Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

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A Cross in the Sand

By Lana L. Comstock

I wasn't abused as a child. I just felt, well, lonely, neglected and unloved. I

don't think it was my parents' fault necessarily. I just wasn't a happy kid.

My family did not attend church. I had never even set foot in one. We weren't

rich, but we had enough money to take a beautiful trip to Florida every

Christmas. Of course, my parents loved to tease me about Santa not doing address

changes very well. But every year packages marked " From Santa " made their way to

our motel room.

One morning in Florida, I had decided to play in the warm, white sand with my

shiny new pail and shovel. My parents weren't going to the beach, so I settled

for digging in the motel courtyard. I looked at the sandy field, sparsely

covered with tropical weeds. I set out to find the best spot to create my sandy

masterpiece. I chose a place way out in the middle, sat down contentedly and

began to dig.

About four inches down, my shovel clinked on something. I was always dreaming of

finding lost pirate treasures or being the first one to find an unopened genie

bottle. Therefore, it wasn't a stretch for me to think I had hit the jackpot.

However, my little shovel had uncovered a treasure of a much different sort. It

was a small, silver cross. I turned it over and over in my hands, looking at it

as the sun made it glow brightly. Etched on the back of the cross were words I

could just barely make out: " Jesus Christ is Lord. " I wasn't sure what that

meant. I never showed anyone the cross, but kept it hidden as one of my prized

possessions, only taking it out when no one was around. To me, it wasn't just a

cross; it was a sign.

During high school, I was a typical teen. I sought out fun and trouble, but

rarely got caught for it. My life was going downhill fast, but I thought it was

perfectly under control, except for the emptiness inside that I couldn't account

for. Sometime during my sophomore year, I decided I wanted to know about God.

Most of the church services I attended with my friends were good, but one was

life-changing. As the music began to play, I was consumed, and I felt Him. He

was the One I had been searching for. He was the One who had been calling me.

The pastor called for those who didn't know Him to come forward. I couldn't have

stopped my feet if I had wanted to. He prayed, I prayed, and my life was never

again the same. I went home and wept with joy. A seemingly lifelong void was

finally filled. For some reason, I am quite sure my search began the day I hit

metal with my little shovel and found a cross that said, " Jesus Christ is Lord. "

Now I no longer have to dig to find my treasures. All the treasures I'll ever

need are just a prayer away.