The Gift of Self (once received)

Left to myself

I would carry my allotted inheritance

like a pack-

Ever out of sight

Behind me

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

Into eternity.

Thank You.

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