My sister and her husband had been doing some improvement projects around their yard — planting hostas, digging out an old retainer wall, filling in gaps in the yard — when they found a hidden treasure.
A burial ground of old bottles.
There were soda bottles, medicine bottles, lotion bottles. Some of the bottles were clear, others milky, one a bright shade of blue. There was even a small, flat bottle that had Avon imprinted in it — cold cream from a by-gone era. In all, about 10 different bottles emerged from a little section no more than a square foot.
When I stopped by their place Sunday, the bottles were in a neat row, as though in a police line up. I didn’t recognize any of them. But a couple of them did catch my eye, smudged and dirty though they were. As I pulled them from their queue and claimed them for my own, I wondered whether they would be worth cleaning up.
Those bottles bounced around in the back seat of my car for the past two days, as I criss-crossed the county of my birth visiting family, driving past my old high school, singing the lyrics to Sara Grove’s song, “Less Like Scars.”
And I feel You here
And You’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But You are able
And in Your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character
When I finally got home and began unloading the car, I saw those bottles again and remembered. I remembered that when I had taken them from the ground, I had made a commitment to at least try to clean them up, try to redeem them.
I filled a bucket with water and submerged the bottles, hoping some of the dirt would soak off. After a few minutes, I started scrubbing with a soft brush. Then I used my fingers, gently wiping away the years of grime, the stains of time and neglect.
And gradually, I saw that the bottles were going to be beautiful again, even if they did have some marks that would not rub off and some dirt around the cracks that would never come clean.
Those marks and that dirt give the bottles character; they are evidence that these bottles were lost and someone found them.
They should feel right at home here.
I linked to this post on my blog today, Charity. Enjoyed it too much not to share 🙂
LL – I’m trying to find a special place for the blue bottle. After I finish cleaning him up, that is.
Thanks, Natalie!
Sara, splash around here anytime.
Taylor – So glad you found me! I’ve been poking around at your place too!
Thanks, all! I’m glad you could experience the treasure with me.
Ted – I often wonder that too, when I find stuff buried. Is it junk or treasure? What am I leaving behind, too?
Dawn – Yes, beauty and value gained over time. Such a different concept than our throw-away culture teaches.
Mama K – Yes, old treasures are exciting and unexpected!
What a beautiful post!
What a beautiful picture of restoration!
Delighted to meet you today! Hope you don’t mind if I splash around a bit to get to know you. This looks like a refreshing place to get drenched in goodness.
Splashin,
Sara
Oh, Charity, another beautiful post! I love the analogy.
I liked the part about the bottles feeling at home. 🙂
The blue is especially wonderful!
When my boys were young, they found a spot on our land that they called “The Dig” because that is what they did there. It was where someone buried trash years ago, apparently, and all that was left anymore was old bottles and vases. To my boys, it was treasure!
Beautiful post. Beautiful pictures. As it turns out, I am reclaiming something old today, too! I just posted pictures of my father’s old desk workbench. How fun to find you cleaning up old treasures also!
Lost/Found. Buried/Unearthed. Dirty/Clean. Forgotten/Treasured. Homeless/Home. Beauty and Value gained over time. What a beautiful post, Charity.
Yes. Sometimes one can find interesting things buried. I wonder if that was someone’s way of burying junk, or if in some bygone day someone buried some jars which they treasured.