Of Pearls & Passion

 

LILLIAN SANDICO-VERGARA

Pearls have always fascinated me.  They add a subdued, quiet elegance to any
outfit.  They are versatile, perfect for day or nightwear.  They are durable, needing very little care. Because of the wide range of their quality and sources, they are generally accessible and affordable as a fashion accessory.

Literature abounds with myths and legends on pearls as attracting wealth and good luck, providing protection, extolling them as symbols for purity, integrity, loyalty, and generosity.   The Holy Bible refers to pearls as  “the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great
price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.” (Matthew 13:45-46)

Unlike most gems, pearls are not mined from mountains but are harvested from oceans’ depths, tucked in giant oysters. They are formed from the “tears” of giant clams or oysters, as nacre slowly wraps irritants, such as minute stones, scraps, fish eggs, that find their way inside the shells. Pearls are born from the suffering and pain of injured mollusks, so to speak. The process may take years:  the thicker the layers, the deeper the luster; the more perfect in shape and bigger in size, the more precious and rare.

Because pearls are desired, various techniques have been devised to cultivate pearl-forming clams and contrive
synthetic ones.  So how can you test if your pearls are real?  There are several ways: they’re gritty when rubbed against your teeth.  They have imperfections, making each one unique in character. They are cold but gradually warm up when worn longer.

But one dramatic test used by sellers is to bring the pearl close to a lighter. Why? Because real pearls will not burn nor scorch, nor will they emit a burning smell. Real pearls do not melt by fire.

I think of pearls and how they are metaphors for our lives.

In my life, God had “disturbed” my private, personal space just when I thought I was blessed with an ordinary, modestly successful life: a loving, responsible husband, children who completed academic degrees and found work immediately, jobs that sustained our lifestyle. We were ready to retire and finally reap the harvest, so to speak when God sent the “irritants” that tested how deeply I believed.

I went through a life-changing 8-day Ignatian retreat in 1998.  I got into it with the passion of someone who thought that the Spiritual Exercises were just that: exercises. If you zealously follow instructions, completing the four weeks of the Exercises would be a breeze.  Little did I know it would strip me bare of all rationalizations and justifications, and I would face my God in my sinful self.  At the end of the retreat, exhilarated by the joy of seeing God in a new light, I surrendered all that I had. For all was a gift.

A few years after, my husband was struck with a life-threatening disease.  It was a roller-coaster ride for four years that ended with one morning waking up, feeling him cold and lifeless beside me, just as I was packed and ready to leave for another retreat.  God could be tricky that way.

Not quite recovered from the loss but feeling it was time to spend more time with my children living abroad, I retired from work. I flew to the United States to be with my daughter to deliver her first baby. But just as I landed in San Francisco on a stopover, I got the news that she had bled and delivered the baby a few days ahead of schedule.  Unfortunately, she had a post-delivery complication, and by the time I reached the hospital, she was just being revived from an unexpected cardiac arrest. She passed on, at 34 years old, leaving a baby girl orphaned by her mother. God was indeed testing how sincerely I was willing to surrender all.

I must admit these two big blows left me drained – and angry with God.  A priest friend said I should stay with my feeling and continue to converse with God about how I felt. It would not help to deny it, even more, to evade the
question: why?

You cannot imagine the tears I have shed and the excruciating pain that lingers. Not only for the successive losses but the dreams and rewards I thought I deserved.  Empty and bare, still clueless why, I felt God wrapping me in His embrace, sending me family and friends to give me strength and support.

“A Pearl of Great Price”

Sometimes God tests our faith by putting us on fire.

Like that sliver of stone or shell, I imagine myself as having drifted into being, slowly covered in layers of wisdom that can only come from pain, the courage that comes from faith, and resilience that comes from hope.  It is a tedious, painstaking process that continues to this day.

I see myself as that lowly pearl, precious and real in God’s eyes.  Despite blows and falls, He has always reassured me of his protective presence. In my younger years, He shielded me; in my prime, He provided meaning and joy to my work and blessed me with an amazing family. Now in my twilight years, I know He accompanies me in every challenge I face as I persist in understanding His plan for me.

I must stay steadfast. Because real pearls do not burn nor scorch.

Someday, I pray, when God deems me ready for the harvest, I shall join His treasure trove of the battle-scarred faithful.