My Rock

 When I was in junior high our church group took a visit to a man who polished rocks. He had a whole room full of rocks. Some were shiny, some were raw. I was in awe because I loved rocks. I had a collection of pretty rocks I'd found on the farm. I added to a collection of bigger rocks outside. I was able to purchase a small box that displayed different kinds of stones and gave the name of them. I cherished the box and studied them often.

The farm I grew up on had lots of rocks. Every spring we would go out to a field and walk behind the wagon or skid and pick up rocks. We had a really big rock pile near a stream where we dumped the rocks we found. Sometimes we found the top of a very large rock and the tractor would have to help pull it out of the ground. It would be positioned in a place of honor on the barnyard or lawn.

When John and I first got married we lived in a mobile home in the country and one of my first landscaping acts was to find rocks and encircle a flower bed area all along the length of the mobile home. Now that we live in Ankeny we have no rocks in our lawn, except for ones we had to buy from a landscaping place. 

The Bible has no lack of mention of rocks and stones. There are many scriptures that reference God as our rock. Maybe that's why I've always loved the imagery that rocks represent.

"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation," (2 Samuel 22:2-3b NIV).

When I was in the depths of depression this verse blessed me with hope. "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand," (Psalm 40:2 NIV).

"Praise be to the Lord my Rock," (Psalm 144:1 NIV).