PEARLS TO SWINE

There has always been a little chaos. The way we would be just sitting down for supper when the warnings came. The way we would huddle under desks in dank basements until the wild winds tamed.

It must be the tornadoes of a Kansas childhood that taught me to make uncertainty my friend.

Above the noise, or maybe in the midst of it, my heart has always made sense of what my head cannot through words, organizing them into mantras that have served as grounding refuge throughout the wrestling, grappling seasons of a changeable life.

Three of my most-impactful mantras are written here. Most of you who are nearest to me know how the first two turned out, how everything I've gone through these past two years has challenged these beliefs—

Chemotherapy is a poison that I will never subject myself to.

I will go to my grave with all my body parts.

Even in context of what I've recently endured,  

I still find this third mantra to be the most profound—

I REVERE MY ABILITY TO NAVIGATE PEOPLE.

That little girl who rose from a Topeka basement to see nothing but destruction for miles and miles would now whisper softly to her grown counterpart, “Of course you do.”

That’s what a little chaos, piled on top of a little more, will create…

the belief that controlling the uncontrollable is the only way to survive in an unsafe world.  

Why do some of us seek out situations that bring us frustration and grief?

Why is it that we sometimes give our best to those who value it the least?

That ability to navigate difficult people and circumstance became, in so many ways, the definition of my self-worth. And I was exhausted and frustrated much of the time, until I internalized my Creator’s words—Do not cast your pearls to swine.

I had misunderstood that my strand was long and unending, that my emotional and physical energy was as limitless as my pearls. But the circumstances of recent days have profoundly shifted how I interpret that scripture, how I view the world.

And this is the revelation I am compelled to share—

—We, every one of us, come into the world with a strand of pearls

[our giftings]

—The strand, like us, is finite…it has a beginning and an end

[our humanness]

—We are responsible for appropriating what we have to give

[our stewardship]

There are those who seize our pearls without consciousness or regret. These are the ones who shorten our strand, who take without giving and who, given the opportunity, will take and take again.

The curious thing is we most often know exactly who these people are.

Still, we make them our “project—”

—Giving them the best while neglecting others we love and respect

—Believing in them more than they believe in themselves

—Allowing destructive behavior to infiltrate our lives

—Deriving our self-worth in becoming involved in impossible situations that seem to have no end

Here’s the most extraordinary thing about people and pearls—

There are rare humans who lengthen our strand—

—Sometimes we feel it happening without a word being said

—There’s an energy that permeates the room and within

—You feel as if what is spoken is meant just for you

—You are energized, not depleted from the exchange

—There is a mutual understanding that they feel it too

I have been in crowded rooms when someone I least expect lengthens my strand through a simple handshake or breathtaking smile. "He is giving you pearls," I've heard God whisper time after time. I do not dismiss what transpires as momentary or benign. These are life-giving moments that change the trajectory of everything I am. The precise opposite of casting pearls to swine.

I seek out these supernatural encounters now, opportunities in both the giving and receiving. The world may often appear hostile and indifferent but I have learned to turn away from what steals the best of me and run to what edifies and fills.

Matthew 7:6“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to swine. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.

I had to—

Although the subject is serious I had this image in my mind and my exquisite goddaughter, Brittney [Mauricio] Lopez captured it with perfection.

The pig’s name is Hammie living his best life on the Lopez farm in Tennessee... and, well, he most definitely is a ham. I think it’s ok to be both serious and playful at the same time. It has to be.

The most important thing is to never, ever lose your joy.