Pickles and Pearls

Pickles or Pearls?

That's my dilemma. 

I made pickles yesterday for the first time in years. Probably since I was a newlywed and used too-old cucumbers that did not make for a fine pickle eating event. I kinda gave up after that. Nobody's pickles could quite compare with Leo's grandmother's pickles anyhow. 

 The years passed. I contemplated trying again, but just never really felt truly motivated.
Until this year. Until yesterday.

My garden is actually producing some cute little pickling variety pickles (cute when I pick them in time, otherwise they grow quite fat and un-pickle-like). I thought, "Why not give it a try?" Maybe not Grandma Edna's recipe, but something more dill, rather than sweet. And because I didn't trust my spice mixing ability, I went to Springs Store and bought a packet of pickle seasoning, all ready to go.

I cleaned them, I sliced them and a few of the cute ones just fit without me doing a thing. The spices and vinegar were brewing on the stove nicely. Can I just say that if one leans close to the steam and inhales deeply to see if the spices are smelling "pickley" that it will clean out the sinuses quite effectively. Quite.

My eyes are still watering.

I got the jars packed, the liquid poured over and the canner set to canning. Then in about 15 minutes or so, the jars were lined up on the counter. Nine of them. I was happy. I was hoping I'd be happy the next day when I tasted them.

Then I started thinking. I wore a pearl bracelet yesterday. Not a pearl necklace and high heels, but pearls nonetheless. I felt a little June Cleaver-ish.  Then I thought of the contrast. Pickles and pearls.
One is tangy, sour and packs a little punch. The other is pretty and evokes pleasant thoughts.

Today, I am feeling very much like a pickle. I am not thinking nice thoughts. I am not speaking love and encouragement to my family. I am a sour pickle.

But I want to be a pearl. But becoming a pearl takes work. Effort. Do I really want to be a pearl?

I do.

I am taking 10 minutes to gather my pearlish thoughts and make a conscious decision to work on the pickled parts of me.

I can do this. Because the God in me created both pickles (well, the cucumbers) and pearls and He can shape me into what I am meant to be.

Love,
Dianne