The other night I wore a pair of simple pearl earrings. I haven't worn them in years, but there's just something about pearls that I find soothing. I love their creation--the idea of sand and distress and conflict producing something so clear and precious and smooth and valuable. I love their simplicity and their enduring classiness.
When I went to bed that night, I discovered that one of my earrings had fallen out. I thought I heard it fall on my oatmeal Berber carpet, but I couldn't find it anywhere. We all know that one earring is no good without its match, and I was a bit disgruntled... but what to do?
This morning as I rushed off to yoga, my eye caught a glimpse of my lost pearl earring under the corner of my bed. Suddenly I was reminded of a random but significant tender mercy:
As our dear Emmeline Wells says: "Nothing is irretrievably lost." I sometimes doubt that statement--I have several missing socks to prove my point. But some things are important and others aren't. I know I could easily replace my pearl earring with another pair that probably looks exactly the same, but there is just something about finding my lost pearl. I really believe and hope that in the grand scheme of things, that which is lost and of value can and will be found. It is known--its location, its worth, and its rescue. I believe.