There’s a proverb, according to the Aramaic translation, which reads: “A house is built by wisdom and by understanding it is entirely put in good order. And the inner chambers are filled by knowledge with every possession, honor, and delight.”
But it’s not brick and motor, cabinets and furniture, or trinkets of one kind or another that are here referred to.
That last phrase, alternatively translated, is a reference to children and grandchildren, described in this same proverb as “rare and beautiful treasures.”
It’s their giggles – tickled till they gasp for air – that seem even yet to echo from the walls long after they’ve grown and gone.
It’s their scribbled drawings of alien creatures that even now bring a chuckle as the pages of the scrapbook are turned. For the long spindly arms and legs, the somewhat distinguishable faces where, for the first time, eyebrows – such as they are, and ears and hair – they are theirs, and yours, as seen through the admiring artist eyes of a three-year-old.
It’s their puddle – and yours because, after all, when all is said and done – their hand in yours is how sheer splashing joy – and life – is best experienced:
To have, together, so adorned the hallowed hallways of the home with memories like wallpaper; to have together traipsed hand-in-hand the muddy furrows of the field:
These are rare and beautiful treasures.