Diamond in the Rough

When Grandma got sick, I knew I had to do something. So I packed my bags and told my parents that I would be spending a week with her so she could rest.

The week was so much harder than I ever could have imagined. It was almost Christmas, so on top of cooking meals, sweeping floors, doing laundry, and dusting furniture, there were cards to sign, stamp and mail, and Christmas decorations to put up.

Add to this that I was seventeen years old, had never officially "kept house" all by myself before, and had no idea where my Grandma kept most of her cleaning supplies, pans, spatulas, dirty clothing, and many other important things.

Of course, some of this I had been expecting, but the fact that I had college assignments due that week added quite a bit of stress.

But when Grandma informed me that she was not planning on putting up any decorations this year for Christmas, I was floored. I was writing out Christmas cards when she casually mentioned this fact.

"I just don't think I'll be well enough to get them up. I might just skip decorations this year."

I stopped writing to make sense of what she had just said.

Grandma had a fairly large Dickens village that she would lay out on faux snow every year. She had sleigh bells that she hung on the door, and that announced every new arrival. She had a singing snowman, a clear plastic tree that she filled with red and green gumdrops, and of course, a huge Christmas tree that was always loaded with decorations made by hand and given to her throughout the years. The decorations that she hung each year on the tree alone were a legacy.

No decorations?

So, just as matter-of-factly, I said,

"Oh, Grandma, you're going to have decorations!"

We spent the rest of the day finding, cleaning, and setting up the Christmas decorations. Several times during the day, Grandma would get tired and rest in the big chair in the family room. But the more decorations we found, the more excited I got. The singing snowman, found in the bottom of the big green tote, would go just below the TV, on the table in the family room, just like it always did. Ebenezer Scrooge's big house would fit perfectly right next to the Scrooge and Marley Counting House, which hid just behind the skating pond (which actually moved, if you could reach a plug!). The candy tree would go on the coffee table, along with all of Grandma's pictures. The sleigh bells tinkled merrily on the door handle.

Grandpa came home from work, and we had him help us with the tree. When he had gotten it up for us, Grandma and I hung all of the hangings we could find on it.

By now, both of us were exhausted. We sat down for dinner and a movie, then went to bed.

The rest of the week went by without incident. By without incident, I just mean that I didn't burn the house down. But I did burn several meals. I would get everything put together just perfectly, then turn away to read an article in preparation for a test, and by the time I realized what was happening, dinner would be ruined.

Mismatched socks were folded and put together into the wrong drawers. In an attempt to gather eggs from the chickens by myself for the first time, I spent thirty minutes looking for the egg basket before Grandpa came into the barn and showed me that it was right in front of my eyes. College assignments were done quickly, in between loads of laundry.

I arrived at Grandma's house that week hoping to help her with the house so she could rest and be a shining hero. I left defeated and discouraged, feeling that I had done more harm than good. I was disgusted with myself.

Two years later, I still felt the same way. But a chance comment at a picnic helped me more than Grandma will ever know.

Grandma and a friend were reminiscing about when Grandma was sick.

"When Sarah came, I think she boosted my spirits more than anything else. She encouraged me, and showed me that people still needed me. I had planned not to put up any decorations that year, but she refused to let me. She helped me dig out the decorations and put most of them up herself. If she hadn't come that week, I don't know if I would've recovered. It was better than any medicine."

To this day, when I remember these words, they bring tears to my eyes. What stood out to Grandma wasn't the botched meals, the mismatched socks, the badly written Christmas cards, or the total incompetency that marked the week in my mind. What stood out to her was the fact that someone was there to help.

And when I had seen a lump of coal, Grandma had seen a diamond in the rough.

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God bless!

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