Parables

My mom and I spent some good time chatting this past weekend in Chicago--not something I get to do very often (a post about that to come). During the course of our conversation, I shared a recent experience with her. She sent me a message today asking me if I could write it down for her to use in a talk that she is preparing.

And so I did.

Despite the writer's block I'm feeling, I thought that perhaps one of my life's lessons might be of value to someone out there.  I call it the Parable of the Locket:

When I was about 8-years old, I went to the old JC Penny that used to be in Bountiful with my mom to do some shopping. While she perused the clothing section, I made my way over to the jewelry section. Loving all things sparkly, I looked longingly at all of the necklaces and rings and trinkets beyond my 8-year old budget. I then came across a display table full of long red cardboard boxes, each containing a necklace with gold linked chains, faux pearls and a heart-shaped locket attached. I was instantly enamored. I knew I just had to have one of them. I looked at the price, and realized it was a totally reasonable request to make to my mom. Christmas was coming, and I knew that if I asked in just the right tone of voice, with just the right amount of emphasis and enthusiasm, she couldn’t refuse.

As I sat staring at them, daydreaming about how I would be the envy of all my friends at school, and how I would make my case for the locket of my dreams, my mom came to find me. She was finished shopping and it was time to go. I pulled her toward the table and showed her the locket. I told her how much I liked it and heavily, if not overtly, hinted that I would really, really like it for Christmas. Her reaction gave me hope that I had played it well.

Christmas Eve was on Sunday that year. I woke up that morning feeling quite certain that in the long-ish box, which had appeared under the Christmas tree several days before, was my locket. So, with such certainty, I approached my mom and asked her if I could wear my new necklace to church. She looked at me and said simply, “Oh, you’re not getting that necklace for Christmas.”

I was so confused, and so sad. I had been so certain! My request seemed so reasonable, my desires so pure and intense. My mother’s response so reassuring! I just didn’t make sense.

The next day was, of course, Christmas. As we all sat in our designated areas, and made our way through our bulging stockings, I pulled a small square box from my sock. As I unwrapped the paper, I saw that it was a jewelry box, covered in deep burgundy velvet. I was instantly excited. As I opened the box, I caught my breath. There, fastened delicately to the velvet, was the most beautiful gold locket I had ever seen. The locket was beautifully engraved, and it was made of real gold. It was much more precious, the workmanship much finer, and it was so much more perfect for me than the locket I mourned the previous day. My third-grade heart could not have been happier.

I wore that locket that Christmas day, and many days thereafter, not fully understanding what a parable for my life that necklace would become. Some years later, I finally understood: So many times, on our knees and in our hearts, we plead with the Lord for the fulfillment of our righteous desires. We offer our pleadings in a sacred tone, with just the right amount of emphasis and enthusiasm. And, we have faith—certain that the Lord will bless us in the way that we seek.

And sometimes He does. But, so many times He doesn’t. In those moments, we find ourselves confused, sad, and maybe even angry. We were so certain! Our requests so righteous, our desires so pure, our faith so intense. But then, if we press forward—not giving up our hope, and not forsaking our faith—He fulfills that desire. Not only does He fulfill it, but He does so in a way that is so much more precious and so much more suited for us. We couldn’t have even imagined such blessings for ourselves. We weren’t capable of imagining such blessings for ourselves. Sometimes the fulfillment of such desires comes in this life. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it comes.

Occasionally I still find myself on the Christmas Eve’s of life, sad and confused, not certain why longed-for blessings seem just beyond my reach. And then I remember my small gold necklace, which has become a symbol of my faith and hope in a God who knows me intimately, and is on the verge of blessing me beyond my comprehension. The Parable of the Locket has taught me what the Apostle Paul once so eloquently wrote: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” (1 Cor. 2:9)