Left to myself
I would carry my allotted inheritance
like a pack-
Ever out of sight
Treating it more like a burden than a gift.
Attached like taffy to an immovable source
I’d fight against it (I do)
Toil and pull and try in vain to
break free of my self
And its inextricably bound attachments.
My sight would seek that which
seems better, more attractive –
Seeing others’ packs
My distractive nature
So easily wooed by what’s-not-mine-and-so-must-be-better
Runs after the forbidden burdens
And wonders why I can’t pull free
From my own.
But You, You bid me stop struggling against
what’s mine to carry.
You invite me to explore
What You’ve prepared.
You invite me to hand You the burden
– that it’s not so burdensome –
And peek inside.
Longing for me to discover the gifts therein,
(The luxurious, luminous, named-just-for-me gifts)
I stop running and fighting and peek a little,
Hoping in the gift out of trust of the Giver,
And I wonder why others’ packs
were so tantalizing.
Suited for this, here, now,
There is enough treasure to occupy and delight.
And should I come fully, willingly, faithfully and
Accept what You’ve given,
The rest, fullness, and beauty of my own inheritance,
designed perfectly by You, for me,
Will grow and extend