My Plastic Pearls

This morning I filled the last page of a journal. I am a "journaler" and I literally have dozens of them. What for? I don't know, maybe they'll make a book out of them someday. You will find it under the category: highly emotional non-fiction. :) Not really. My journaling mostly consists of my written out conversations with God about life. I take Psalm 62:8 seriously, "Pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge." And there is nothing more perfect to do on a cloudy, rainy morning like today with a cup of coffee and a sleeping household.

However, ending a journal is usually no problem for me because putting my pen to the first empty page of a brand new, crisp journal is thrilling. (A little nerdy, perhaps.) I usually just ramble on about nothing at the end of journals, just to use up the last few pages so I can get to the new journal. But this time it was different. No doubt about it, the older you get, the faster time flies, and the harder it is to let go of things! You start to question yourself much more: Did I do enough? Did I enjoy my kids enough? Has the past season made a difference? Did it matter? You would think that the longer you've experienced life and what it's like to trust God, the easier it would be to trust Him in the future. Not necessarily.

I find myself in this place of trust, yet again. When you're younger and figuring life out, everything is an adventure and you don't spend much time looking behind. But when you're surrounded by little adorable blessings called "children" and you're in the thick of this season of mothering, parenting, growing, and changes... It feels like someone's hand is on your back, pushing you forward while you're still looking back trying to figure out what just happened!

But I was reminded this morning of one of my favorite little stories. It's about a little girl who had a string of pearls. They were plastic, but to her, they were the most precious thing she had. She wore them to breakfast, she wore them to school, she wore them in the bathtub and even in bed. They made her feel so lady-like and beautiful, just like her mama. One night, while her daddy was tucking her in bed, he asked if she would give him her pearls. She shook her head, "No, no, no Daddy", with her little hands protectively on her neck. He kissed her goodnight and closed the door. The next night, again, he asked for her pearls. Again she said no, with confusion in her eyes. Several nights, her daddy kept asking and finally she said, "Daddy, why do you want to take my pearls away?" He said, "Baby, I love you and I want the best for you. Can you trust me and give me your pearls?" She didn't understand but she knew her daddy loved her, so with huge tears welling up in her big eyes, she took the necklace off and put it in his hand. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful string of real pearls! They were so beautiful and elegant. The little girl had never seen a prettier necklace and the joy in her heart and love for her daddy nearly exploded as he fastened the real pearls around her little neck.

Trusting God is a choice we have to make over and over, and it doesn't always get easier. It's not usually a decision accompanied by laughter and dancing. It's a firm determination to let God be God. But not in a far-off manner; in a close, loving Daddy way.