I have collected rocks my whole life. I love finding them myself, but I am honored when one of my sons drops a heart rock into my palm, after a walk in the woods or trip to the store. I also received rocks as gifts from my parents as a child. I remember a snow selenite for Christmas, a quartz egg for Easter.
One birthday my Nana gave me a collection of rocks and minerals. It came in a tray, each specimen in its own little cell. The cardboard lid was the identification key. All in one swoop, I was the very proud owner of many “gems”: pyrite, quartz, hematite, feldspar, lodestone, pumice, and even a clear slab of rock salt, which I licked every time I opened the lid. It was like my own box of assorted chocolates, only better.
I didn’t see my Nana often or know her well. She lived far away, but she loved me sweetly and her gifts to me were always on-target. She seemed to know exactly what her granddaughter loved. She gave me many beautiful books too, but that collection of rocks and minerals glistens brightest in my memory.
How many gems has God given me throughout my life? How many would there be if I could keep them all neatly ordered in a collection to number and admire? They are as many as the pretty stones under my feet. Some hidden, I’ll never know. Some bless me often as they catch my eye. Some I pass casually, never realizing that He put them in my path to bless me, but I’m blessed just the same. My Nana was a precious one.
Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow. James 1:17
Meeting God at the Park 