There’s a pair of hands, cradling a pile of miscellany. There are all kinds of odds and ends in this pile, which seem not at all related upon first glance.

But upon a second glance, they will start to take a single, unrepeatable shape.

In both these hands, held fastened together by the holder’s strength, there lies a treasure trove of personal paraphernalia. A veritable hoard of whozits and whatzits galore, that both reflect and capture the light that shines upon it. This is, of course, due to the fact that the owner of said hands had blown away all the dust clinging to these common items, transforming them into artifacts of grace.

Now, these two cradling hands are quite large, and so they’re able to hold quite a bit. In fact, they’re most like Mary Poppins’ magic bag. Although, it’d be more accurate to say that Mary Poppins’ magic bag is like these depthless hands.

Anyhow, back to the hands. They’re important, you see. Quite a lot.

The owner of these hands holding this collection of stuff has no problem doing so. He’s been doing it for some time, and I expect He’ll continue to do so. Indefinitely.

This particular stash of mish-mashed items includes, but is not limited to: tickets (stubs of good times past), pop bottle caps (blown off due to mounting inward pressure), a fingerful of sequins (collected slowly and meticulously), smooth, colourful stones (formed by time and surroundings), whittled sticks carved with various sets of initials (the clean wood cut into by a handful of both clean and dirty blades, both careful and careless, truth-filled and lie-saturated, though only the clean, careful and truth-filled initials still remain), a book of matches (each stick something that continually ignites the owner of this pile), a four-holed button (that once held together a pocket that was meant to stay open), a pen (the tip of which is softly sharp and dripping with ink), an origami turtle (the slow, steady pace that is typical of this pile)…

…a bell (known to ring consciously), a tiny plastic vial of soy sauce (the seasoning this collection carries), a paintball (a colourful mark yet to be made), a dog’s tag (a loyal love, and tail-wagging silliness), a Star Wars Lego character (a childhood not yet past), a pair of ear plugs (for times of well-chosen, imposed silence), a reinforced strip of plaid cloth (for containing a head of auburn hair, and its braids), an empty vial (for encapsulating future moments), wax paper (rolling certain things off is a must), label maker tape (organization is pursued in this pile), two locks linked together, with a single key (a vision of the future), golf tees (supporters that raised up), and a miniature Bible (truth that covered it all).

These are just some of my collected things.

All these items will one day be atypical vestiges once days are done, but for now, they’re all things that He’s collected because they’re mine.

They’re things that I’ve placed in those hands which were willingly pierced upon a crossed tree, things that I know He smiles at, and things He will continue to increase.

Since He defines this collection’s value and safeguards its existence, He’ll ensure its future.

He’s got it all in His hands.

He’s got my whole world in His hands.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.

So there I rest, because I know His hands to be good.