Ruby.

fieldSo I’m in Chicago.

Remember that five of my eight jobs are portable. So I’m working. Don’t worry about that.

And after lunch yesterday, Betsy, Lyndsay, and I went to the Field Museum.

[I like museums. I like them so much that I handed Anita the iPhone over to Betsy and said, “You keep this for a while. I just want to look.” Sometimes my friends double as my mother. No biggie.]

First big moment: Sue the T-Rex. She’s huge. But I didn’t say that to her face because honestly, skeleton or not, it’s rude to tell a girl how big she is. But it was super cool.

We walked through for about an hour and ended up in the fine jewelry department. I don’t think they call it that, but I do.

I was born in July. The ruby is my birthstone and I’ve always loved it. Mainly because people tell you to love your birthstone. So as we walked around and looked at the different gems, I kept one eye out for the ruby. Cause she and I have been friends for, give or take, 29 years.

I’ve never researched rubies. I have no idea why. But I smiled when I read the information explaining what makes rubies unique. (This is from the Field Museum website.)

As corundums, ruby and sapphire share the same basic chemical composition and crystal formations. Impurities merely create different colors of varieties of the stone.

Annie = ruby. And it sorta makes sense. Cause a lot of times it seems that all I can see are my impurities, my imperfections, my flaws.

This fact could be depressing: you mean to tell me that the things that are WRONG are what decide its color?!?

Poor Ruby. You deserve better than to be named by your flaws.

Or. Maybe not.

To me, for some reason, this was deeply hopeful. The things in me that I dislike [laundry list to be provided upon request], may actually be the things that make me beautiful.

That’s just like God. To take the ugly and make it beautiful. To take the impure and make it holy.

And I like that they use the word “merely.” Like, “impurities are not that big of a deal- in fact, it just helps us pick the name.”

As I stood there in my Chicago uniform [hat on my head, sweater, coat, two pair of gloves and a scarf], I was reminded that my impurities might merely be part of what makes me unique. Might be part of God’s lovely redeeming plans in my life. Might be what eventually makes me whole.

And that gives me hope.

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