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Digging through Christmas decorations this year sparked memories of a December 1977 trip to Saltillo, Mexico. Before cell phones and the internet, traveling meant we often didn’t know much about where we were going, as was true that year.

We received a letter stating that we were invited to the Ninth International Boy Singers Festival, which would be held in Saltillo during the Christmas holidays. The various boy choirs would be combined into one that would practice in Saltillo and perform several concerts in different places.

Monty and I boarded a bus with our eight- and nine-year-old sons, along with other excited boys from our local Baytown Boys’ Choir who were representing Texas. At the Mexican border, we changed to a Mexican bus that took us everywhere thereafter.

Our first stop was the Casa de Lourdes, a convent housing all of us. The nuns cooked all our meals and took good care of us—although most of us were not used to eating beans three times a day. After some negotiations between the boys and the nuns trying to find something more to the liking of many American youth used to hamburgers and french fries, we began getting “other things” along with the beans. The meals became more satisfying to the boys, which was good since we would be there for nearly a week.

Many activities were planned for the boys besides all the choir practices. There was an exhibition bullfight/rodeo for them where they got to visit with the matador and a special reception at the home of Governor Oscar Flores Tapia of the state of Coahuila, Mexico. (That is eight-year-old David with the Governor in the picture below.) One of their many concerts was held at a girls’ orphanage that hosted a piñata party afterward with lots of treats and fireworks.

Saltillo is nestled in the mountains and is 1724 meters (5,656 feet) above sea level, whereas we were only 23 feet above sea level at home on the Texas Gulf Coast. So Saltillo is comfortable in the daytime but can have cold nights in December. 

Regarding our accommodations at the convent, I knew Monty and I would have a room for two, but I didn’t know each twin bed was built into the wall. On our first night, I discovered only one blanket on each bed. Thinking I would sleep warmer if we combined our two blankets, I climbed into the twin bed with Monty. Big mistake. Two adults on a twin mattress submerged inside a wooden frame do not sleep comfortably, although I was warm.

The following day, at breakfast, others exclaimed how amazed they were that their one blanket was enough to keep them warm. We all discovered those thick-as-a-hand blankets, made of very dense wool, were excellent. They were so marvelous that I began trying to find out how to buy some to take back home as gifts. Thus, we ended up with a hand-drawn map showing us how to go to their big city market, where we could buy similar blankets to take home. However—we were warned—“Keep your blond-headed boys close to you and always in your sight!”

I’m not sure our two independent sons appreciated “hovering” parents until they encountered strangers on the street who would walk up (sometimes from behind) and run a hand through their blond hair. Our nine-year-old Charles was especially freaked out that strangers felt free to walk up and run their hands through his blond hair without asking permission.

That should have prepared them for the choir practices and concerts. It became common for me to glance up from my seat and see Charles ducking to avoid an outstretched arm coming from behind him to “feel his hair.” With all the pictures shared online, this probably would not be the case now. But in 1977, blond hair on a young boy was a show-stopper for some people. Even today, I often smile as I think of Saltillo and watching a mysterious hand come from somewhere to “feel” blond hair.

Even though none of us spoke Spanish, I was delighted we walked to the market because we stopped in several small shops on the way back to the convent. In one shop, I was puzzled by a container of seemingly ordinary rocks with rough exteriors. However, the owner showed me what a surprise awaited once he cut open these ordinary-looking rocks: mini geodes, one of nature’s most spectacular treasures. 

Most geodes look like ordinary rocks and are characterized by their spherical shapes and hollow interior. You often find an internal cavity lined with vibrant, pointed crystals. The size, color, and pattern of these crystals vary depending on the minerals in the water filling the cavity, making each geode a unique and natural work of art. I’ve since discovered that the geodes formed in areas of volcanic activity are the most sought-after due to their often exquisite crystal formations and variety.

Although geodes are found worldwide, they are not found randomly here and there. They are usually found in large areas where the rocks have formed in a special geochemical environment.

I was smitten with how an uninteresting rock could contain such beautiful clusters of gem crystals, colorful linings of banded agate, or both in the same cavity. I became hooked on geodes after stumbling across Saltillo, a center for the tiny-thumb-sized geodes found not far from there.

I bought several that had been cut in half and, over the years, have picked up even more. Their ordinary-looking exterior reminds me of how some people think of themselves as “rather ordinary” and fail to realize that God is concerned about their “inside beauty”—similar to the geode, God is slowly building that interior beauty. Geodes also remind me of how important it is not to judge someone by what you “see” because many treasures may be hidden inside and not visible.

For many years, I held onto one particularly beautiful geode with bands of red, green, and black around its center of white crystals because it reminded me that regardless of the testing I was going through, I found it encouraging to think that God might be using that “trial” to form hidden beauty inside me as I saw in that particular geode.

As I think back over my eight decades, there are many things I didn’t realize (at first) had any hidden beauty or blessing hiding inside for me. But, as the years went by, I can now look back and realize the pain (like the water for the geode) was using the mix of circumstances to bring a hidden blessing within me that I didn’t recognize until years later. Geodes have been tiny reminders to me of 1 Corinthians 10:13 in that they illustrate how the ordinary and painful tests come with hidden blessings from God that it may take me years to realize.

“No temptation [testing, trial, challenging circumstance] has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted [tested] beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear [endure] it.”  1 Corinthians 10:13 (NKJV) [my explanatory additions are inserted] Trials can be seen as opportunities for growth and demonstrations of faithfulness to God. Or, if thinking of the geode, trials could be seen as a time of building inner beauty.