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I Am An Oyster

9/15/2015

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by Emily Knoe

PictureStudy of an oyster, Emily Knoe
While reading the news today, I found myself reacting to a tragedy as if it happened right before my eyes.  This is not new.  This happens frequently.  I cannot count how many times a day I come extremely close to breaking down in tears.  I cannot count how many times I stop and pray for strangers, or thank God for a stranger in the news who did not succumb to their injuries in some tragedy.  I become so shaken when reading the news, that I often have to stand up and leave the area.  I will go make a hot tea, or take a quick walk around the building.

 Inevitably, I will ruminate on how harsh the world is, on how I cannot take much more of these feelings, on how I will need to simply STOP reading the news, as if that would make it all disappear.  Today, during one such excursion from my desk, I reflected on how I am often perceived.  I am seen as cold and indifferent, a robot, with no feelings.  Most people never learn how sensitive I truly am (which displays even physically, through panic attacks and a reactive tachycardia).  I simply CANNOT dwell in my sensitivity, or I will fall into a pit of despair and depression, and therefore, most passive acquaintances are not even aware of it.

Then I realized . . . I am an oyster.  I have an extremely hard shell (that I grew myself, thank you very much) and it protects my extremely sensitive insides.  When a piece of the gritty world somehow makes it past my shell, I will work on that grit until it becomes a beautiful pearl of wisdom, of truth.  This is how I MUST deal with the grit, as I cannot simply push it out.  I must absorb the grit and make it a part of myself, until I am done cultivating it into something with beauty and meaning.

Sometimes these pearls become art; sometimes they begat conversations. 

I have realized today, that I should not lament the hard shell.  I believe God has led me to create this hard shell, because without it, I would not be able to retain my sensitive insides.  Without my sensitive insides, I would not be able to form the pearl.

Today’s pearl . . . I am an oyster.
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