.Grandmother's Pearls.

They came all the way from Spain. The clasp is a larger pearl, on top of a golden piece of metal that clicks happily when you fasten it. There's a necklace and a small bracelet that leaves just the right amount of wiggle room when you click it onto your wrist. These are my grandmother's pearls.

Yesterday morning I stretched my elastic string of faux pearls out and slipped them over my head. I stepped back to survey the fashion of the morning - a red antique sweater topped off a high-wasted black pencil skirt and heels. The cashmere, appliqued red sweater has seen so much... it was a little-worn purchase of my great-grandmother. I've worn it into the world of politics now, and it has more stories to tell. A sigh escaped my lips. One more day of budget debate ahead.

Mom popped her head in, surveyed my outfit, and mentioned something about it being time to "pass on the pearls." She returned, smiling, with a red jewelry box, stamped with an elegant seal. It sprung open to reveal a string of pearls... and a bracelet to match. Their elegance and shine betrayed that elastic string around my neck as a ridiculous, $5.00 fake. I was delighted to surrender them for the real thing.

Grandma and Grandpa are in a nursing home now. Some days are wonderful, and some are filled with confusion, dimentia, and frustration. Her brothers came to visit last week, for one last time. I wear the pearls around my neck because she can't enjoy them anymore. That string of shine makes me feel like such a princess; a real daughter of a real God who delivered my family from the Armenian Genocide.

Those pearls from Spain are so much more than an accessory to me... they're a remembrance of the work of the LORD in the life of Miriam Kassarjian Badeer so far... and all His kind intentions for the future.