I love rocks. I always have. I have beautiful childhood memories of selling hand-painted rocks (for a penny) with my sister at my mom’s yard sales. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always noticed rocks, and kept unique finds. I mean, they really are amazing, right? RIGHT?! Right. I’m the crazy woman stopping my family in the middle of… everywhere… to look at rocks. I’m the crazy woman taking pictures of rocks (and possibly using them as backgrounds in pictures… stationary… resumes…). Let’s face it, if you know me, you know that I’m just the crazy woman, period.
Rocks gained new meaning a couple of years ago for our family. After surviving the Joplin tornado in May ’11, our son, Jax (who was five at the time), developed PTSD, Anxiety Disorder, and elevated OCD. Starting kindergarten that August was a massive struggle for him. One day after a therapy session, where we’d discussed ways he could cope with school, I had a lightbulb moment.
That afternoon, Jax and I went on a rock hunt. He found the perfect rock, small enough to fit into his pocket. The next morning, while getting the kids ready for school, I held the rock and prayed over it. I prayed for God to be in the rock, and for Jax to feel safe and secure and strong while at school. I made sure that Jax saw me kiss the rock before putting it in his pocket. Anytime during the day that he either began to miss me, or get nervous, all he had to do was reach into his pocket and hold the rock. Jax knew that #1: It had been prayed over and carried strength, and #2: It had his momma’s kisses on it. Day 1: SUCCESS… SCORE! Yay, thank you Jesus!
Two days later, Jax lost the rock at school. It created a little bit of tension for him, but then we started gathering several rocks at a time. I prayed over two and put one in his desk as an extra, and the other in his pocket. This little act got us through kindergarten… AND first grade!!! On his first day of second grade, he took a rock, but declined it the second day of school. Woot, woot! I have to admit though, that I still keep rocks laying around. Maybe it’s just a little reminder of how far God has brought this boy, and our family, since that time. Maybe momma doesn’t let go so easily; either way, I like seeing the rocks here and there.
It absolutely amazed me everyday how such a simple thing could be such a source of strength for him. Now, there were hard days of course, and Jax faced numerous obstacles over time. In fact, it’s only been in the last six months that we’ve seen dramatic improvement. (Thank you, Lord). But all in all, the rocks were a major stepping stone in our lives (no pun intended!).
As it turns out, it is no coincidence that rocks turned out to be our answer for giving Jax peace at school. Psalm 62:5-7 says, “Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God, he is my mighty rock, my refuge.”
I’m beyond grateful for all of the times in our lives that God has been our rock. They are more numerous than I can count. HE is strong, and in HIM we find the strength we need to make it through all the junk of everyday life. Told ya rocks were cool 😉
I’m not a fan of poetry, but I had to create a poetry portfolio for a class last fall. I hadn’t planned on writing about any of my children (mainly, because the professor had denied us that right), but my abstract poem (which I’d decided would be over fear) ended up transforming into something about Jax. Ooops! Don’t worry, my professor never found out, ha! Anyways, my poems are sort of embarrassing. I’m not that great, but feel a post about this subject would be remiss without sharing this poem. Enjoy… or not… but please, no poetry critiques here… I’m over that!
This one smooth, another ridged.
His plump fingers decide which to keep and which to reject.
Each rock beneath his feet becomes a contender for the call.
A mother’s kiss, a silent prayer, and
stones unaware become heroes unseen.
Guardians at fingers reach.
Hidden within the weary seams of his pockets, they offer
protection from the villain which his mind cannot escape.