Pearl

In my senior year in college, I spent a summer in China and Kyrgyzstan. Then I spent my last semester abroad in Vietnam. During those times, I befriended countless foreigners who called me by Chinese and Vietnamese name (depending on where I was residing at the time). My Chinese friends called me Zhang, as they giddily held my hand as we talked about hobbies and exchanged cultural stories. In Vietnam, I went by "Tran." Random fact: Vietnamese people love to add "oi" to names. So often times, I heard, "Tran-oi!!" from my Vietnamese classmates and other friends I met on the bus and on the streets. During this season, I learned that my name meant, "Pearl," or "Treasure." As someone who struggled with insecurities and came from a challenging background of abuse and neglect, I naturally shrugged off the meaning behind my name. I never once in my life felt like a beautiful pearl, and definitely not a treasure!

In my college years, I began to find healing from my past through the wonderful message of the Gospel. One day, I stumbled on a devotional in a Korean bookstore, and read about how a pearl was made. The author describes excruciating pain for a clam to form a pearl. At that moment, I sensed that God was telling me that I was his pearl, his treasure! And that even though my life had been full of pain, He was making something beautiful out of it. 

Later, after my first son turned 1, I experienced an inhalation injury while cleaning that left me struggling to catch my breath. Doctor and doctor, test and test, I couldn't find a way to cure or treat my breathing issue. Today, I continue to struggle with breathing issues. Three kids later, and now another on the way, I happened to be reading about how pearls were made from a scientific standpoint. The author described an irritant, or foreign body, that gets stuck in the clam. The clam then forms layers upon layers surrounding the foreign body, thus creating a beautiful pearl. For many years I have asked God to heal me of my breathing issues, to restore my ability to breathe again. Sometimes I felt like He had answered, and other times, I felt like I was taking 3 steps backwards. While I don't know what the future holds for me in this area (and perhaps there are still tests to be done, or further investigation), I do know that these years have been challenging beyond description. And while no one but God and my family have seen me lying in bed crying or buried in despair and hopelessness, I know none of those years were wasted. Those years taught me to persevere, hope, believe, and carry on. Those years revealed to me my smallness and God's greatness in my life. Those years taught me to depend on His strength and find grace in every moment. 

In my years traveling the world, I collected dolls for my future daughter. While I love my three boys, I knew deep down inside that I had always wanted a daughter, not because I got along with my own mother, or was close to women in my family. In fact, the reverse is true. My mother and I never saw eye-to-eye. I struggled with loneliness growing up, feeling distant from my own mother and sister. I sought out maternal figures in school settings, and sisters on the playground. When I became a Christian, God brought many mothers and sisters into my life and redeemed my past.

When I found out that my fourth child was going to be girl, I knew in that very moment that she was my Pearl.