PEARLS

~by Deborah Selby

Today I wear pearls.

Yesterday I would have been too bashful,

after all I’m such an ordinary, farmish sort of person.

But He slipped them on me unawares…

the secret surprise of a passionate Lover.

It startled me to look down and see them

Lavish white upon my skin.

Drawn from the liquid depths

and womb of pain,

each reflects some brilliant grace, some rare delight.

And I, an ordinary woman

More comfortable in denim and calico—

laugh with delight,

because today I wear pearls.

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” Writing for me is carving my name in the bark of this day to say, “I was here.  I actually lived these hours.”  We will not pass this way again and life is so fleeting.  Writing helps me catch and bottle a few of these moments.  Can them, maybe?  And write the date on the sealed lid!  Someday when we are old and in life’s winter, perhaps we’ll uncork the seals and enjoy the taste of summer again. “

~D. Selby

~Deborah Selby,  of Ellensburg, WA, is one of my dearest friends.

Besides being a wife and mommy and carrying on a host of other duties…

she is an incredibly gifted writer.

~Enjoy~

It is that bleak midwinter when I pad around the house with knee length woolen socks, fuzzy slippers, and about five extra pounds of sweater. Neat freak though I am, these comforting Goodwill garments hang from the back of every chair, crowd the bathroom hooks, and lay in piles on the stairs, trodden underfoot. The ten degree weather rages outside our little cottage, and though it is snug , I still feel the reaching, twisted, icy fingers of Jack Frost slipping through the cracks in windows and doors and brushing up against the back of my neck. At one point this week, I was wearing three layers plus a fleece vest.

“The fact is there is nothing that we are doing that God could not raise up a stone in the field to do for Him.  This realization of this puts us in our true place.  Though, lest we get too knocked down by such a realization of our insignificance, let me hasten to add that there is one thing that we alone can give God…and that is our personal love.  No one else can give God our personal love.  This is our great significance.” ~M. Basil Pennington

So many women and Christian wives that I have known, including myself, have this deep desire to be a part of some legendary love story…some great romance that not only fulfills a personal need, but leaves an impact on surrounding loved ones and society at large. There are materials, books, media sources, and bible studies beckoning us with the hope of becoming more loveable, more wholesomely alluring…of becoming that which draws in and inspires. We latch tight to the prerequisite of femininity… the role of being the protected, cherished, rescued, and pursued. We wait and we wonder why it is that our epic journey has yet to begin…swallowing our resentment at the lack of initiation which seems to encumber our beloved.

We tried so hard

and chased so long

the cooing Dove…

my son and I,

both hearts

racing,

broken,

reaching to catch

elusive Peace

that fluttered

always

just beyond

our reach.