Some time later I happened to be browsing in an antique store and found the identical set. Priced at almost $400 Cdn. !!! Whoah! It is surprising how a little education can change one’s perspective.
When I thought it was worth five dollar I sent the kids to retrieve it, I let the kids wash it. Suddenly I was saying “Don’t touch the punch bowl! I will get it.” In actual fact it was an INDIANA CARNIVAL GLASS Blue Harvest Grape Punch bowl set. Popular when my grandmothers were setting up housekeeping, although neither of them had anything like it.
Even though it was the same punch bowl set, I became a little more invested in it. A little more stressed out about ‘the kids bringing it up stairs’. What if it dropped? What if …. heaven forbid, another cup got broken? Although I always take good care of things, I began to take especially good care of this punch bowl. I began washing it personally and carefully. I dried it personally and carefully. . . . . .
What made the difference? The punches I served in it still tasted the same, still a little strangely coloured because of the blue glass. The same. Outwardly nothing had changed. The only thing that had changed was one little piece of information that I hadn’t been aware of before. Information that had always been true – I just didn’t know about it. A detail that involved somebody else’s perspective. . . . . IT had not changed. I changed. My understanding changed. And that changed my behaviour.
It remains a good analogy to me of many things, but mostly to contemplate what I might be worth, considering the high price my Saviour paid for me. At some points in my life – I may have convinced myself I was only worth five dollars, and if that was true, then clearly I didn’t need nor deserve special care. But the fact is, someone paid a very high price for me – whether I understood it or not. Whether I even accepted it or not. That price was so great that it caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit”. (D&C 19:18) His love for me was so great that He willingly took my name personally through the sacred temple of Gethsemane. I imagine Him gently washing my wounds and drying my tears. Personally. And carefully. Because my ‘worth’ to Him, is a very ‘Personal’ thing.
My punch bowl sits in an honoured place now. In my kitchen. Behind a glass door, where I see it often. And it speaks to me. Of mistaken identity. Of inherent value. Of Divine Nature. Of the sacred worth of souls. . . . .
I imagine myself – a Blue Indiana Carnival Glass punch bowl set. Sadly, one of my cups is broken, and my ladle is long since disappeared. . . .
Warmly,
Cindy Suelzle