The following story originated with someone I do not know and was then transmitted by someone I do know, hoping to provide what they believe to be inspirational. However, like so many “seemingly” inspirational offerings which I receive, I seldom pass them along. I often wonder if such stories are really being read, and more importantly, I fear that this particular story which is aimed at adults might actually be passed along to children as a worthwhile message. You be the judge.
The Necklace…A beautiful story!
The cheerful little girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
“Oh Mommy, please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?”
Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl’s upturned face.
“A dollar ninety-five. That’s almost $2.00. If you really want them, I’ll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.”
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to her neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday School, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”
“Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.”
“Then give me your pearls,” said Jenny’s dad.
“Oh daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my very favorite.”
“That’s okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed Jenny’s cheek with a kiss.
(Forgive me for interrupting, but does this sound like a Grimm tale with that wolf? Sorry, but it just struck me that daddy is really toying with little Jenny)
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”
“Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Then give me your pearls.”
“Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.”
“That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.”
The cheerful little girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
“Oh Mommy, please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?”
Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl’s upturned face.
“A dollar ninety-five. That’s almost $2.00. If you really want them, I’ll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.”
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to her neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday School, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”
“Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.”
“Then give me your pearls,” said Jenny’s dad.
“Oh daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my very favorite.”
“That’s okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed Jenny’s cheek with a kiss.
(Forgive me for interrupting, but does this sound like a Grimm tale with that wolf? Sorry, but it just struck me that daddy is really toying with little Jenny)
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”
“Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Then give me your pearls.”
“Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.”
“That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.”
(Forgive me for interrupting, but I am almost exhausted having to read and write this gibberish again…my desire to jerk the hair on Jenny’s dad’s head is almost unbearable!)
And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss. A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.
“What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”
(Forgive me for interrupting, but can you imagine that this “daddy” has no clue why little Jenny is weeping! WOW, this guy needs therapy!)
Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here daddy, this is for you.”
(Forgive me for interrupting, but just as Jenny started to quiver, I screamed, “NO JENNY, DON’T GIVE BIG DADDY THE PEARLS!! He has no sense of the sentimental value to you! You worked, you saved, you took Grandma’s dollar and invested in those pearls. ASK HIM WHY HE NEEDS THEM SO BADLY! But… it was too late.)
(Forgive me for interrupting, but just as Jenny started to quiver, I screamed, “NO JENNY, DON’T GIVE BIG DADDY THE PEARLS!! He has no sense of the sentimental value to you! You worked, you saved, you took Grandma’s dollar and invested in those pearls. ASK HIM WHY HE NEEDS THEM SO BADLY! But… it was too late.)
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.
(Forgive me for interrupting, since I needed to settle down and catch my breath. When Big Daddy started to weep, after the family made little Jenny earn her own birthday pearls (with the help of Grandma’s pension), and then saw no shame in brow-beating little Jenny with guilt, night after night, to let go of her precious pearls…well I had to stop writing for just a minute. I HAD NO CLUE THAT BIG DADDY WAS A BANKER, AND CHEAP STUFF IS NOT ALLOWED, NO MATTER HOW MUCH MORE VALUABLE IT MAY BE TO A FIVE-YEAR OLD CURLY HAIRED LOVING CHILD.)
(AND NOW THE MORAL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL STORY)
(AND NOW THE MORAL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL STORY)
So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures. God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place. God bless… (The end)
No more interruptions; it’s sadly over. Little Jenny has been coerced over the weeks and burdened with so much guilt that she gives up those pearls and gets the real thing. Daddy did not tell her WHY he wanted those pearls, and little Jenny is just FIVE, and not old enough to ask some simple questions. No rhyme or reasons, just Daddy wants those pearls. There needs to be suffering for little Jenny with all that guilt in route to getting her Mercedez. It makes it all worthwhile with the suffering. After all without the suffering and guilt how would she know? Know what? Poor little Jenny may lose her Mother tonight, and Big Daddy will provide someone better. Seems logical.
Something is terribly wrong with this story. If there was a desire to relate a lesson of learning, this was not it. WHERE is the unconditional love in this sobby tale? There is so much simplicity packed into this story, and sadly these are the stories which are almost never questioned upon receipt. They are just labeled, “a beautiful story.”
My dear lovely readers…please take stock of what you are NOT questionning, and talk to your children when they come home from Sunday School or church, and allow them to hear (as Paul Harvey said so well)…THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY.
