Pearls

I have had a special place in my heart for pearls for as long as I can remember. My mother, to this day, wears a ring she received from her parents for her high school graduation, with two pearls set in gold. One of my earliest memories is admiring this ring. I received a pearl ring from my parents for my graduation, but I kept losing the pearls and so now I have it in a special box for safe keeping. I have various strands of pearls, both real and imitation, that I have acquired over the years, various lengths and various diameters for various occasions.
I also have a sensitivity to metal, and so it bothers my skin to wear most jewelry. Gold and silver chains itch my neck, and I may never get to wear earrings again. Even watchbands tend to bother me. But pearls, ah, I can wear pearls all the livelong day. And thanks to Coco Chanel, pearls are classic and still contemporary. Nothing says luxury to me like a long strand of pearls draped around a woman's neck...
But it wasn't until today that I realized their symbolism.
A pearl is formed when a foreign body embeds itself inside an oyster. The oyster coats the particle with a natural secretion, and over time the many layers of this coating become the beautiful gem. A thing of beauty with pain at its core.
How many "foreign bodies" have embedded themselves in my life? How many times have I cursed the pain, or asked God to take it away, or simply whined, "Why me?" But then I (usually, eventually) quit whining and walk through the pain, praying I learn the lessons I need to learn. Day by day, prayer by prayer, layer by layer, He transforms my pain into something beautiful. Maybe that beauty is character. Maybe it is a softened heart. Maybe it is knowledge. Very likely it is something that resembles... my favorite jewelry.
I'll never see pearls in the same way again.