Several years ago T.D. Jakes wrote a book titled Reposition yourself, Living a Life Without Limits.  He opens the book with a story about a young boy who was learning about eagles in school.

          The boy was in love with eagles.  He was so enamored with this majestic bird it was all he could think about.  He learned that the eagle had a 8 to 9 ft. wing span and could fly higher that any other bird. He learned how it could catch thermals and soar for hours and how its' keen eyesight allowed it to see for miles. 

        One day the young boy determined he had to see a real eagle for himself.  He packed a lunch and his binoculars and set out to the plains where he knew eagles had been seen.

         After hours of trekking into the countryside the boy spotted something in the distance.  With his binoculars he could see the distinctive shape of the majestic bird he longed to see.   

          He was mesmerized as he watched the eagle turn and soar.  Suddenly the eagle tucked his wings and went into a dive.  For a couple of seconds he disappeared behind the trees then just as quickly began streaking toward the sky.  A few seconds into his ascent the bird began to struggle.  It was obvious to the young boy the eagle was in trouble.  

          The boy watched helpless as the giant bird plummeted toward the ground and disappeared behind the trees.  He watched for signs of life but nothing.   

          He had to know what had happened to the eagle.  It took over twenty minutes to get to the spot where he thought the eagle must be.  He searched and searched but saw nothing.  

          Just as he was turning to go, he spotted it.  There face down in the dirt was his eagle.  He cautiously approached the bird only to realize that it was indeed dead.  The boy thought to himself, "I have to know what killed the eagle."

          The boy carefully turned the huge bird over and there attached to the regal chest of the eagle was a weasel, one of the lowliest of common ground critters. This ordinary weasel had bitten into the heart of the eagle killing him.

          "Now I see what happened to the eagle", the boy thought.  "He picked up something that he wouldn't let go of."   The boy began to shout at the dead eagle, "You were stronger than that old weasel!  He could never hurt you if you didn't pick it up and hold on to it."   

           What weasels are you holding on to?  Our weasels tend to be a little more subtle don't they?  They might be a habit, fear or an attitude that is slowly eating at our heart until we can't let go.    

           I had a little sign made that hangs over my desk.    "Drop the weasel"