I love this pic I got in my email this morning. I checked my email before coming over here to post, and this was just so fitting for today’s post. Gotta love God’s timing!!!
I am different. No doubt about that . I know that we are all unique, but some of us try to blend into the crowd more than others. I’m one of the others. I’ve got my own beat and my own drummer. I’ve never been afraid to walk alone (well, except for that one time in the DC hood during the early 90s 
). I am different and I love myself, but I am often misunderstood. That has been one of my greatest points of frustration. In friendships, intimate relationships, and even with family sometimes, I have always desired for someone just to see ME. Not the “me” they think I am or want me to be, but the “me” that I really am. And she’s not so perfect all the time, but she IS sincere and well meaning. I mean I would sometimes get really hot or really hurt when people exhibited their inability to see me and their great capacity to be either shallow or judgmental or both. Now, let me diverge for a second and tell you a little story.
I once moved into a very nice house from a one bedroom apartment. When I left the one bedroom, I gave all my furniture to charity, so I came with only my bed and a dresser to the new place. I had a table too, but that was mostly it in the way of furniture. The house had three bedrooms and 2 1/2 baths. It was a nice house.
There was a member of my church I didn’t know that well, but she had been particularly kind to my best friend when she was in need. I appreciated that and God laid it on my heart to be a blessing to her in turn. This lady and her husband were millionaires, but he passed suddenly, and as in many marriages, he had handled all the finances. It was not long after his passing that she found herself in need of downsizing and rapidly changing her lifestyle. She sold what many would consider a mansion and needed a place to go. Because of what she had done for my best friend, I invited she and her family (three children-two teens and one elem. age) to stay with me. She was around my parents’ age (late 50s, I was in my early 20s at the time), so she was mature but also Godly ( great combo). Witnessing her faith in the midst of adversity was really a blessing to me. So many people had been like leeches to she and her husband but were nowhere to be found when she had a need. I enjoyed her company and her children. They were like a family to me. Candy and I had just been living there alone.
When she came, she brought all that she couldn’t store, and my garage became storage as well as the rest of the house. She furnished the living room with a beautiful mauve leather set: queen sleeper sofa and two reclining chairs. The boys shared a small room upstairs opposite the small room I took for myself and they slept on separate twin mattresses of good quality. She stocked the refrigerator and pantry with plenty of food for her family and Candy and I as well. She installed the internet and a second phone line. She was a pearl with pearl wisdom. And when she and her family moved into a home of their own, she wanted to bless me with something, so she left the furniture and the mattresses. That was a tremendous blessing. The furniture was really nice and because I the way it came to me, it gained sentimental value. Appreciating it was like appreciating the relationship that brought it to me. I treasured it as I treasured the giver. I love it still.
But when I moved again (the lady and her family had left the state by then), this time to another state, I was convinced to give my furniture away. I had no help to make the move. So many people had asked me for that furniture it was ridiculous, and really shameful the way people act sometimes. They had heard who gave it to me and knew it was nice. I also had a reputation for giving away things among those who really knew me.
There was this one lady who let me stay with her family for the months between moving out of the house and moving out of state. She was one who had asked for my furniture, so I gave it to her. She’s a nice lady, but her extended family is right in the dictionary after the word “ghetto.” I don’t think it was even a year after I left that she gave my furniture to another family member whose house is “the” hub for all the ghetto activity–drugs, hiding out, children everywhere, you name it-it happens. I know when you give people something it’s theirs to do as they please, which is exactly what I told her when she asked if I’d mind if she gave my furniture to this family member. Knowing what I knew of where the furniture was going, I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed though.
I understand she wanted this person to have something nice, but you can’t give Bloomingdale’s quality stuff to people with a WalMart mentality or they will just treat the Bloomies stuff just like it came from WalMart. The lady I gave the stuff to initially is a nice lady who sometimes exhibits some Walmart ways. She’s really sweet though but sometimes still has a poverty mentality. I’m not mad she gave the furniture away. That’s not the point of this. The point is that she couldn’t really appreciate the furniture’s value and in turn passed it on to people who also could not. I initially wanted to give it to someone who really needed it but would also appreciate it, and that appreciation would be visible in how well they took care of their stuff. I opted instead for someone who had just been kind to me. Not a bad choice but she never knew and still doesn’t know her worth. Bloomies stuff–Walmart mentality. Not a good match.
Now back to me. I had to realize that I was wasting my time trying to get people with a Walmart mentality to see my Bloomies quality self. It doesn’t work. So then I was reminded of Jesus’ admonition not to cast your pearls before swine. I am a pearl. In fact, we all are, but some of us are still under oyster gunk because we don’t know that we are. I know who and what I am. And I now understand that some people will never “see me” because you cannot do with over-the-counter glasses what you can do with those prescribed from an optometrist’s care. No Walmart for Bloomies. Understanding this is the key to decreasing my frustration because extremely gifted people are often severely misunderstood. So I count it a privilege to be in the hall of greatness, joining others who are equally, if not moreso, misunderstood. I also am privileged to understand that no swine—whether friend, family member, or significant other—will ever be able to appreciate a pearl.