Rocks of Ages

I’ve been planning this week to write about seeds and plants and growing things. I took pictures of our crocuses in bloom last week and also the seedlings that are growing in our living room. I grumbled a bit when Jay and Peter planted the tomato and zinnia seeds about them taking over the space on the trunk in the living room, but they’ve become such a lovely reminder of hope. When I see them each day I remember a line from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem God’s Grandeur: ‘There lives the dearest freshness deep down things.’

But as I’ve been praying about what to write about today, I’ve been hearing not seeds or plants or springtime, but stones, rocks. And two particular stones or rocks have been on my mind last week, both of them birthday gifts from my children. It’s been a week of remembering around here – it’s probably been that way for you too, remembering the early days of the pandemic and stay at home orders. Last year, my birthday was at the beginning of all that.

Jay and I had flown home from Israel a few days early, and soon after we got back I got really sick with a stomach bug. And of course, we were under self-quarantine, so it was a pretty subdued birthday celebration. I spent the morning sick in bed, and crawled out in the afternoon to open the gifts the kids had bought with the help of their grandparents. And one of the gifts that day was a small, flat coral colored stone with the word ‘patience’ carved into it. The kids were quick to explain that they weren’t saying I needed more patience, just that they thought I would like it. (I suspect that was only partially true – I do actually need more patience, particularly at home where I of course want my children to do exactly what I want them to do immediately when I want them to do it . . . but that’s probably the subject for a different midweek reflection.)

Anyway, they gave me this stone with the word patience carved into it, and I teared up, realizing it might be exactly the right word to pray with in the midst of all of the pandemic uncertainty.

And it’s been a good, hard word for this year. Praying for patience as we navigated online school last spring. Trying to be patient last summer when our refrigerator broke and we were using coolers for several weeks till the new one arrived. Learning more patience with each other as we all struggled in different ways with the challenges of these days – the isolation, the boredom and frustration, the anxieties. Patience – it was the right the word at the right time.

All the same, when we were talking last week as a family about my birthday coming up and Jay the kids were asking for gift suggestions, I informed them I did not want another rock with the word patience on it! So this year, instead, they got me a different stone with a different word on it. It’s a much heavier stone, carved and polished in the shape of a heart, a deep orange color. And carved on this rock is the word hope. And once again, I teared up looking at it, holding it, because it feels like exactly the right word to hold on to as we continue to live with uncertainty. And as things are different this year. Last spring was the beginning of lots of things shutting down, this spring vaccines are becoming available, and our kids are starting the sports seasons that were cancelled last year. Last year we were wondering how we might worship together online, this year it’s become familiar and we’re beginning to plan for worshipping together in person again. Things are different this year. And there’s still a lot that’s uncertain. And in all of it hope feels like a good word to pray with, a good rock to hold on to for this time.