The Real Treasures

I was watching a news interview with a political expert.

Behind him were shelves lined with the books he had written. Row after row of them. Impressive.

Then I noticed something. Tucked into the corner of one of those impressive bookshelves were two plastic cups holding colorful paper flowers. 

You know the kind. The flowers children make in preschool out of construction paper, glue, and enormous amounts of love. The kind that proudly arrive home with stems that bend in impossible directions and petals that don't quite match.

I laughed. Of all the things he could have displayed behind him - awards, trophies, expensive artwork - there sat two plastic cups with paper flowers. And suddenly, those flowers became the most important things on the shelf.

Then I smiled, because I realized... I do the exact same thing.

Every Friday, I set my Shabbat table with my finest china and our sterling silver Kiddush cups. I put beautiful fresh flowers in the center - the kind you'd photograph for a magazine.

And right beside them, holding their own place of honor, are little paper flowers made by my grandchildren.

They do not match the china.
They do not match the silver.
They are not perfectly straight.

One might lean a little to the side. Another might have a petal that looks like it got into an argument with the scissors. I love them.

Nobody told my grandchildren that their flowers had to compete with the "important" things on the table. They just showed up. And I made room.

MY DIAMONDS

Maybe that is one of the gifts of getting older. We begin to understand that beauty does not always come in the form we expect.

Sometimes it comes in a little white jewelry box sitting next to the Shabbat candles.

My diamonds.

Well...not the kind you buy in a jewelry store.

Inside are dozens of rubber band bracelets, colorful plastic necklaces, and beaded creations lovingly made by my grandchildren.

Every one arrived with great ceremony. "Savta! I made this for you!" 

As far as they were concerned, they had just handed me the Crown Jewels. And I received them exactly that way.

I wear them. Not all at once. (I'm a grandmother, not a Christmas tree.)

I rotate them, because each one reminds me of the little hands that strung the beads, chose the colors, and waited for my reaction.

The funny thing is that I often wear them alongside real gold bracelets. If someone asked which bracelet is worth more, the jeweler and I might give different answers. 

Gold has value because it is rare. A rubber bracelet has value because one little person made it while thinking: "Savta will love this."

That's rarer.

Maybe that is what happens as we grow older. We stop measuring our wealth by what shines. We start measuring it by what holds love.

A chipped mug from a parent.
A faded photograph.
A paper flower.
A rubber bracelet.

To anyone else, they may just be things taking up space.

But to us... They hold voices.
They hold tiny hands.
They hold moments we never want to forget.
They are the real treasures.