A Journal of a Thousand Gifts

I've been struck so much lately by how much pain we human beings seem to bear.  I know so many people (myself included) who are struggling these days.  Unemployment, sick children, cancer, financial woes, the death of loved ones, loneliness, physical infirmity, relationship issues, and infertility are only a few examples.

It truly never ends. We get one problem cleared up and another one surfaces.  Life is never perfect.  It is always a battle. Always.  

If you're at all like me, you're weary of the struggle.  Sick and tired of sick and tired.  More and more I find myself wanting to take all my toys and go home until Life agrees to play nicely.  While I enjoy a good wallow in self-pity  more than occasionally, I'm starting to see Discouragement and Despair taking up more permanent residence in my heart (reminding me a bit of these commercials).  

I need a spiritual expectorant to force this soul illness to take a hike. 

Knowing I have to do SOMETHING is one thing.  Knowing what that something IS is quite another thing.  I must admit, my tactic this time is not one I've tried before. This tactic is also not my idea.

In January my friend Joline (creator of and co-contributor with me at  dailyfastfuel.com) wrote a blog post about a book.  I had never heard of the book but the post stuck with me.  A couple of months later, on a Tuesday, my friend Kay gave me a copy of this very book.  I was touched and intended to read it, but managed to lay it on top of the "One Dozen Books I Want To Read" Pile.  Then that very Friday, my friend Julie sent me a facebook message about this book that she kept thinking I would really like. 

OKAY, GOD, OKAY!  I'm getting the message!  I'll read the book!

And then I proceeded to leave it on the top of The Pile for another couple of months.  

FINALLY I have succumbed to the guilt shame conviction and started reading, albeit VERY slowly.  The book is called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  This is not a book you can plow through.  It must be savored, contemplated, allowed to percolate.  

I also need to read it slowly because I can only take so much at once.  Having the toes of my heart stepped on, no matter how gently, is NOT fun.  But I can already feel a shift happening, the realization that I too need to have my life transformed by Grace, Thanksgiving and Joy. 

So to that end I have bought a journal.  As of this minute I haven't written anything in the journal other than the circumstances leading up to the purchase of the journal, but it's a start.  The toes of my heart are getting stronger and I'm procrastinating taking baby steps. A journal of a thousand gifts begins with a single entry.

All I have to lose are Discouragement and Despair.

All I have to gain is...well...I can't really imagine just yet.

I'm only on page 58.  :)

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.