Oma B's Dishes

My Oma died when I was in high school. As grandchildren, we were each allowed to choose something from her or her house that we thought we might like: a momento to remember her and my Opa.
I chose some of her dishes, her good set.
For my grandparents, this was a set of dishes that had been sought after - hard. Some were given as a wedding gift to them. Some were bought, piece by piece each year with the few extra dollars they had been able to save up for that year. They were used and stored with pride and care. It was their way of saying, "Look, we've done well."
Naturally, being in high school, I had no use for a set of dishes, "good" or otherwise, and so they were packed in a box until I "grew up" and could put them to better use.
Somewhere along the line - I am not exactly sure where - apparently I grew up. I even have lots of "grown up" things: a husband, children, a mortgage, a kitchen to call my own. I moved a dozen-ish times "somewhere along the line" time frame. The [heavy] box, with "Oma B's Dishes" written neatly on the top corner followed me on some (but not all) of the moves. It was patiently waiting for me to unpack it and find it a good and useful spot, in my always-imagined but never-owned hutch that could hold them for those special occasions when "good dishes" are required.
Some time ago I came to the realization that I will never have use for these rose-budded, gold-lined bone china dishes. The logistics and practicality of unpacking them and storing them and finding space for them - kitchen space and otherwise - is just not a priority. Many are cracked, chipped, stained, scratched, the gold-edges coming off.
This knowledge has saddened me. Not because of the sentimental value of my Oma's dishes - I have plenty of memories of her and my Opa without needing the dishes. What saddens me is the sacrifice and penny-pinching that she and so many of her generation did over the years to purchase these dishes. How many children were spanked or belittled for chipping a dish? How much time was put into collecting this "stuff."
And now:
Nobody - not even her granddaughters - want them? Her pinnacle of success would be hard done by to get $10 at the local thrift shop.
I cannot help but think of the verse in Matthew that tells us not to store up for ourselves treasure on earth. For truly...what is the point?
And I cannot help but wonder: what is the "Oma B's Dishes" in my life?