Mr. Earl the Pearl

The smell of cigar smoke told me Mr. Earl was near, and before long, I could hear his loud mumbling. My gruff, elderly neighbor reminded me of Walter Matthau in the movie Grumpy Old Men, but Mabel always perked up when she saw him coming. She would pull on her leash to catch up with him, and I’ll never forget the first time Mr. Earl noticed her.

In his grumbling voice, he gave her a name, “funny fluffernugget with weird hair.” His voice was raspy and followed by a cough, then an announcement to me that he didn’t care much for dogs. I didn’t believe him. His eyes softened a bit when he saw Mabel, and she picked up her step when she saw him. I trust my dogs, so I knew there was more to this cigar-smoking, gruff old soul and I knew Mabel would help me find it.

One day, Mr. Earl was walking slower than usual, cigar smoke swirling above his head. We hurried to catch up with him, and when we were beside Mr. Earl, Mabel leaned her furry body into him. She likes to do this to show affection, and as she was leaning in, she looked up at him with her big Mabel smile.

“Well, fluffernugget with weird hair, how are you?” He stopped and gave her head two pats. I had never seen Mr. Earl smile, but Mabel’s leaning forced him to crack a big grin. I handed her leash over to him and he walked with Mabel on one side and me on the other. She was prancing a little, proud to be by Mr. Earl’s side, as if they had known each other for years.

As we walked, I asked Mr. Earl how he was making it through the pandemic, and was he doing okay? That question was all he needed to open up and tell his story. Mr. Earl, my gruff neighbor, had served in the military and had lost friends. His battle stories were heroic, but he wasn’t bragging, just sharing the heartbreak of loss, including losing his wife when he returned from service. I began to understand why he had grown such a tough exterior. He had lived a hard life, and he was battle-worn. But the tears came when he talked about losing Gus, his beloved old mutt that he had rescued from the side of the road one day. He saved Gus, but Mr. Earl said that the old dog had saved him. The two of them were inseparable during the years when Mr. Earl was losing people he loved. And then, Gus was hit by a car, and Mr. Earl was left alone, without his beloved companion.

“I guess I wasn’t being truthful when I told you I didn’t care for dogs,” Mr. Earl said, sniffling and wiping a tear with the back of his rough hand. “I just hate losing them.” He shook his head. “Gus saved my life, and saying goodbye to him was a tough blow, and I’m a tough guy!”

Mr. Earl told me that when he felt anxious, old Gus would lean into him like Mabel. We walked on for a few minutes, and then he turned to me and said, “I think fluffernugget with weird hair knew that I needed some calm today, and a little laughter.”

He told me that this day had been hard. Another dear friend had died, and he was going to another funeral. He was tired. As we walked, I began to see past that rough exterior and into the soft, tenderhearted part of Mr. Earl. In fact, there was a sweet, kind spirit in there, hidden under the frowning face, grumbling voice, and cigar smoke.

We parted when we were back at his house, and Mabel gave him a big smooch.

“I kind of like you fluffernugget with weird hair, and I think you like me too.” He gave a thumbs up and thanked me for listening to his stories.

As Mabel and I walked home, I thought about the commitment I had made two years earlier to meet my neighbors, get to know them, and pray for their needs. The story of

how a pearl is formed had been the focus of one of my devotionals that week. A tiny sandstone finds its way under an oyster shell, irritating it so that it begins to work on that stone. After months, sometimes years, that sandstone becomes a smooth, shiny pearl. Pearls are costly and precious, and it takes many of them to make one necklace.

I think Mr. Earl was like that pearl. In fact, I gave him the nickname, Earl the Pearl. On the outside, he was cranky and tough, as if he hated the world and everything about it. But inside was a man with a story of love, loss, heartbreak, and resilience. His bravery and heart to help others were beautiful. Like the pearl.

In my devotional that week, Jesus told the parable of the merchant looking for fine pearls, and how it is similar to finding the kingdom of Heaven. When the merchant found one pearl, he sold all he had to purchase it. Our salvation is like that pearl, because nothing is more valuable than security for our souls.

On our walk the next day, Mabel wore the pearl collar that had belonged to Mavis. I put a small pearl I had tucked away for safekeeping in a mesh bag. It had come from an oyster I received many years ago, and it was the perfect gift for my new friend. We saw the plume of cigar smoke, and Mabel ran to Mr. Earl. He saw her pearl collar and commented in his gruff voice, “Little Miss fluffernugget with weird hair is all decked out today!”

I told Mr. Earl she wore it just for him, and I handed him the bag with a pearl inside. “Your story matters,” I said, and I told him the parable of the pearl, and that God had a big purpose for his life. “Your life is like this precious pearl.”

He pulled out a worn handkerchief and wiped tears, then bent down to hug Mabel. He held her face in his hands. “Fluffernugget with weird hair, I think you have the heart of my Gus. I really kind of like you.”

Mabel had known that inside that rough exterior, there was a gentle soul. A pearl.

Mr. Earl moved away eventually, but I still pray for him every day. I hope he remembers that he is a soul of great worth. That time with Mr. Earl and the devotional that week caused me to look at pearls in a new way. They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but I’ll take the pearls. Jesus taught an important lesson through His parable, “The Pearl of Great Price.”

Precious is the pearl, and precious is a soul to God.