage, and the birth of her own daughter. Even through the busy changes in her life, Christy managed to visit her aging grandmother every summer, now taking her young family with her. Grandma Dunivan continued to amaze all who knew her with her youthful energy. The years continued to drift away, and soon Christy became a grandmother herself. Her own daughter was now married and had given birth to her first child…..a precious baby girl named Hannah.
Grandma Dunivan was in her late nineties, but with her youthful determination, she still managed to live alone in her cottage by the ocean. It came as a surprise to Christy when she received the news that her grandmother had quietly passed away in her sleep. Her grandmother had remained vibrant until her last day on Earth. Christy traveled to meet her mother and discuss the future of the little cottage by the ocean. It was decided that they would keep it for awhile and use it as a summer vacation house. Christy volunteered to go the cottage and organize her grandmother’s things one last time before closing up the cottage for the winter. Before leaving, her mother told her that Grandma had left her a particular item in the will. Her mother took from her pocket a small key.
“Christy, the will said you would know what to do with this key.”
Immediately, Christy understood the meaning of her mother’s words.
“Oh, mother, it’s the key to Grandma’s treasure box!” Christy felt a tingling down her spine and a rush of childhood memories danced in her mind.
Upon arrival at the cottage, Christy made her way to her grandmother’s bedroom with a flood of feelings rushing within her. Gently, she opened the drawer and touched the box. She had not even seen the box in years. As she lovingly removed it, the weight of it surprised her. It seemed much lighter than she recalled. She carried it to her grandmother’s bed and took the key from her pocket. Placing it in the lock, she easily coaxed the box open. As the lid began to lift, a stack of small papers pushed itself out of the box. They had been tightly packed down and Christy’s first thought was how so many papers could have fit in the box at all. The middle-aged woman was ashamed at the initial disappointment she felt at having discovered merely papers in the box. However, disappointment gave way to tears when she began to read the top paper. It was dated the same day as her grandmother’s death.
“She must have written it before going to bed that last night,” Christy whispered to herself.
Christy read the words again:
“Lord, keep Christy and her family safe this week. Guide her into Your Presence. Let her know you in a new way. Someday, Lord, help her to understand the significance of this treasure box. In the name of Jesus, I ask. Amen.”
Wiping away her tears, Christy began to read through the other papers. Each one was dated and in descending order. Each paper was a specific prayer for her and her family. Christy carefully read each prayer and at times wept uncontrollably. As the prayers reached back in time, she could actually see how each prayer had been answered. There was the prayer asking for her to find a husband who would love music as she did, who would be faithful, quiet-natured – to balance her buoyant personality. Several more traits for her future husband were listed in that particular prayer request. The qualities described by her grandmother matched her husband perfectly. Christy read on in amazement. There were papers asking for her healing through every illness she could recall. Finally, Christy found herself reading the last note. She could barely read it through her blur of tears.
“Lord, thank you for allowing Christy to spend this time with me. It’s her first visit with me and I love watching her play on the beach. I’ve noticed, Lord, that she loves to hum with the wind. Oh, Father, please give her a musical talent that she can one day use for you. Thank you, too, for her little life and all that the future holds for her. Finally, my Lord, thank you for giving me a purpose for this little treasure box. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.”
Christy’s mind played back to that moment when she found her grandmother putting the treasure box away when she was only three. She must have just finished writing out the prayer – the first prayer of many to be placed in the box. Her love for music had become an important part of her life. She had married a music minister and she herself was the church pianist, directed the children’s choir, and sang often for various gatherings. Christy felt overwhelmed by the treasures before her – years of prayers given on her behalf. She held the box with its papers and cried for a long while. Finally, she very carefully placed the papers back in the box and decided to carry it down to the beach. The sun would be setting soon, and she wanted to run her fingers over the smooth pearly surface and feel the wind against her face.
As she sat on the familiar beach, she felt the warmth of the sun, despite the crispness in the autumn air. Winter was soon approaching, and she wanted to have another memory of a sunset with the box in her hands. As the sky began to spray itself with pink clouds, Christy opened the box, thinking she would just read the top prayer. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind grabbed at her fingers. The box was yanked from her hands and papers spilled out everywhere. In horror, Christy jumped up and began to chase them. When she would reach down to pick one up, it would seem to take a life of its own and dance out of her reach. The papers continued to blow until the last one had sailed out into the water. Christy fell to her knees in shock. She could not even save one paper. Tears began to roll violently down her cheeks. The brilliance of the sunset’s colors was at its peak, yet it was the color beside her that finally caught Christy’s attention. The gold bands on the treasure box were still reflecting the sunlight that remained. Christy tenderly picked up the box. A gentle breeze was now blowing, and in despair, she closed her eyes and suddenly remembered the words her Grandma Dunivan had spoken about the wind. It seemed anything but a friend to Christy, but she tried to listen anyway. Hadn’t her grandmother told her that she could hear God’s Spirit in the wind? Suddenly, she remembered the words of the first paper she had read from the treasure box. “Help her to understand the significance of this treasure box.” Christy tried to listen even harder, the wind wisping her hair away from her face. Then, two words came to her.
“Fill it…..” She heard them in her spirit again…. “Fill it…..” A peace and a Presence overtook her and she knew what the Lord was telling her. In the distance she heard a small voice that soon grew louder. Opening her eyes, she looked behind her to see her three-year-old granddaughter, Hannah, running to her with open arms. The little girl and her mother had arrived to help organize the estate. Christy quickly set the treasure box beside her and stood to receive the welcomed embrace of the precious child.
“Grandma, look at the sky! Isn’t it pretty!”
“Yes, my little dear. Let’s sit and watch the rest of the sunset together.”
Hannah and her grandmother sat down in the sand and the little girl noticed the beautiful box beside her grandma.
“What’s that, Grandma?”
“Oh….that’s my treasure box. Someday, a long time from now……you’ll be able to see the secret treasures inside……….but, I will let you hold it…”
Christy slowly placed it in the expectant hands and watched as tiny fingers enjoyed the smooth surface.
Later that evening, after kissing her granddaughter goodnight, Christy wrote a prayer for her granddaughter, the first of many that would someday fill the box. Then, she opened the dresser drawer and tucked the box away, wondering secretly how God might answer the many prayers that the box would carry – treasures that would last an eternity.

9/30/99