Stones

  “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” John 8:7

 

  “They found that the stone had been rolled away.” Luke 24:2

 

  Inuksuk: “To act in the capacity of a human.”

 

  My friend and I are going rock hunting this afternoon. They are needed to build a couple of small retaining walls beside the new shed. The gardens on either side are quite deep so I want to prevent the soil from falling into the shed wall.

  I enjoy building stone walls. It’s like doing a heavy jigsaw puzzle held in place by gravity. It takes a few tries to find a rock that fits and ties into its’ neighbour. It sometimes requires a smaller stone wedged in place to keep the bigger stones steady.

  A few posts ago, it was mentioned that nobody had ever told me I was beautiful. It’s been rolling around in my head, not gathering moss. Hadn’t they? Was I unable to hear it said?

  When I was sixteen, working my first job, my forty-something boss grabbed me by both arms and pulled me tightly to his body. “I could just do you,” he hoarsely whispered, his squinted and lustful eyes pierced my soul.

  He quickly let go, thank God. Maybe he saw how terror had drained the colour from my face. Maybe he felt me desperately trying to pull away from the nearness of him. I never spoke. I couldn’t.

  He never did anything like that again but eventually quit to return to his original career: high school guidance counselor. I pray he never did anything like this to a student.

  That’s not the same as being told I was beautiful.

  An Inuksuk, today's image, is a signpost made of rock. Inuit people have used them for millennia. They speak a coded language telling those able to read the sign where good hunting is, where a cache of food is. They act as permanent guides pointing out safe passages and away from dangerous ones.

  My boss’s hands were made of stone.

 

  “Giving up can look like complete disengagement OR it can look like complete compliance. Both are versions of despair.” Danielle Strickland

  Compliance was the cornerstone my life was built upon. The moment I read this quote from Danielle, I felt God tap me on the shoulder. “This was you.” He rolled the stone away so I could understand.

  The dictionary defines despair as the feeling of no longer having any hope.

  Hope is what we build dreams on. As children, dreams might be around owning a pony or being an astronaut. As young adults, dreams might be what a perfect wedding would look like or what it will be like to be rich. Older folks imagine retirement, or holidays, or being grandparents.

  My childhood dream turned my bed into a horse drawn, covered wagon. It was not about exploring the world. It was not about seeing things I’d never seen. All I wanted to do was get away.

  Hopes and dreams were for other people.

  The boulders of despair pointed my heart in the opposite direction. I still struggle with envisioning the future. (Smile.) At least I don’t need to worry about it then: the what ifs, the maybes. (Bigger smile.) It means I can happily dwell in this present moment, sitting here, typing, having no idea where God is taking this.

  It’s exciting to see where He is going. It’s like celebrating Easter Sunday every time I sit and write and watch God roll the stone away. Not so I can get into the tomb, but to let me out.

 

  Depression is the offspring of chronic despair.

  Danielle’s words gave me clarity to understand the reason for living in a chronic state of depression for most of my life.

  It was despair. Compliancy came into being out of desperation and a complete absence of hope.

  I will say that all that kept me going was this vague idea, the whisper that one day, things will get better.

  They have.

  God knows how I love finding answers because those stones are diamonds!