My mom has a wooden box—scarcely bigger than a jewelry
box—which belonged to my grandmother. More than any other possession I can
think of, I hope that one day that box will be passed along to me. In it are
the neatly folded handwritten letters written over four brightly burning
decades of my grandparents’ marriage.
My grandparents married in 1929, only weeks before the great
crash that would change everything. Grandpa worked in heavy
construction—building cross-state barge canals and roads with heavy machinery
like the enormous drag-line that he was using the day it tipped and he was
trapped below the waters of Florida’s Crystal River. That was just a few short
months before they would have celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary and
years before I was born. Several decades later, my grandmother would follow him
into the arms of their Savior after a battle with Alzheimer’s which ravaged her
mind from the time I can remember her.
In that box mom keeps are letters about the ordinary days of
my grandparents’ lives, passed between life-long sweethearts, laced with tender
words. But still they are a treasure to me: a snapshot into the hearts and
minds of two people I only wish I had known.
If you wondered what Leigh McLeroy’s book Treasured is all about, it’s like this.
It’s a window to the heart of God through the things that He might have kept in
His own treasured wooden box. They are glimpses of His character that He has
passed on to us through the Scriptures. The fresh olive sprig which the dove
carried to Noah, the dry waterskin which sustained the cast-out Hagar, the
well-sharpened knife Abraham raised above his son Isaac—these are just a few of
the treasures McLeroy examines.