My treasures become burdens.

I cling to them so tightly and trudge around with a determined scowl. This is my job, this is my calling.

My hands overflow, my fingers white with the presure of clinging desperatly on to all I want.

I don’t have enough grip, my beautiful treasures slip through my fingers and clatter to the ground as I hastily readjust my load.

As I stumble to my knees to gather them up, the questions sear me,

“Lord, is this what you intended for me? I know this work is good, but why do I struggle so, why have you not given me enough to handle this? Do I hear you right? Is this what you want for me? How? Why? I can’t do it.”

But as my knees begin to ache, the worries of my mind begin to crowd out the seeking of my heart.

“Hurry, hurry, there’s something to do, someone’s waiting, someone needs you.”

I shake my head, still empty and needy, but telling myself, this is my calling.

I gather my treasures up again, struggle to my feet and stumble on.

Head down, feet sliding along the ground, pace slowing. I don’t ask Him anymore. I’m not sure how He hears me, I’m not sure how to find Him. My arms ache, tears begin to brim and the silence of my heart screams out to Him despite my frustration.

Then I hear, a small sound, a whisper. I abruptly stop, look up. What was it? I listen intently. The treasures slip a bit and one falls, unheeded, to the ground.

But just as the whisper sounds again my mind abruptly fills with the needs, with my calling, with thoughts for my precious treasures. I can’t drop these.

But this time, I grab on tighter and quiet myself. This. This is important. Be still.

And then I feel it more than hear it.

The whisper of my Father.

“I am here, child. I’ve always been. You simply need to stop and listen.

These treasures, they are your calling, but they are mine. Not yours. Lay them at my feet. I carry them for you. You need only worry yourself with me, I will take care of it all.

You don’t have enough. but I do.”

My heart beat races. Can I do that? Can I lay them down for Him? How can He ask that of me? There’s not enough time. This is my job, right? Who will protect these treasures if I don’t?

I glance down at my treasures. And see for the first time the the dirt smudges and cracks from my clumsy, overwhelmed hands. Oh no. How did this happen? How did I let it happen? I’ve done more damage than good!!

And again I hear the whisper, I can mend them, I can clean them, there is nothing you can do that I can’t undo. Hand them to me, let me carry you all.

My heart leaps, and in that moment I make a choice, one that I know I will have to make moment after moment from here on out. I quickly set the treasures at His feet and leap into His arms.

My treasures are safe, my calling remains, but now with a partner, One whose hands more gracefully cradle my treasures and me.

I know from jow on, I will make every effort to resist the need to gathrr tjem up again, to let the worries of my mind crowd out His whisper.

Oh my Lord, may I always hear you louder than the world.

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