You are a masterpiece in the making
I once had a job picking up rocks. Of course, I was only six years old and I earned a meager penny per rock, but it was a job all the same. We were farmers back then and clearing new land, preparing an area for crops. I’m talking about acres and acres of land to grow a harvest for the coming year.
Initially the soil was roughly plowed to break up the hard ground. My job was to walk behind the tractor and pick up the rocks that the plow blades brought to the surface. Some of those rocks would be small, about the size of a golf ball. Others would be so big that I would struggle just to lift them. And then there were some that were simply impossible for me to get my tiny hands around. Those rocks, or maybe I should say boulders, I would leave for one of the grownups to collect. Each rock earned me a penny, no matter its size. I felt so proud and important.
After walking across every inch of the plowed field, picking up rock after rock that surfaced, the land would be plowed again, only this time a little deeper. And we would go through the same process all over again. It took a lot of hard work to clear a field. It was true back-breaking work. But at the end of the day, although you were sore from head to toe with fingers bleeding from cuts and blisters, and dirt was caked under every fingernail; as the sun was setting you had a sense of accomplishment as you looked to the edge of the field where a pile of rocks lay and then looked across the beauty of the freshly plowed field, cleared and ready for planting.
It’s amazing the things that come to the surface when you plow a field besides rocks. Broken pottery and glass, arrowheads, and even rusted out tin cans. You never know what may show up. But each item has a story of how it got there. Those pieces of pottery and glass at one time were used to carry living water, and now all they carry is a memory of what used to be. Those unearthed arrowheads were used to hunt and target practice with and now they are thankful to see the dawning of new light. And those old tin cans, which were someone’s meal in days gone by, are now filled with holes and no longer able to hold anything of substance. I even once found a fork, a rusted out and half missing oil lantern, and an old leather shoe.
But do you know what I did as I walked behind the tractor picking up rocks for a penny? I picked up those other items as well. I not only had a pile of rocks at the edge of the field when the day was over, but a pile of broken stories in my pocket. Each item made its way back home with me and I gave them their own place of honor in my room. They were my treasures.
Just like those treasures I put in my pocket… your life is a beautiful treasure. You may be broken and feel unimportant at times, but you are a treasure no matter how you feel. I know at times we can start to feel useless, especially when we are unable to do the things we thought made us great, but it’s important to understand that who you are is not based on what you can or can’t do. You may be broken, but that brokenness simply tells a story of where you have been. You are a masterpiece in the making.