When I first looked at the rosary in that small jewelry box my mind was flooded with the memory of my small, round Granddaddy kneeling by his bed each night saying his rosary in their bedroom. He then put the rosary on the post of their four-poster bed by his pillow where he kept it. I would often finger the beads of the rosary in the daytime, but always with a sense of the reverence with which Granddaddy handled it.
I treasured that rosary and kept it in my dresser drawer. A few years ago we moved and the rosary disappeared from its box in the drawer where I kept it. I thought the movers or someone had taken it from my drawer and was very heartsick when I thought about that empty box and the note.
Recently I was going through a box of papers and books when the rosary fell out of the box. I fell on my knees and cradled the rosary in my hands for a long time—a treasure restored! I have no idea how the rosary disappeared and then reappeared, but I shiver with joy every time I think about my treasured keepsake--Granddaddy’s rosary!