Diamond in the Rough

Preface: My grandparents house burned down on January 17, 2015. My Grandmother lost everything she's ever owned and her husband of sixty-plus years all in one night. Grandaddy retired from the post office and owned a local jewelry store, Boaz Jewelry, but more importantly he was a wonderful husband, father to six, grandfather to14, and great grandfather to 10. 

My grandparents built the farm house when my dad was young. They raised their family on Arringron Acres and have stayed put ever since. It was here we grandchildren learned the art of gardening and biscuit baking, gained a love for the woods, climbed Grandmother's beloved Magnolia tree (without permission-which consequently followed by picking a "hickory"), and enjoyed the best milkshakes on earth.  

There's no doubt that Arrington Acres will always hold a special place in our hearts. 

January abruptly changed the dynamic of our family and brought on what continues to be a frustrating reality of life without Grandaddy. 

I love that God works all situations for His glory and for my good, but sometimes it's much harder than I'd like, because I don't see the diamonds in the rough. So I try to continue to remind myself of ways that he's worked in my life and assure myself that grandaddy's death was not in vain, even if I dont understand completely- or at all. 

Since everything was lost in the fire we spent a lot of time digging and sifting through the rubble, hoping to find my Grandmother's wedding rings, but also in search of understanding. We found rings and watches and silverware galore, but not THE ring. And we never found the "reason" it all happened the way it did. 

I only went on a few occasions, since breathing problems and ashes don't exactly make a good team. Physically,  I never came up empty handed- each time I found several rings and watches, along with a handful of less valuable things, such as: pieces of fine china, that somehow were still in tact. But emotionally, that didn't feel like progress. 

It hurt. The harsh reality that a piece of beautifully crafted, delicate, fine china (you know the kind that you're not even allowed to look at the wrong way when you're a child, because it could break?) could withstand the quickly rising temperature of scorching flames, be thrown off shelves, then tumble down a couple of stories, yet still remain in tact cut deep. It felt like a sick joke; that something so delicate made it out, yet the strongest man I've ever known didn't.

It's almost as if I thought (and hoped) I could sift and sift and sift and sift myself right out of this nightmare! Then have Grandaddy right back there, beside me.

As an independent, type-A, organized, broken person I find myself constantly searching for any thing or any task to cling to, that may bring solace and understanding. 

During these times of confusion I see how purposeful God is in my life. As I fight to fix it on my own or grasp at any possible "diamond" he gently reminds me that he is near, he hears, and he cares. (Seems to be a reoccurring theme for me, huh?) Through memories of Grandaddy and our family God reminds me that he has always been near and has a greater plan than I can see or understand. 

He has been continually faithful in my life and my family's life, so why would he stop now? Why wouldn't he be faithful in this storm? 

My Grandaddy was the strongest man I've ever known, from his stomach of steel that could handle the hottest peppers and even the yuckiest spoiled milk (because milk is expensive so we don't dare let a drop go to waste), to his posture of grace and love that he shared with so many. God blessed me beyond measure by giving me two grandfathers that lived Christ centered lives and saw the importance of raising their families to do the same. It is not their "good reputation," but the reflection of God and his faithfulness in their lives that lives on through their memory. For that I will forever be grateful. 

We lost one of the most precious people in that fire, but we did not lose the memories we made, the impact that he had on our lives, or the impact he made for God's kingdom.

Because of that impact, I will never leave a Sunday service at First Baptist Boaz with dry eyes-after seeing Grandaddy's seat empty. However, because of his example, I will also never leave without the joy and hope I have through Christ, in my heart.

Thank you Lord for gracing me with such a godly Grandaddy and continually teaching me more about you through his life, even now. 

Even when my heart is heavy I will cling to your truth, which is my diamond in the rough.