Producing Pearls

Yesterday's sermon at St. Ambrose Church included reflections upon a well-known biblical parable--about the guy who searches the world to find a pearl of great value. And, when he finds it, he sells everything that he owns to buy it. The point is clear, that the Word of God is a like a valuable pearl. It may be small and is easily lost. But to look at a perfect pearl is to see great beauty of unestimatable (is that a word?) value. It's worth searching the world to find.

Rather than focus on the big and flashy, sometimes it's what's small, beautiful and hard to find that is of real value. Sometimes small, hidden things are worth much more than what we show the world. When walking down the street we notice the flashy dressers, and the showy jewelry, but a generous spirit and a joyful heart are not immediately evident. Sometimes we need to search long and hard to find them. Like Neil Young sang, "Keep me searching for a heart of gold. I am a miner for a heart of gold. And I'm getting old."

Second point of Father Tim's sermon yesterday--and yes, I was listening despite all evidence otherwise--relates to how pearls are formed. It starts as a grain of sand, an irritant, that get's inside the oyster. To protect itself from this irritant, the oyster secretes a substance that surrounds the grain of sand, and, in time, a pearl is formed. Without on obnoxious intruder, that grain of sand, there would be no pearl.

The point to reflect upon is to think about those things in our life that annoy us, but make us better in the end. As Kanye West said so eloquently, "Th-th-that that don't kill me, can only make me stronger." Sometimes the irritating action require physical activity when we'd rather rest--like cutting the grass in the summer heat, or taking the dog for a walk after dinner. Those are things I'd rather not do, but in the end make me stronger. But more than the physical, there are chores in our lives, things we do out of a sense of responsibility, that help us be better persons.

Visiting my mother in her hospital, talking to Clarisa's 95-year-old great uncle on the telephone, passing the peace to every person within ten feet of me, requires me to stretch oh so slightly. But, in the end, I'm better for extending myself. Kindness and thoughtfulness require effort. It's so much easier to remain wrapped in my own thoughts than to empathize with others, especially those in pain. Empathy sometimes requires putting yourself in the shoes of someone old and alone. It sometimes means touching a person I'm not attracted to.

If your life was always smooth, with no pain or irritants, then we'd never change or grow. We'd just keep going along as always. However, as we encounter difficulties in life, irritants that drive us crazy, we find opportunities for growth and even beauty to emerge. It's as we adapt to hardship that the best parts of our character develop. As we deal with difficulty, we create for ourselves and for other pearls of inestimatable value.

Think about that next time you lend a hand to that annoying neighbor.