A showcase of opals lay before my eyes—any one of them could be mine. My father stood watching as I studied them.

After Dad retired he learned, through a lapidary shop in Scottsdale how to cut, polish and facet stones. And, here was Dad’s treasure stash, fresh work of his hands, yes, but mostly from his heart.

Patiently, he waited as I placed each one on my ring finger before making a decision. It was fun, but serious. Saying “yes” to one excluded all the others.

How many people have had an endearing relationship with their father? We read about this happening for some and occasionally see movies that reinforce this exemplar idea. If this happened for you, congratulations.

My father had many strengths and abilities. I did not, however, find him to be in any way favoring “warm fuzzies.” No. He was all about business. A hard worker. And, certainly, he took good care of his family. Dad loved Scripture and enjoyed sharing his studies with others. Later in life, after all we children were adults, Dad and Mom even did some worldwide ministry.

As for me, I didn’t “jell” so well with him. We were so much alike that he had a hard time figuring me out. Given time, I came to realize the great gift that occurred from the “miss-match” relationship we had. My, not having a rich, warm relationship with my father found me always in search of Father God. And, although I found and loved Jesus first, the ability to commune with Father God has been an amazing journey wherein I truly am in touch by being a cherished daughter of the Father of all.

One of the things I saw in Dad that is impressive was his ability to find a graceful segway into retirement. Dad loved beautiful stones. So, he and Mom spent considerable time in Scottsdale with the best of teachers where he learned to facet stones. He spent the largest part of his last decade of life tumbling opals, polishing and faceting magnificent stones to be set and worn by Mom, his four children, close friends and daughter-in-laws.

I had my turn in choosing a few of Dad’s lovely creations, too, which surely are treasured and will be passed on to other grateful hands in due time. But, on this particular morning, I look again at the jewels he created and think of how much his work with stones is like a writer’s work with words. Words, those ever present entities found kicking along life’s path. Writers pick over and sort through them, and place them in the tumbler of our hearts. Next, we cut and buff, examine and plan, finally setting them in sentences and paragraphs.

Then, when they are shining as best we can make them, we place our offerings in “showcases”—reverently for readers. Our gift. Some will be liked and some won’t, holding power to evoke great emotion, or to get us “stoned” . . . oh, these wondrous things called words.

After meditating on these thoughts this morning, I opened my Bible, a treasured way to stay my day. Romans 3: 23-25, always touches me deeply, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus.” (Yay! He is at work in me!)

The dictionary shows two applicable meanings for “justified,” 1) “to pronounce free from guilt or blame, and 2) to adjust or arrange exactly.” How clear, the likeness between us and the stones beneath our feet. We, also were covered by “dirt.”  Spotted by God. Picked up and chosen. Incubated in His heart. Now in process—being cut and buffeted as we bounce about upon each other within daily life; God’s jewels in formation. Sure, a long ways from completion, but coming along according to His design.