If I was a Statue

100_1103If I was a statue, I would be a work of art carved from either marble or stone—a masterpiece of a Da Vinci. I would sit in front of a building, guarding both it and the row of hedges behind me. Whoever would see me would awe and say, “My! That’s a beautiful work!” But gawkers would have to come to me to see the talent that created me, I wouldn’t be able to go to them. I would be beautiful, a site to behold. . . and a target for pigeons. A toilet, and I wouldn’t even be able to retaliate. . . . Everyday would be the same—the same view, the same job, the same pigeon dung. I would sit there, enjoying the same, dull beauties, and struggling through the same, dark trials.

Life would be easy if everything staid the same . . . but things change in our lives for a reason. We have new people come into our story, as others leave us. We experience new places, new sights, new adventures—the world is constantly changing, and there’s nothing that we can do to stop it.

What if we could become a statue? Stay rooted in one period of our life, wouldn’t we be in paradise? Continue reading

Cookie in the Hall

I was climbing up the steps of my dorm, heading to my room, when something at the top caught my eye—a half eaten cookie. I thought about picking it up, and shamefully, I admit that I didn’t. Excuses filled my head: My hands are full. I don’t want to touch something with someone else’s slobber on it. Someone else is going to pick it up, I don’t need to.

 . . . How many times to we go through life, and we see a cookie that needs to be picked up, and we know that we should, but we don’t? “I’m too busy.” “I don’t want to be involved in someone else’s mess.” “Someone else will take care of it, I don’t need to.” Continue reading