Copyright © 2009 by "Joyce Wyatt" • All Rights reserved
www.BestKnow.info is pleased to present a few articles from
Renown Chrstian Author
Joyce Wyatt.
Her writings are full of inspiration and help. They are printed by permission, and all rights to these articles are reserved. They are provided to you for your inspiration, edification and entertainmesnt.
God bless you!
Renown Chrstian Author
Joyce Wyatt.
Her writings are full of inspiration and help. They are printed by permission, and all rights to these articles are reserved. They are provided to you for your inspiration, edification and entertainmesnt.
God bless you!
Words of Grace
from
Joyce Wyatt
from
Joyce Wyatt
THE REAL TREASURE
Joyce Noel Wyatt
The big cardboard box was unloaded off the trailer and set in the basement. A few days went by - days of existing somewhere between numbness and shock. My sister was gone, my sweet, kind sister, so full of life, the hub of the family. Inside the box were just a few of her precious things.
The message I had received three months earlier was still fresh in my mind. “Betty had a stroke this morning and we’re at Baptist Hospital,” my brother’s voice resounded on the answering machine. It was March 20, 2005. “How could it be?” I asked aloud. “Not Betty!” Betty was in excellent health. We thought. It was her husband who had been so gravely ill.
“Honey, would you bring the box up?” I asked my husband Ron that Monday evening in June.
“Sure,” he replied. Moments later, a look of uncertainty shadowing his face, he set the box down in the kitchen. “Here you are.”
I stared at the box. My will, to carry on with life as usual, seemed to be buried deep in the ground with Betty. But yet, I thought, I’ve got to touch her things. I’ve got to go on. Opening the box I caught a glimpse of my sister’s life - a cookbook, a glass platter, a hat and gloves, a picture, a bracelet, a novel. Betty loved life. This was just a sample of her things, her treasures. In that moment, her things became overwhelmingly important to me. Perhaps too much.
And then, I spotted two Bibles - one, well-worn, had been my mother’s. The other was Betty’s, unused. Suddenly, my face was drenched with tears. Betty had lived all her life without knowing Christ. That is, until Mother’s Day, May 8, 2005, when something spectacular happened. Sitting up in the hospital bed, sunlight pouring into the room, she surrendered her will to God. Though the stroke had captured her language skills, she cried out, “Jesus! I love you!” “I love you Jesus!” In a moment’s time, all the things she had so loved were unimportant to her and she let us know it. It was the new-found peace that really mattered now. Three weeks later Betty was gone.
Leafing through the Bibles, I came across an envelope with an old photo of my mother and father dated back to 1925. As my hand caressed that ancient photo, a soft, quiet voice spoke within, “My child, it’s not ‘things’ that matter, ‘things’ are not the real treasure. It’s the gift of God that your parents passed down to you and your siblings, the gift that extends to your children and your children’s children.”
With a new revelation, I looked deep into that box, but saw not Betty’s things. I saw countless prayers that had gone up for my sister. I saw the mercy of God, who had saved her in the midnight hour of her life. I saw the real treasure-the one she took with her.
Joyce Noel Wyatt
The big cardboard box was unloaded off the trailer and set in the basement. A few days went by - days of existing somewhere between numbness and shock. My sister was gone, my sweet, kind sister, so full of life, the hub of the family. Inside the box were just a few of her precious things.
The message I had received three months earlier was still fresh in my mind. “Betty had a stroke this morning and we’re at Baptist Hospital,” my brother’s voice resounded on the answering machine. It was March 20, 2005. “How could it be?” I asked aloud. “Not Betty!” Betty was in excellent health. We thought. It was her husband who had been so gravely ill.
“Honey, would you bring the box up?” I asked my husband Ron that Monday evening in June.
“Sure,” he replied. Moments later, a look of uncertainty shadowing his face, he set the box down in the kitchen. “Here you are.”
I stared at the box. My will, to carry on with life as usual, seemed to be buried deep in the ground with Betty. But yet, I thought, I’ve got to touch her things. I’ve got to go on. Opening the box I caught a glimpse of my sister’s life - a cookbook, a glass platter, a hat and gloves, a picture, a bracelet, a novel. Betty loved life. This was just a sample of her things, her treasures. In that moment, her things became overwhelmingly important to me. Perhaps too much.
And then, I spotted two Bibles - one, well-worn, had been my mother’s. The other was Betty’s, unused. Suddenly, my face was drenched with tears. Betty had lived all her life without knowing Christ. That is, until Mother’s Day, May 8, 2005, when something spectacular happened. Sitting up in the hospital bed, sunlight pouring into the room, she surrendered her will to God. Though the stroke had captured her language skills, she cried out, “Jesus! I love you!” “I love you Jesus!” In a moment’s time, all the things she had so loved were unimportant to her and she let us know it. It was the new-found peace that really mattered now. Three weeks later Betty was gone.
Leafing through the Bibles, I came across an envelope with an old photo of my mother and father dated back to 1925. As my hand caressed that ancient photo, a soft, quiet voice spoke within, “My child, it’s not ‘things’ that matter, ‘things’ are not the real treasure. It’s the gift of God that your parents passed down to you and your siblings, the gift that extends to your children and your children’s children.”
With a new revelation, I looked deep into that box, but saw not Betty’s things. I saw countless prayers that had gone up for my sister. I saw the mercy of God, who had saved her in the midnight hour of her life. I saw the real treasure-the one she took with her.
