Worry Stones


We carry them like stones in our pockets. Throughout the day we hold them in our hands and rub the rough edges with our thumb. We pick them up without even thinking. Carry them with us where ever we go.
Worries. Cares. Anxieties.
Some small, some more like boulders. Whatever their size, they are familiar to us. The weight of them in our pockets, the coolness of them in our hands, the memory of them in our minds. We turn them over and over. Holding on, holding tight.
{join me over at (in)courage for the rest?}

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