I found a diamond on my chair. This is not a metaphor, though it is ripe for such musings. Rather a loose sparkly stone sat waiting for me, like a shard of a fallen star easily missed. It is not from any ring I have ever owned, having hinted to John that I preferred the red of rubies back when we were dating. He picked up the hint and ran with it, ordering both a ring and necklace that glow warmly four decades later. 

 

The mystery of it draws me in. Where did it come from? How do I return it? Is it even an actual gem or a chip of glass? The glitter is real enough, at least as real as something without weight or volume can be. The adage about the origin of beauty suggests to me that it matters less whether an appraiser finds it to be genuine than that it gives me pause. I keep taking it out to gaze again, to let it roll in the palm of my hand just to dance with the light. How can something so small respond to the sun millions of miles away? 

 

There is a passage in the book True Christianity about diamonds. 

 

"The light that flows into a diamond and into a piece of limestone is the same, but in one it shines while in the other it is darkened."

 

I like that simple example of how I can be more or less responsive to God's efforts to inspire me. Do I allow the splendor of God's blessings to reverberate in every direction, or do they land with a thud?

 

Recently I have had a hankering for an appraisal. Am I doing my job well? Do my efforts measure up? Much as I am relieved to no longer be a student subject to constant evaluations, the occasional assessment can go a long way to calm my nerves. Our adult children have been weighing in of late, about the quality of their childhoods. This is a minefield, no matter how many times I took them to the park. There will be glimmering memories but there will also be dirt. 

 

I suppose I can turn my face to the ever present sun, even if it means waiting for clouds to pass. Being far above me does nothing to lengthen the disconnect between me and my Jeweler. 

 

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth so are My ways higher than your  ways." Isaiah 55