What if there was a place you could watch your life rolling past, sometimes gently, sometimes turbulently, mostly just generically, one portion the same as the next but for the odd debris or detritis floating by, here or there? What if there was a way you could take your troubles and condense them into hard, manageable chunks to be thrown, sometimes violently, sometimes softly, into that beautiful life rolling silently past, and thereby rid yourself of the burdens?
What if that life could absorb all that trouble and hide it deep below the visible and far, far from us, slowly working to bury, or change, that trouble, so that you would never again have to throw stones into the river on beautiful days in September?
Would you throw your stones into God's river, never to be seen again? Or would you hold them close, jangling loose in your angry pockets, making open sores on your hips and thighs as you bounce along the rocky way, to be reserved for that time when you needed to throw rocks at some other pained and worried stone bearer?
Would you?
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