There’s space to belong here.

Hold Your Blessings With Open Hands

Years ago, Patty and I bought a 1969 Airstream. I was over the moon. A friend of mine helped me work on it—new carpet, new plumbing, the whole thing. And at some point, he dropped this line on me: "Remember, you don't own this camper. The camper owns you." I laughed. Then I thought about it for a few days. Then I realized he was right. That Airstream was a blessing. We took it to Yellowstone and Glacier with our little kids. But it also needed to be maintained, winterized, protected, worried about. And eventually a storm rolled through, dropped a tree on it, and that was that. We sold it “as is.” Here's what Solomon says in Ecclesiastes 6: God can give someone wealth and possessions and honor, but if they can't enjoy them, it's hevel. Smoke. A grievous evil. The problem isn't the blessing. The problem is the grip. When we clutch our stuff, our health, our job, our plans—when any of it becomes the thing we can't lose—it stops blessing us and starts owning us. Holding things loosely isn't the same as not caring. It's trusting that the One who gave the gift is better than the gift itself. So today, name a few of your blessings out loud. Thank God for each one. And then pray this: Lord, these are Yours. I'm holding them with open hands. You'll be surprised how much lighter you feel.hevel