Rainbow in a Pew: A Story of a Promise Kept

Our whole family squeezed into the pew that beautiful Sunday morning, but I made sure I got to sit by my Grandma Benedict. She always had a notebook, pencil, and mints she would pull from her purse to keep me occupied during the sermon.

But my favorite distraction wasn't the drawing; it was the stained glass windows and the light.

One of my favorite memories from my childhood church- McLean Methodist in Illinois. Imprinted on my heart forever- my Good Shepherd, Jesus, lovingly caring and leading His sheep.

Those beautiful stained glass windows were stunning in the early morning sunlight. My favorite window was a depiction of Jesus holding a lamb in His arms. I would imagine that it was me snuggled and safe. The light would slant through the stained glass of the church windows, hitting the pews just right. I remember the feeling of complete love and contentment on those Sunday mornings, as I drew little pictures while Grandma softly patted my arm.

But the best memory was when Grandma would take her ring off and give it to me to wear during church. The ring was a stunning, large, emerald-cut amethyst. I would twist my hand back and forth, watching the sunbeams hit that deep purple stone. It would refract into a thousand tiny rainbows that danced across my notebook or pew.

"One day," she’d whisper, "when I’m done with it, this ring will be yours. We share more than a birthday month, we share so much love."

As a child, I didn’t grasp what "done with it" meant. I just knew the ring was beautiful. But as I grew older, the realization hit me: for the ring to be mine, she would have to be gone. And I didn't want the ring; I wanted her.

“A good person leaves and inheritance for their children’s children” Prov. 13:22

A grandmother's love is a legacy that lives on through generations

Here’s my sweet Grandma Benedict. I’m bummed that I couldn’t find the pics of her and I when I was little- but it could take months before I actually sort all the old pictures into a timeline.

The Missing Treasure

Grandma lived to see me married and even met our first daughter, Sarah Joy. The day finally came where I had to say goodbye to one of the most loving people I’d ever known. I had no doubt she was in heaven having a wonderful time with those who had gone before her, but I missed her comforting presence.

I wondered briefly about the ring but it was like it had vanished. Amidst the fog of grief, no specific details in her will, and the awkwardness of not knowing if I should ask about the ring, I decided I shouldn’t ask. Years turned into decades.

I knew I had the real treasure from Grandma: the legacy of faith she modeled, the way she made me feel seen, and the unconditional love she poured into my life. That was eternal, lasting treasure."

A Secret QUEST

Fast forward over forty years. My oldest daughter, Sarah, was chatting with my cousin Joyce. Somehow, the topic of the amethyst ring came up. Sarah mentioned how I had always told her how much I loved “playing” with Grandma’s ring in our pew.

Joyce mentioned she had the ring—it had traveled through the family and ended up tucked away in her home in Illinois. "I always thought this should have gone to Cindy," Joyce told her. "I don't even wear it."

When Sarah told me the whole saga later, I was stunned.

But getting it to Lawrence, Kansas, wasn't as simple as dropping it in the mail. The ring was irreplaceable, and the risk was too high. So, Sarah did what a daughter of legacy does: she took matters into her own hands.

At 3:30 AM, before the sun was even up, Sarah hit the road. It took her about 7 hours to drive Illinois, spent a few precious hours with Joyce, reclaimed the ring, and turned right back around and drove 7 hours back home. Did I mention she was also working. She even had to stop a couple of times to do some conference calls! Her quest had taken her 16 hours to accomplish in a single day. Sarah was fueled by love, caffeine and the desire to bring a piece of my childhood home.

Sarah Joy connects with my cousin, Joyce Elaine. They spent a couple of hours laughing and talking as if they’d always known each other. It reminded me that family is family, even when you don’t know them well; somehow you feel a soul-deep connection.

The Scavenger Hunt Surprise

A few days later, right before Mother’s Day, Sarah, Jeff, and I were downtown Lawrence, leading a scavenger hunt event with our Friday Friends—a group of incredible young adults with special needs. We ended at Silas & Maddie's as the finale of the “hunt”.

There we were, crowded into the basement, laughing and eating ice cream. I looked around, a little surprised and confused to see some of our other family gathered there. What was everyone doing here I thought? They weren’t part of the hunt.

In the middle of all that beautiful chaos, Sarah pulled me aside. She handed me a poem and told me it was my last clue to solve of my own personal scavenger hunt. I read the poem- once, then twice.

Confused but intrigued, my heart beat faster as I wondered if it had something to do with Grandma’s ring- but it couldn’t possibly be, could it?

Here I am- reading the “last clue”, trying to figure out what the mystery was all about while holding a granddaughter- I was about to be reconnected in a very real way, to my childhood!

Sarah handed me a very old jewelry ring box. I hesitated in disbelief. Finally, I opened it, the world seemed to go quiet. There it was. The amethyst. The emerald cut. The same stone that had cast rainbows on my notebook and in my heart over forty years earlier.

Sarah, Moriah, Bethany, Cadence, and Thea - take a turn of celebrating, admiring and trying on Grandma’s ring.

My daughters and granddaughters pressed in, faces glowing with excitement. In that beautiful, chaotic huddle, my heart overflowed because everyone there understood and shared my joy! My granddaughters seemed to be in awe that I—their “grandma” (aka Nana)—was getting so much joy from something that belonged to my grandma. In that moment, I think they realized I was once a little girl just like them, and that I loved my grandmother as much as they love me."

Much More Than a Stone

Grandma Benedict was 'done with it,' but Sarah’s heart didn’t let the story end there. Her cross-country trek wasn't just about a delivery; it was a precious act of love from someone who always seems to know exactly how to find the 'heart' of a moment and turn it into a blessing for others. Then she opened the circle to others so we could celebrate as a family. To Sarah, the thrill wasn't just in the surprise; it was in seeing our heritage restored and watching the whole family celebrate the reconnection of a story that was never truly broken.

I’m reminded that while we shouldn’t cling too tightly to "things”, that sometimes objects serve as a physical bridge to the people who shaped us. Today, when I look at this ring, I don't just see a birthday stone. I see God dropping a joyful plot twist in my life story, a grandmother’s promise fulfilled, a cousin’s kindness, and a daughter’s sacrifice.

This amethyst wasn't just a stone; it was a bridge to a promise made forty years ago. What is one 'treasure' from your past—a photo, a piece of jewelry, or even a handwritten note—that still casts a rainbow in your life today? I’d love to hear the story behind it in the comments!

Let’s rejoice in family today- because God made the generations for a purpose; for the blessing of identity, belonging, and connection.- Cindy