One story on this theme that might speak to you is from My Grandfather’s Blessings by Rachel Remen. The story goes that this six year old boy, from a poor family, became friends with his neighbor, a woman physician. They would play with his two hot wheel cars. They would race them on the window sills. Sometimes one would have the one with a chipped wheel; sometimes the other. The woman loved him very much. When a local promotion from a gas station advertised a free hot wheels car with every fill up, she mobilized her friends to get all 21 varieties of the hot wheels. Then she presented them to him in a big box. After a short time she noticed he had stopped playing with them. She asked him why he’d stopped. “He looked away and in a quivery voice he said, ‘I don’t know how to love this many cars, Rachel.’ I was stunned. Ever since, I’ve been careful to be sure not to have more Hot Wheels than I can love.” (p. 44).
We’re working on loving our exceedingly few hot wheels, four to be exact, found on our aging camper van. It’s home now for us in these days before we leave on October 7th for the UK. Thanks for praying with and for us that our time there will be free of clutching, grasping, but rather one that leads to an open and spacious place of reverence, wholeness, and holiness. Thank you, our loving and praying friends.
