Reformed Grits

Rock on
October 4, 2008, 11:03 pm
Filed under: Faith

I think I'm figuring out why I like rocks so much.  I have 3 rocks in my house that I keep. 

This one is the first rock I brought back from Scotland, aka our "Ebenezer Stone" from Dunsinane Hill.    Yes, I know it looks like a potato, but it's a rock.  I promise.

This one I thought I'd never get:  it's the stone from the same hill when we went back the second time.   We left one on top of the hill that we plucked from his gravesite before we left.  Corny and cheesy, I know.  But I do like some cheese with my corn.

The last one is a little rock, I doubt anyone knows the story of– even the momma of the little fellow who gave it to me.   My dear friend, Meg, who is a commenter on this here bloggy and lives way far away many states over, and I have been friends since we were children.  She has 7 children now on earth and one in heaven… but strangely enough we have never been pregnant together.  Go figure.  When I was pregnant with John Knox she announced her 5th pregnancy just a week or so later and I was thrilled beyond measure that we would be pregnant together — finally!  Of course, we all know how that ended for me but she went on to have a beautiful wee boy, baby D.  I always wanted to know what D was up to because that would make me remember what my boy would have been doing since they were due a week apart.  Smiling, rolling over, sitting up, crawling, walking…

I finally had the opportunity to meet baby D last summer as he was a big almost-20 month old boy.  He was precious and busy, like boys are, and as you would expect didn't have too much to do with me as much as I wanted to squeeze him.  He was lovey enough but he didn't have the same affection for me that I had for him!   Anyway, on the day we were to leave I was getting in our vehicle to return home when baby D toddled up to me and held something out to me.  I was thrilled after being virtually ignored by him all weekend that this very special-to-me child would have some type of parting gift. 
He handed me this, of which I never cease to be reminded:
I don't think it was anything more than a little sweet boy handing me a rock that he found, but it was profound for me. 
Rocks are a re-occuring theme in my life.  But in the last year or so this "rock" has meant so much to me:

He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.  Psalm 40:2


Do you ever just feel like you are stuck in miry clay?  In life situations?  Relationships?  Sadness?   I have great news for you.  Your feet can be place firmly on a ROCK.  No more sinking sand; no more mucky mud.   I'm so thankful that I'm incapable of digging myself out of a pit– I would only dig deeper–, but that I have been BROUGHT up and OUT of the pit and PLACED on a rock. 

The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock,
in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my
stronghold. Psalm 18:2