When Lauren (our oldest daughter) was about 4 we went on a camp for kids aged 6-16 as helpers. Her ever-loved and slightly tatty “Mousey” went with us. One hot summers day – it got lost. The preciousness of Mousey dictated that Lauren’s days steps be retraced (multiple times) and that the entire campsite be searched.
I think it was Rod who eventually found him. I don’t have a picture in my memory, but I do have a feeling. It is a deep, guttural, outraged roaring kind of a feeling as to the whereabouts of his finding.
Turned out Mousey had been left on the bus earlier that day. This bus by evening was again filling up with kids and there was Mousey – being flung over head, tossed and bouncing from one set of hands to another, tugged and pulled and fought over for the next laugh. I remember the outrage of this because as her parents, we understood the depth of Loonie’s love for this critter. We understood a fitful night sleep would be the result of not holding it in her arms, and not just for one, but for all in a shared dorm. But mostly, we just KNEW it was precious to her.
We treated it with something akin to reverence, and to see or hear of the indignities to which Mousey was being subjected, was infuriating.
“Don’t give your pearls to pigs” is a verse I’ve been thinking on a lot lately.
It’s really great advice on it’s own but it’s only a third of the total. Here’s the full thing: “Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.”
This is not name-calling. These are analogies – as is Loonies Mousey in the story above. We’ve all got things which are precious to us… things which some others will ‘get’, and things which some others never will. Pigs cant recognise the value of a pearl. We shouldn’t be surprised when the things deeply precious to us are sometimes misunderstood or even badly treated. We just need to measure carefully.