You've heard the MasterCard commercials, I'm sure. They go something like this: "Two shirts and a dress - $14. Trip to the salon - $78. Groceries - $66. Knowing someone has your back - priceless."
Aside from my relationship with Jesus, this would be my "priceless"...
At the end of an evening meal, Mom (my mother-in-law) would habitually ask, "You want black coffee?" Joe always said yes; I always said no. I do not drink espresso, but Joe grew up on it. Dinner wasn't complete until the espresso - or "black coffee" as Mom called it - was brewed in her little pot that had once belonged to her mother.
That little pot survived the 3-week boat trek from Italy to America in about 1926. I think to Mom that little pot was priceless - a treasure from her homeland, passed down from her mother. She would "cook" the black coffee in that little pot on a gas stove. Sometimes, if Mom got distracted, the little pot would spew a black mess all over the place. The truth be told, I was a little afraid of that odd-looking coffee pot because it would erupt like a volcano if one didn't tend to it and time it exactly right. Sometimes, she would have to dump it out, clean out the pot, clean up the stove, and start all over. And she did it with a smile on her face. Making good black coffee was just as important as a good pot of sauce. Mom would serve it in little demitasse cups. She would finally sit at the table with her broad smile and upon her first sip, she would always enthusiastically exclaim, "Aah..."
When I was a newlywed, I took ceramics classes. I made a few different things for Mom over the years. But, one of my first designs was a set of demitasse cups and saucers that I gave her for Christmas. She proudly kept them in her china cabinet next to her "good" dishes. She wouldn't use them for everyday black-coffee drinking. She only brought them out on holidays or when relatives came to visit. To her they were priceless just because I made them.
The one thing my first-born son wanted of Grandma's belongings after she passed on was her black coffee pot. He also took her demitasse cups - the everyday ones and the "good ones". They are proudly on displayed on a shelf in his kitchen. I think to him they are a priceless gift of his heritage.
Homemade black coffee - $5.
Mom's coffee pot - $100.
To have it served from Mom's hand just one more time - priceless.
What would be priceless to you?
Because of Him and Unto Him,