A thin book I pulled out today. Quite randomly. Then again, nothing ever happens randomly with God.
Today especially, I feel so deeply for the people I know, laden with their boxes and balls. Even as I learn to continually lay down my own.
When Punchinello realized where he was, he was embarrassed. For a long time he stayed facedown on the floor, surrounded by his boxes and balls. One of the balls rolled across the floor and stopped at Eli’s workbench. That’s when the woodcarver turned around.
“Punchinello.” Eli’s voice was calm and deep and kind.
The Wemmick didn’t move. He could feel his wooden face turning red.
“Looks like you’ve been carrying a big load.”
The weary Wemmick climbed to his knees but kept his head low.
“These are my boxes and balls,” he said quietly.
“Do you play with boxes and balls?” asked Eli.
Punchinello shook his head.
“Do you like boxes and balls?”
“I like the way they make me feel.”
“And how do they make you feel?”
“Important,” Punchinello answered, still with a small voice.
“Hmmm,” Eli observed, “so you’ve been thinking like the other Wemmicks. You’ve been thinking that the more you have, the better you are, and the happier you’ll be.”
“I suppose so.”
“Come here, Punchinello. I want to show you something.”