I glanced over the top of my glasses as two men shook hands, and sat down across from where I was sitting. The younger of the two was dressed very casually in basketball shorts and a t-shirt while the other was in khaki pants and a white polo. When I glanced up again, the man in the white shirt was wringing his hands while the other stared at his coffee thoughtfully.
“I know why you’re here. She is a special kind of special. You could compare her to a pearl necklace. I don’t know if you know much about pearls but they put a knot in between each bead so that if you lose one, you wont lose them all.
The night her father molested her, she lost a pearl. She would later come to realize how much it affected the necklace. She tied another knot in the string, just in case.
She lost more beads over time as she gave pieces of her heart away. Each time after wards, she would tied another knot, another barrier placed between her and the world--barricading her heart away.
When Christ became a part of her life, he did not whip out a magic wand to fill the gaps, he didn’t fix the pearls that were cracked or chipped; He loved and cherished the necklace as it was offered to him. He longed for the missing parts but loved what he saw all the more.”
I glanced over and saw the well-dressed gentleman holding his breath; he was listening, waiting...
“I’ve had the honor of hearing the stories surrounding this imperfect strand of beads that means so much to her. I also understand that there are some things she just...can’t. But she has chosen to let you in, to let you see everything; to see where the beads are cracked and missing, the knots showing scars across her body and her heart. If you can appreciate the beauty of such an artifact, then yes you have my permission.”
Nervous about the Christian aspect of it but I'm open-minded to changes.
Created: Oct 31, 2010melissajean Document Media