a small stone

this morning on the way up monkey hill, i stopped to pick up a smooth stone.  it was a perfect sand colored circle stone, firm and smooth, and noticed because it was unlike the cragity crumbly red pebbles that make up most of the path.  i fingered it for a while as i reached the top, enjoying it's worn surface, appreciating it's uniqueness.  on the way down, i realized that my hand was empty- i'd left it behind.  i felt disappointed. i would have liked to keep it, to show the kids that we find little treasures in unexpected places.  in that moment of feeling a little bit of loss, i thought about how much life is like this.  things float in and out of our lives.  people come and go.  time is shared for a week- then gone.

there is a great pebble layer.  she knows when we need to pick up stones, to have a certain conversation in an elevator, to see a sunrise, or a full moon, or feel a perfect breeze, or hear a song, or walk a tea field.  the great orchestrator of our pebbles.  they are placed for us, there and then, for a reason.  so that we can see something or feel something or have an experience that is needed- special because it is in that moment in time- and then it's gone.  we hold it for a while, in our hand or our heart, it gives us something- but not everything. we are made up of these stones, these moments.

but who do we have to be to notice them?  where do we need to be to listen? to stop and pick? to wait, to not rush off?  often for me, it is in times of brokenness, when the world has stopped, or the day, and the channel of life i was on- was changed.  in those moments- when i feel my smallness- when i wish i could climb into someones great big shirt pocket- when i know how little control i really have- that is when i look down while walking and see that smooth stone.  that is when i feel the world around me differently. when i get out and walk the hill, and the field, with my eyes wide open, my ears stretching to hear him - the one who places the stones on our paths.