The Unexpected Pearl

Christmas is nine days into our past. I’m curious – how many of my readers had oyster stew for Christmas Eve?

For as long as I can remember – so most of my life – I’ve had oyster stew for Christmas Eve. My mom wasn’t overly fond of it, but Dad liked it and I followed suit. I can honestly say that it is my favorite soup/stew to this day. And as an adult I got lucky that both my sons and husband liked it too. No fixing two different soups for Christmas Eve in this family! My boys were probably influenced by a subtle motto (of mine) around our house. Years later, my granddaughter couldn’t have put this same philosophy in any better words while serving us up mud pies. When Grandpa Stan was told we were getting chocolate pies and he told her he liked vanilla, with hands on her hips she adamantly replied, “Eat what you get, and don’t throw a fit!”

One of those Christmas Eves so long ago when I was about the age of my mud-pie making granddaughter, Mom opened up two cans of oysters and poured them in her copper bottom kettle. As she did so, a “ping” ricocheted off the bottom. That was odd; justifying a search among the cloudy juices and greenish gray globs. (I get it why some people don’t like oyster stew.) Mom poked her fork around and low and behold – pulled out a round pebble. Once she rinsed it, it became evident that it was no stone, but a pearl. She called us all together to witness the find. A special little unexpected treasure! I had no idea, at that age, how a pearl got into a can of oysters.

Dad explained. “A little bit of sand gets into the oyster shell and irritates the oyster – like getting a piece of gravel in your shoe. The animal senses the sand and coats it with layers and layers of a material that eventually becomes a pearl.”

That, I have learned is a rather simplistic explanation of pearl formation, but quite adequate for a six-year-old. (I had had plenty of sand and gravel in my shoes, living down a dirt lane.) As I have researched the actual process it’s quite amazing and leaves me in awe once again of God’s creativity. It’s not necessarily a piece of sand that starts it all. It can be a piece of misplaced food, a bacteria, or even a piece of the oyster’s own mantle that breaks off. Whatever is the culprit, the oyster senses the foreign object and begins to coat it with the same two substances that it uses to build its shell – aragonite and conchiolin. Once this irritant has made it’s home in the oyster it will take two – five years for the pearl to reach full size. Natural occurring pearls are rarely harvested as the oceans are vast and pearl formation is sporadic. This led to pearl farms where cultured pearls are produced by farmers surgically placing an irritant – usually a piece of mantle tissue from another oyster – into the chosen oyster.

As I thought about this process, I can certainly identify with those farmed oysters. I have often collected irritants in my life. Worry, fear, the ungrateful boss, the neighbors barking dog, the too small print on labels, the annoying ache, Covid mandates – all come to mind. But, when I’m willing to cover those irritations in layers of prayer, it tames them down and they don’t seem nearly as bothersome. Peace begins to overshadow angst, anxiety, and irritability. We serve a BIG GOD – bigger than any problem we have. Beth Moore says it this way. “We don’t have a need that exceeds His power.” That’s a good one to remember and to act upon.

Until next month, keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.