July 22
Everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. Matthew 7:24
Since a little girl I have always been fascinated with rocks. Walking through the woods near our home, my father or my Uncle Jack would point out various rock formations with their sparkling striate coloring and various shapes and he’d tell stories about their origination. One day we came upon an area where there were huge grey, smoothly shaped ones, all sitting neatly, one after another, seemingly specifically placed over the landscape. My Dad told me it was an old Indian burial ground. To this day I still do not know whether it was a story told to a fascinated little seven year old girl to joggle her imagination or whether it was true. None the less, the area had a peaceful sacredness about it, yet it had a power I felt, something unyielding and enduring; a sense that touched me then, and has stayed with me all these many years later. The sight of those boulders and the memory of the feeling of holiness, have remained etched in my mind and heart.
Years later, as my Mom was nearing the end of her life, I would sing “On Eagles Wings,” to her, and when I came to the verse “my rock in whom I trust,” the image of those beautiful huge rocks came back to me. Shortly thereafter, Mom was buried in a National Cemetery and as is the practice there, the location of the burial site is unknown until the time occurs. Imagine my surprise when we arrived! Beside Mom’s, and later Dad’s spot, which was at the end of a row back near woods, there standing in it’s quiet fortitude and glorious sparkling color, was the most beautiful boulder I could have ever imagined! Needless to say, I was overwhelmed with emotion, but smiling through my tears. How God’s presence was felt there as the hymn echoed in my heart . . . and I knew, Mom was in God’s loving arms.
You, Oh Lord, are the Rock in whom we trust.
Copyright© 2014 Kathleen A. Matson
Everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. Matthew 7:24
Since a little girl I have always been fascinated with rocks. Walking through the woods near our home, my father or my Uncle Jack would point out various rock formations with their sparkling striate coloring and various shapes and he’d tell stories about their origination. One day we came upon an area where there were huge grey, smoothly shaped ones, all sitting neatly, one after another, seemingly specifically placed over the landscape. My Dad told me it was an old Indian burial ground. To this day I still do not know whether it was a story told to a fascinated little seven year old girl to joggle her imagination or whether it was true. None the less, the area had a peaceful sacredness about it, yet it had a power I felt, something unyielding and enduring; a sense that touched me then, and has stayed with me all these many years later. The sight of those boulders and the memory of the feeling of holiness, have remained etched in my mind and heart.
Years later, as my Mom was nearing the end of her life, I would sing “On Eagles Wings,” to her, and when I came to the verse “my rock in whom I trust,” the image of those beautiful huge rocks came back to me. Shortly thereafter, Mom was buried in a National Cemetery and as is the practice there, the location of the burial site is unknown until the time occurs. Imagine my surprise when we arrived! Beside Mom’s, and later Dad’s spot, which was at the end of a row back near woods, there standing in it’s quiet fortitude and glorious sparkling color, was the most beautiful boulder I could have ever imagined! Needless to say, I was overwhelmed with emotion, but smiling through my tears. How God’s presence was felt there as the hymn echoed in my heart . . . and I knew, Mom was in God’s loving arms.
You, Oh Lord, are the Rock in whom we trust.
Copyright© 2014 Kathleen A. Matson