Do I know my worth?
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that today during journalling time I was asking myself this question because Papa was asking me if I know my value.
It’s no coincidence that just a few days ago, I walked down an imperfect sidewalk and passed an old key.
The first time I passed by, I picked up the key, considering keeping the found treasure. But I stopped because I thought, “What if this key is someone’s they dropped and they actually need it?” So I placed the key back on the ground where I first spotted it. I wanted to keep the key, because there’s something special about finding treasures.
I walked down the same path the following day, wondering if the key was still there. I saw it, but left it on the ground.
// sidenote // When I placed the key back on the ground the first time, I thought “Papa if the key is still there when I walk by tomorrow, that means it wasn’t needed and it’s a gift to me, yeah?” //
Third day. I walk the path again, wondering if the key was still there. I didn’t see it so I assumed someone else picked up the treasure.
I’m walking back to our hostel/yurt and wonder, “Maybe, just maybe, the key is still there. Maybe I just missed spotting it earlier.”
This is the fourth time. I spot the key and almost leave it, but decide it’s not a needed possession. I pick up the treasure and hold it.
Why was I so captured by this simple key?
Why did I not just leave it the first time and forget about it? It was not a special key. It wasn’t unique and didn’t seem rare.
Why did I want to keep the key? A normal looking key that’s a bit rusted.
As I’m walking, I’m wondering why this key is now in my hand.
Papa whispers to me,
Andrea, you are like this key.
I have not forgotten you.
I have not dropped you and forgotten where you fell out of my grasp.
I have not left you on the ground to be forgotten and stepped on.
I have not left you to lay where trash, weeds and dirt lay.
I’ve sought you out.
I’ve picked you up, and you are my treasure.
I treasure you.
You are worth treasuring.
Dang.
Today I sought out a necklace chain for this key. To wear around my neck as a reminder. A reminder that I am worthy. I am valuable. A physical picture to remind me that Papa would wear me around his neck and he’s proud to tell the story. Just like I told the story of this key 3 times today.
Whoa.
I’m telling you, the little things speak the loudest to me.
It’s a pretty normal looking key. It’s got some rust spots and is unique, though it looks so common or normal.
Do you know your worth?
What physical reminder do you have that Papa has used to speak to you about your value?
Do I know my worth?
No. Honestly I forget all too easily what Papa reminds me of so often.
That I’m his daughter. I’m his beloved.
I forget too quickly the truth others speak over me and encourage my spirit with.
I forget too quickly.
But I have reminders.
Thank you Papa. You give me people as reminders. You give me rusty keys as reminders. You give me worship songs as reminders. You whisper to me on walks. You remind me in journal pages.
// What are your reminders of your worth?
// Do you believe it to be true?
