The Ones You Pick Up

I like rocks.

Yes, I like the shiny ones. The ones you can buy in stores that someone spent time polishing until they catch the light just right.

But more than anything, I like the kind you find on a walk.

The ones you pick up without really planning to.

The ones with a stripe, or a spot, or just something about them that makes you pause for a second longer than you expected.

They aren’t rare.

They aren’t valuable in any way the world would measure.

They’re ordinary.

The kind most people walk past without ever noticing.

But every now and then, one catches your eye.

And for reasons you can’t quite explain, you pick it up.

There’s a small collection of them on my desk as I write this.

Well… collection might be too strong a word.

It’s really just a few.

Three small ones.

And one about the size and shape of a cinnamon roll.

None of them match.

None of them belong to anything bigger.

None of them needed to become something else before I decided they were worth carrying home.

I simply noticed them.

I chose them.

I carried them.

And I kept them.

I’ve been thinking about that.

We live in a world that puts so much value on being polished.

Finished.

Useful.

Impressive.

We learn to notice the things that shine, and sometimes we begin to believe we have to shine before we are worth noticing too.

But God has never had trouble seeing the ordinary.

He notices people sitting beside wells.

People hiding in trees.

People working in fields.

People mending nets.

People standing at the edges of crowds hoping no one will notice them at all.

Again and again, Scripture tells the stories of people the world might have walked right past.

But God stopped.

He saw them.

And maybe that is why I like the rocks I find on walks more than the polished ones in stores.

They remind me that being noticed does not begin with becoming something extraordinary.

Sometimes you are noticed while you are still dusty from the road.

Still rough around the edges.

Still looking very much like something everyone else could have walked past.

And somehow, you are still worth choosing.

Still worth carrying.

Still worth keeping.

Not because you became valuable when you were noticed.

But because your value was already there.

You were simply seen.

- Eden