I’m reprinting this story because I gave my rock to a friend yesterday. She is the aunt of a seventeen year old boy who is struggling with all sorts of issues. She wants to save him so she took her own sister to court to get custody.
When I walked into court I handed her my peace rock because it has the power to help in special situations.
Here’s the story of my peace rock. (And fyi, the aunt’s story had a happy ending.)
A little less than a year ago my brother, Granger, died. It was a pretty horrific and heartbreaking situation. Granger was my last living family member. That’s why I sometimes feel like the last creature from my herd; the last zebra with these stripes.
The day I got the phone call, telling me Granger wasn’t going to make it, I was hanging out with my kiddos, Lexie and Sandor, who was 8 at the time. We were looking at some funky art in a tiny gallery on Central Avenue. When the phone rang I stepped outside to take the call.
I was told he might make the next 24 hours, but it was doubtful. My big brother was going to die and leave me here, all alone.
My heart thumped with pain and I tried to breath evenly. I didn’t want to break down and wail in front of the kids. It was really hot that day, almost a hundred degrees but I shivered in the sunshine and I prayed.
“Lord, please help me with this, please help me find some peace and strength to get through this. I don’t have much left. Just help me find some peace, Lord, because I don’t understand this.”
Peace and strength, that’s all I wanted. After I prayed I felt a little better. I took three giant breaths and willed myself not to cry then I walked back into the gallery to find the kids.
Lexie was looking at an abstract painting of a horse, or maybe it was a volcano. I took her hand, it was warm and dry and felt nice. For a moment I stared at the painting with her. “Where’s Sandor?”
“He went out back to play with Daniel and Ben.”
I nodded and decided I wouldn’t tell them about Granger until we got home.
I willed myself not to start crying as I walked to the galleries’ back door. Sandor and two other little boys were squating next to a pot- hole filled with black water.
“Come on Boy Boy,” I yelled. He popped up like a jack-in-the-box and ran to me.
“Look what I found, Mom.” He stuck his grubby hand in his pocket and waited for me to stretch out my hand. Then he placed a smooth river stone on my palm. “Look at it!” he said excitedly.
I unwrapped my fingers and stared at the grey rock. The word PEACE was etched into the surface. I looked at Sandor, who was grinning.”Where did you get this?”
He was bouncing just a little. “I found it in the puddle over there,” he said and pointed to the pot hole. “You can have it,” he said cheerfully than ran off to find Lexie.
Granger did die the next day. I kept that rock in my pocket for the next two weeks. Now it stays in the cup holder in my car. I rub when I need to and sometimes, when other people need a little Peace, I share my rock.
I’m pretty sure God and Granger would want me to pass the peace.
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