Amazing how some things never change; and today I celebrate that wonderful truth.
I recounted this truth during a beautiful fall afternoon after a hard day’s work, with my husband laboring for the second time over our vehicle needing a repair.
Watching him fight the resistance of nuts and bolts unwilling to break lose from their build-up-of-rust, his greasy hands and collection of old mismatched tools have been telling the same beautiful story throughout our marriage of a man who never ceases to serve.
Such are the eyes of a woman treasure hunting the good in the man God gave her to love for a lifetime.
When we seek, we find.
When we dig, we discover.
When we look, we see.
Give honor to whom honor is due.
The following are words from such a “treasure hunt of good” over twenty years ago…
THERE’S ALWAYS SOMETHING GOOD TO SAY
By Lori A Alicea
Ever known a person who just rubbed you the wrong way? Knowing that same person, if you had to say something good about them, could you?
Those were questions from a family broadcast, encouraging listeners to begin to believe the best in someone, even if it required a treasure hunt of their character to find it.
I was standing in my husband’s garage one morning when I remembered the broadcast about treasure hunting.
Though I could fill up a book’s worth of pages recounting story after story honoring the servant hands of my husband.
Flipping the light it’s obvious no fancy cars or fishing boats are parked in this garage. Though thrilled he’d be for either one, neither would mean anything worthwhile.
While stepping through this hard hat area I felt consumed by so much stuff. Seemingly lost in a man’s world, I started to doubt my quest, yet minutes before stopping my search was victorious, when one blue zipper bag was found.
At first glance, one might question the honor in a blue zipper bag. One might cringe at its worn, greasy appearance. But honor goes beyond the grease, as the real treasure remained hidden inside; an assortment of old rusty tools.
For Father’s Day one year I bought these tools so my husband could change the oil and rotate the tires. That day these tools were shiny and organized. Now they’re stuffed in a tattered bag giving the impression they haven’t been cared for, but just the opposite is true.
Over the years I’ve watched my husband become a servant among servants, helping others with these tools. Changing oil became fixing breaks and whatever he’s learned to do since then, mostly requiring a hot meal as payment.
Occasionally I watch my husband working under the hood, curious how parts on the garage floor ever get put back correctly. Yet hours later when I hear the engine running, I stand amazed that though I have the college degree, he truly is the smarter of us both.
Looking at these tools, I recall harsh weather my husband has labored in.
I see the mismatch set, remembering frigid slush he searched through after his tools had accidentally dumped.
I see their rust and feel soaked myself, as he’s worked beneath cars in a downpour.
Then I see that great smile he wears regardless of it all.
Maybe a hot meal doesn’t justify the effort of “being a blessing”. Maybe it does if you see blessings as released boomerangs; so faithful they return.
“Finding the best” in someone is always worth the hunt, as treasures are buried in all of us, even hiding in some blue zipper bag.
…The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.
Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.
1 Samuel 16:7 NIV