Piece

Everywhere I go that I want to remember I've been I usually pick up a rock or she'll or something to represent the time, place, or person. 

In Israel I picked up shells along the Galilee...

My first women's retreat I picked up a good size pink rock...

Along the path my papa nub and I used to walk, my aunt Pat and I hauled a huge rock with a wheelbarrow back to the house and put under the big oak tree.

The memory is recalled with a piece of something that seems inconspicuous and meaningless, but becomes special. 

My stepmom, Peggy, and I cried today over a bag of rocks and clipped toenails. The rocks my dad picked up in the holy land that now reside in the chest in her room. The toenails I clipped withe last bit of red on them from when I got a pedicure last December before My trip to Disney, the last time I would see my dad alive. 

While the rocks and shells are special, no I did not keep the toenails, I think the most special things in life are not where you take a piece of it with you, but when you leave a piece of you behind. 

I have crosses and shirts and stickers and fish that remind me of Jesus. 

He gave love and peace and healing and comfort, when He ascended He sent His Spirit back to us as a deposit. 

The only good I have to leave in me is Jesus. 

Jesus,

May you strengthen me and embolden me to strengthen my brothers and sisters.

But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith will not fail. So when you recover, strengthen the other disciples.” (Luke 22:32 GW)

James 3:18

Camelot