Unique, beautiful and interesting rocks line the window ledge of my living room. Tuesday Carson arranged the rocks into order of his favorites. Yesterday John held and studied them before he lined them up the way he likes them best. Tonight after dinner Katherynn, in an effort to determine which was smooth and which was rough, hugged each one and set it gently into the place she chose.
"Are these rocks clean?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her. "My rocks are very clean because little children wash them for me. Lydia washed them the last time."
"I want to take them to my house."
"No. They stay here because then the other children can love them, too. You can love lots of things, but you don't have to own them. You can love them here and they won't be lost or broken."
"Okay," she cheerfully agreed, seeing the logic in my thoughts.
I enjoy my rocks, but they are not nearly so dear as the children in my life. I've been thinking about people, how intricately they’re created by God, how unique, how worthy of our time. Each one is special and beautiful just for being here.
How easily, because of my carelessness, like rocks, they can be lost or broken. And, yet, when loved, hugged, cleaned up and welcomed, they become timeless treasures.
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