I’ve been carrying around stones.
I’ve noticed lately that they seem a little heavy.
I started with a small stone, just a little rock on the path.
It was in my way, and I didn’t have time to find a place for it, so I just threw it in my satchel and went on.
I picked up another stone on a day the weather was bad. No time to stop and see what kind of stone it was, so into the bag it went.
As I walked along, for one reason or another, I would pick up stones and toss them in.
Some stones were interesting, like the brown one that was at once smooth and glossy with spots of gray; some stones were quite dull, but took up space in my path, so I moved them along by chucking them in the bag.
Some stones were light, like the scratchy lava rocks I picked up in Maui.
Others were dense as river rock; I must’ve picked them up by the creek.
Eventually, I’d come a good way when I realized that my back hurt. Something made me think about that bag I’d been carrying. It seemed to be rather heavy these days.
“Wonder what’s in there that I’m lugging around?”
The only way to figure out what is in the bag is to take the time to sit down and pull out one thing at a time.
That’s messy.
Necessary.
But Messy.
So, the unpacking begins.
Sometimes, I pull out something that I forgot I’d put in there.
Other times, I pull out something unpleasant.
There are days where I get distracted by something I’ve found, and I want to play with it awhile.
Only when I’m able to set it down will I be able to move on to the next thing.
Once I have everything out of the bag, I can survey it.
What’s there?
Is it all necessary for my travels?
What a load I’ve collected over my journey.
Still, the load is too heavy for me to carry any further.
Some things can go back in my bag, but most things must stay here.
I get to choose.
Which stones I carry.
And which stones I let go of.
Each stone has a purpose, but some of the purposes are complete.
I’ve preached from the pulpit on letting go of the stones.
I’ve shared testimony of how heavy my own stones are.
Why do I continue to pick up stones?
Perhaps because I don’t see them as stones.
Maybe if I could learn to identify stones for what they are, I’d stop picking them up.
Regardless, I must examine the stones and prepare myself to let go of them.
One by one.
Daily.
Momma Rich's 