Of Caves, and Gifts Too Precious to Use

I've been in a cave for a few days.

Oh, not a literal one, of course, but a mental and emotional one.  I wasn't even sure I wanted to tiptoe out of this cave and post anything online tonight, but here I am, reluctantly.  I haven't figured out exactly why I feel so hermit-ish.  Well, not much use pondering that for too long, I suppose.

Speaking of caves...  Sunday a week ago, Jeff gave Josiah and David the assignment of looking up the Biblical account of David, who hid in the cave of Adullam and longed for a drink of water from his hometown of Bethlehem, and then, when some of his men got one for him at the risk of their lives, poured it out on the ground.  Jeff wanted them to not only find the story and familiarize themselves with it, but also think about some of the deeper meaning behind it.  They eagerly embraced the challenge, and it was fun to watch their enthusiasm for their assignment.  After they found it in the Bible (in 2 Samuel 23) and read it, we talked about it together; and then Jeff gave them and Tobin and Shav the task of acting it out, which they did with great fanfare.  It was a sweet, spiritual time together as a family.  

It also brought to my mind a time when someone did something similar for me.  Not that anyone crept through enemy lines to bring me back water from Bethlehem's well!  But when we lived in San Diego, a kind friend named Adriana made a cake for me, and I felt so honored and humbled by her gift that I could hardly eat it.  If my memory is correct, it was a heart-shaped cake...and, more significantly, it was the first time she had ever made a cake.  And she made it for me.

When I was younger, I read the story of David's men bringing him the water, expecting him to feel very grateful, I'm sure, and to drink it--obviously!  I always thought that if I were them, I would have thought, "Good grief, David!  We just risked our LIVES for that water, and you're using it to water the grass?  WHY IN THE WORLD would you do THAT?"  I didn't get it at all.

Now I understand that sometimes a gift is so precious that you can hardly bring yourself to use or consume it.  Adriana's cake was that way.  (Although I do remember that we did eat it, so the comparison between that cake and the water that David's men brought him only goes so far.)  ;-)

All of that makes me think of grape jelly.  Why?  Because, until recently, on one of the shelves in my cellar sat a jar of grape jelly, made by my mother and labeled with her handwriting.

It's the last jar of grape jelly left from the years when she used to fill the cellar with home-canned goodness.

I've looked at that jar of grape jelly for a long time, not wanting to open it, not wanting to admit the finality of the thing: that this will be the last jar of grape jelly from my mother.

It is, like David's water, almost too precious to use.

However, I have enough of my mother's sensible nature in me that, unlike David, I am not going to pour it out on the ground.  ;-)  Instead, we've been enjoying it on rolls and on peanut butter & jelly sandwiches; and as I spread it on the bread, I'm reminded of the many sacrifices of time and energy my mother made to provide good food for her family and the countless ways she loved and served us.  And I am grateful.

Water from Bethlehem.
A cake made by an inexperienced cook.
Grape jelly, the last of its kind.
All expressions of love that were poured out, either literally or figuratively, before the Lord, the One who sees us and who is with us.

Even when we're in a cave.