Sometimes a Gift Means More Than the Giver Intended

A few weeks ago, one of the congregation members at my husband’s vicarage church gave us the above cross that he had made himself.  While the cross in itself was an impressive gift because it was hand-made (and my husband and I are about the most un-handy people you’ll ever meet), the gift was especially special to me because it reminded my of my maternal grandmother.

My grandmother had a Jesus nameplate in the same designed that sat on the windowsill in her dining room.  Whenever my family visited her, I would spend several minutes staring at the design.  It always fascinated me that at first I could only see a jumble of shapes, only to blink and have the name Jesus pop out from the shapes.  It was just one of those things that made my grandmother’s house special.

My memories of my grandmother are limited; my family lived ten hours away so we could only visit about once a year.  Consequently, I appreciate physical reminders I can have of her–this cross now sits below one of her paintings.


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