A Reminder in Stone

At different times over the years, I have carried a object around, usually in my pocket, as a reminder.  Every time I see or touch the item, it reminds me of something I want to keep in the front of my mind.

When my mother died, we found a small brooch, a simple ring of small pearls, in her jewelry box.   If our collective memories are accurate, belonged to Mom's mother.  For several months, I wore it on the lapel of my winter jacket, so that whenever I wore my coat, I would think about Mom.  I would remember afresh my grief, and find a way to keep bringing that into everyday living.  As winter turned to spring, it was time to put the coat away, and the brooch in a drawer.

Now I am in another time of transition.  Earlier in May, while I was in a period of quiet and prayer, one word rose up in my mind.  Trust.  I felt it as a request, as an offer, maybe even a plea.  I was being asked to trust in God, to let go of my fear, and live into each moment as openly as I can.  Trusting in that way has always been challenging, even as I want to be able to do it.

Just a short time later, I remembered a small, flat, brown stone with the word "trust" chiseled into it.  Given to me by David in a previous time of transition, I had carried it in my pocket for uncounted months.  I soon found the polished stone in a drawer, close to the pearl brooch. Now it is in my pocket again, reminding me of that gentle urging to trust in God whatever happens.

How long will I need it this time?