I so enjoyed reading Marci's post last week. Beautiful and from the heart. It touched me so deeply that it was a very difficult challenge to wait until today to share!!!!
Marci, thank you for your heart and your words. It was like I said before almost poetic in content. God is so good and so faithful. That shines so clearly in your blog. I look forward to get to know you better in the future!!! Blessings my friend!!!!
By Marci Kreek
All my life I have appreciated nature. I loved being outside and I especially loved finding cool rocks or stones. Some tiny, some the size of my hand (which was still pretty small as a 6 year old). Smooth stones, sparkling gem-like "jewels", fossilized rocks and rocks that had the most amazing colour or pattern. I moved, traveled, roamed, and ran away. All the time collecting rocks and saving them in a plastic grocery bag (back when they were free and there was no shame in using one).
There were times in my life of not having a place to call home and in these times it seemed especially dumb to lug along or ask a friend to store for me, a grocery bag of rocks, but I could never bring myself to part with them. They were one of the few survivors after almost everything that was once "mine" was gone, simply because they were worth nothing- at least not to anyone but me.
2 years ago we bought our second house as a married couple. The beginning of the summer we dug up a 20'x2' garden at the side of the house. I planted wild flowers in it. A week ago we cleaned our garage and found my infamous bag of rocks. I felt my usual wave of embarrassment at the awkwardness of a grown woman having a rock collection, but my sweetheart hubby never made it "weird". It suddenly struck me to scatter the rocks in our new garden. I was quite excited about the idea so I went straight to it. After a brief moment they were all in. I sighed in satisfaction. They had a home. A place to belong. Then, like a crashing wave from behind it just hit me that I did too. I started to cry and I couldn't stop. My poor husband held me while I snotted into his shirt in our dusty garage.
God was not always important to me, but, I'm learning that I mattered to Him. He held onto me when no one else did (for some strange reason). He carried me along and brought me here (in the philosophical sense). I'm not sure what the next part of the journey will bring, but I know I want to grow in my understanding of Him and His love. As for now, I'm happy my rocks (and I) have a place to belong.