There is so much more to say, but not today. These thought-provoking stories of guilt, shame, suffering little children with worthless stuff, and a God who will not tolerate cheap pearls, just keep coming, so I need my rest to read them all, and know when to delete. AMEN.
2 comments:
Man did you ever miss the point of the story.
The story was a metaphor...We are the little girl...We work and work and waste our lives on junk. We are so afraid of giving it away...and eventually most of us die with crap that was always worthless...
When our savior Jesus died for us, he was the pearl of great price.
This little bit of crap that I hold in my hands keeps me from loving Him because I love it more.
When I let go...He, Jesus, my savior replaces all the worthless crap of my life with true riches, with true life, with true hope.
(What kind of minister are you anyway...(apparently not one that reads her Bible))
Dear Anonymous,
Perhaps you should have constructed a story which was less sappy than the one which I received to be passed mindlessly along to others. Yes, I know quite well that this was a metaphor, although
very poorly conceived and constructed. I also know that any religion, which has as its mission a conversion aspect, constantly offers stories to lead one in a direction, but this story was a metaphor of Daddy "coercion" at its worst. It's a story of a relentless attack on a tot with no rhyme or reason, just submit, submit, submit or disappoint Big Daddy. Surely this reached you at some gut level? Or perhaps not.
There was no junk in this little girl's world. She had a treasure. No one explained anything! You evidently want the message, which you perceive as being portrayed to be recognized, while ignoring the damaging aspects of the other metaphor in the poor conception of this tale. From my observation this was clearly a misguided dad (god) and his subject (the tot) was being harangued relentlessly without any idea of why.
It sort of reminds me of that story (now where was it?) where this couple eats a fruit from a tree, when told specifically not to do so. Two supposedly innocent first people with built-in exploration chambers in their fresh new brains who had never been corrected for anything and knew no dangers awaited them, and low and behold, ate the whole thing! Wow, then the "know little or nothings" learned what Big Daddy was all about, when hell was unleashed. Does that sound like a metaphor for the old rabbis who needed a tale to wow the masses and keep them in tow? You bet it does!
I am not a Christian, yet I recognize clearly when a story needs scrutinized. For God's sake, do not insult a loving god with such trite stories as "The Necklace...A Beautiful Story." Please learn not to give credence to everything that seeks to be instructive, when it's clearly diminishing. You pointed out your beliefs in a few sentences much more than the writer of the beautiful story, and without a metaphor, and without dragging a child into the valley of sin.
Had the story not been presented to me as a plea to pass it along, as if I agreed with it in totality, I would not have commented. You may feel free to circulate such mixed messages in your arsenal of conversion techniques, but there are messages which need considerably more thought in what is actually striking the reader. This story falls into the genre of “child abuse.”
Most of the Bible is a metaphor, but that will not set well with most fundamental literalists. The first book is a marvelous metaphor. Most Jews understand this, while most Christians take it literally as fact. There are literally hundreds of men and women who teach at bible colleges who do not understand metaphor at all. It doesn't exist in their bible. You might spend some time educating them with some direct remarks.
If you are going to portray a loving, caring God, then don't kill the dreams of a little girl (meaning all children...that's a metaphor) with or without reason. Pick another route to exercise deliverance. Use a grubby adult who has, as you repeated, so much crap in this life. Not an innocent child who from my perspective is sinless, but won't know that she was born full of it… until this Big Daddy works his ways.
I am delighted that you personally have found something or someone, in this case, Jesus, to provide your life hope. There are indeed some grand precepts attributed to Jesus, words which Thomas Jefferson tore out of his Bible so they could be isolated and appreciated without the babble which reduced the impact of the messages.
Perhaps you will get the point of my reaction. Tell your story, allow it to resonate where it will, tell it without insulting your God and yourself, and quit allowing coercion as a major instrument in your tool box, especially toward children or adults who are child-like. The weakest link in the Christian chain, and some other religions, is the constant repetitiveness of coercive techniques of their children, who will rebel in due course upon bringing reason into their lives, and after years of exposure to the multitudes who present hypocrisy in daily doses.
There is a precept which still rings with me from many years ago, and it is borrowed from Thich Nhat Hanh, one of the world's most respected religious leaders. It is certainly not a precept which finds favor with Christian parents, yet it is an honest appeal. It reads,
"Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education. However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrowness."
Bring a little more kindness into the stories of your God, and walk the walk. Perhaps the actual "walk" will begin to reduce coercive techniques upon the children, because the talk (and so much written materials) is too corrosive. Thanks for the note. Sincerely....T. Wade
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