Baby girl, she decided she was going to take home two cans of grape pop from the church picnic and she wanted me to help her carry the cans to the car just in case her Mama forgot them. So we walked to the car–she carrying one and me carrying the other. The car door was locked so we set the pop cans in the gravel next to the car door and she was happy knowing her grape pop was that much closer to going home with her.
I reached down to hold her hand as we walked back to the picnic area and her tiny fingers were clasped into a tight fist. What’s in your hand, I asked–and she looked up at me with those blue eyes–eyes that match the color of sky and with a smile I do believe only four-year old little girls can muster up–she said, ‘nuthin’ with a giggle.
And I said, ‘you do too have something in your hand and we walked a few more steps and she said, ‘wanna see what’s in my hand? It’s a rock I found!’ And she spread her tiny hand to show me her treasure.
An hour or so passed and it was time to leave the picnic and as her Mama was buckling her into the car seat she told her to give me, her Granna the rock–fearful she might swallow it on the way home. And baby girl did so, reluctantly. I dropped the rock in my pocket gave her eyes and nose kisses and said good-byes with luv yous.
It wasn’t until I got home I realized the rock was actually a seed. Sometimes they look the same but their substances and purposes are entirely different. The rock will break and never produce any type of seeds and the seed will never grow hard enough for the strength of carrying another’s load. And yes, we desperately need them both.
Her legs are strengthened by the help of her shiny silver walker. Her snow white hair, evident of her 72 years of life. And her gratitude shines grace.
‘I thank Him for everything,’ she said. ‘If I get a good parking place at Wal-Mart, I thank Him. He provided that good parking place for me.’
‘And I know if I go through a storm, He won’t leave me during the storm and He will be there when I come out of the storm. He’s good to me and I thank Him.’
And I sat there across the table and soaked in her words.
Her bold testimony, her smile–I can’t help but imagine all of the seeds she has planted over her lifetime. How many people have leaned on her as she leaned on her Rock.
This beauty–I only met her a few nights ago. And because of her gratitude–because of the seeds she planted in each of us–because she shared loudly her love for the rock of her life, because of her–every woman left that room with a fuller heart. A deeper seed. A stronger hold on the Rock. Because of her.
But that on the good ground are they, which in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience. Luke 8:15
In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. Psalm 62:7