Grace … in media res
“In the Middle of Things”
Between our creaking dock
and the park’s rocky point,
leaching blue
from Fowler Lake’s surface,
the perilous sandbar lurked.
Rowing across it one day,
I spied my future:
strewn across restless sand,
a scatter of strange shells.
Shells meant PEARLS.
And P.E.A.R.L.S. meant . . . CA$H!
Any kid who loves books
can tell you
• Pearls fall from the sky
when dragons fight, and
• Pearls always match the color
of the host oyster’s lips, and
• Pearls are made of moonlight,
trapped inside dew
The part about salt water?—
completely escaped my notice.
What would I buy first?
Sixty Years later
As a kid obsessed with treasure I’d probably spotted freshwater mussels. My schemes of wealth now seem endearing.
But the wide-open heart, the hope and dreaming … this is still me.
Especially in media res, “in the middle of things.”
It is the hour of pearl, Steinbeck wrote, the interval between day and night when time stops and examines itself.
Isn’t this how we often awaken, half-aware
• the dog wants breakfast
• deadlines loom
• chores clamor
• sellers may reject our bids
• loved ones battle disease
• hopes wane
• relationships fray
Where are the PEARLS?
Pain proves annoyingly democratic:
and almost all shelled mollusks afflicted by broken shells, or parasites, or one measly grain of sand can—incrementally—create a living gem.
… the pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.*
We mortals, too, must process harm and grit and doses of brine, withstand rogue currents and shifting ground—while keeping our (eventual) luster hopefully strung through average days.
Give me room. I’m trying to make pearls here.
No.
I’m trying to save my self.
And I can’t.
Grace is weightless
And wait-less, I’d add.
Grace is a gleam in the soul. It soothes and guards us against each day’s irritations and intrusions.
Grace is a pulling force, attracted to tacit fear and each relational shard we secretly harbor, or overlook, the mediocrity chafing our days and thoughts, our loves, and lives.
Grace lurks.
And it shifts, as needed, to meet our next breath.
Singular as each whorl
embossing our fingertips,
every pearl embodies
opalescence alongside
insult and imperfection.
Grace waits for us at the imminent, ravaged ends of hope.
Any pearl sightings at your place lately?
Update: Our daughter Kristin has surgery Dec. 18, and Dreamer has an EMG (to assess health of muscles and motor neurons) on Dec. 21 with a follow-up evaluation Dec. 31. Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers.
I am also so grateful for your support of this blog. May grace and peace newly delight and envelop you all this Christmas season!
*Frederico Fellini, Italian film director and screenwriter.
This post was so beautiful it took me to places visually like a journey of wonder. You expressed pain in beautiful metaphors causing the journey to be holy. I know God will see you through for you too are a beautiful work of art. Praying for Kristin and Bill and you.
Dear Gena, thank you for letting the words transport you and, even more, for making the journey toward hope alongside us. We appreciate you and the shared years of love and faithful friendship and prayers so much. The surgeon said it went well today. 🙂
As always, thank you for sharing from the heart and with great beauty. Wishing you continued grit and grace especially in this season that holds both challenges and celebration.
April, sincere thanks and gratitude. I’m latching onto your word “continued” with a quiet nod of my head tonight.
Grit/grace/challenge/celebration: seeing those four nouns visually sharing space (almost holding hands in the sentence) does me good.
Also, I am so glad to have read YOUR post today.
There are no adequate words to express my deepest appreciation for the way you spin the grit into pearls. Praying with you and for you, in all this “in media res”.
Dear Pacia, thank you so much. I think of your marvelous works of clay and how you, too, spin grit into beauty. No wonder we connected, right from the start. 🙂 Merry Christmas, friend!
Oh my, so many reasons to be on the lookout for pearls….my friend. Praying for you all in this season of media res and “each day’s irritations and intrusions.”
Oh I do like that phrase, “on the lookout”! It sounds proactive and expectant, just what I hope to be in these coming days. Thank you so much for your prayers, Jody.
“Give me room. I’m trying to make pearls here.” LOVE THAT! Oh, Lord, help me make pearls out of annoyances, interruptions, uncertainties, inconveniences, etc. Thank you for the recent pearl sightings of granddaughter laughter, genuine concern, on-the-spot prayer, wise advice, and unexpected encouragement. You DO provide glorious opalescence alongside the insult and imperfection of this world. / Thank you, Laurie, for artfully turning our focus from irritation to iridescence!
Nancy, your pearl sightings! Marvelous. Thanks so much for sharing them. You open my eyes to more possibilities.
And your closing line: “irritation to iridescence” . . . wouldn’t that be a great journal cover?!
Or we could design a t-shirt . . .
Or best of all: simply embody the concept. 🙂 Merry Christmas, friend!
Oh, amazing! You seem to write what God has been working in my heart all along. Thank you friend!
Give Grace, Take Joy! 💜
Katherine
Amazing, indeed. 🙂 And I still love your signature line (including the little piece of shared history it represents). Merry Christmas to you!
Praying for your family, and watching for grace.
Kathleen, thank you for keeping watch with me. Such tender threads between long-distance friends.
Laurie, you have a way of distilling things too large or opaque or vague to focus our inner Eye upon. Clarity doesn’t “come easy;” we are all born half-Blind. Somehow John 9:6 fits in here: The blind man, the mud of earth, the spittle of God. The Ultimate “natural remedy” that blended earth & heaven. That crowns the oyster with the rasp of a bit of grit. That gives you a Song that opens up your deafness. And ours.
Here’s mud in your eye, girl!
Hello, dear Judith. Your words , as ever, make me smile. And think. So often I wonder if I am diluting, rather than distilling. I’m glad to know this was a case of the latter. What an encouragement you are!
Your language arrests me—the verb “crown,” especially. It helps me view “the rasp … of grit” as an intentional act of entrusting the critter with a dose of pain, a divinely loving largess (in disguise). Thanks for widening my view.
And YES to the mud that expands our senses! 🙂
Laurie,
Beautiful thoughts and images:
“Pearls are made of moonlight, trapped inside dew.”
“It is the hour of pearl – Steinbeck wrote, the interval between day and night
when time stops and examines itself.”
“. . .the pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.” Frederico Fellini
Blessings to you and yours this Advent:)
Gratefully,
Katie
Katie, thank you so much for stopping by and letting me know which images and ideas struck you. That is so helpful and encouraging! I loved the sentences you chose as well when I stumbled upon them. Wishing you joy this whole month!