Paperweight

There is a precious object before me, on my desk. It is frequently moved and has endured many a house move and many a curious child, yet- it remains wholly intact. It isn’t precious because of its physical worth. It could languish in a charity shop gathering dust on some shelf corner, a small white sticker saying its value was as little as a pound or two. It is precious TO ME because it was a parting gift from a precious couple, who left Lincoln some 21 years ago to be nearer their adult sons and their families. They were Londoners, who had then been Shetlanders, then Aberdonians before they landed in Lincoln. They were in our church and helped whoever was in their path to need them. They were love. They were kindness. They were sensible. They were wise. They had lived enough of life, made enough mistakes, felt enough pain and joy to be truly valuable people and precious as friends.

They saw me struggling, a young mum with four little boys and expecting a fifth. We were living in the Monks Road area of Lincoln and were living through a troubled season. Things were going wrong. Everything, pretty much. A double suicide in our extended family, a breakdown, redundancy and a difficult pregnancy, a strife touched marriage. They walked about us, picking us up when we fell, held our hands, watched our kids and took them for riverside walks. They gave without asking in return. They helped, encouraged and prayed for us and with us. They understood when snotty tears ran, and I complained I couldn’t do it anymore. They got it. They knew it. They smiled peaceful smiles that said,’ You think your world is coming to an end, but it isn’t...just wait and see…it will all be ok...keep looking at Jesus.’ And they were right. They held us steady, a stone upon flighty papers that would be otherwise lost in a wild, destructive wind. They held us there time after time before it was time for them to leave. No Mary Poppins farewell, but we knew a heaven-sent wind blew in a new direction and they would fly away to help someone else. God’s gift, ministers of His peace to the faint of heart and weary of soul.

She placed it into my hand as a farewell gift. A solid, heavy glass paperweight. Glass, so fragile, yet strong and lasting. At the base, a painting of a posy of blue flowers- forget me nots? As if we ever could! Below the picture, a verse of Scripture from 1 Peter 2:7- ‘Therefore, to you who believe, he is precious.’ PRECIOUS. This paperweight is precious because of the soft whispered memories it stirs. Those memories are precious as I see so clearly the faces of long-gone friends who we were allowed to hold onto for just a season. Those faces and holding hands are precious because they were sent to us by Him, the One who saw us. heard our cries for help and sent rescuers in the storm, the One Who is faithful.