There was this big rock that just sat there when I was young.
From a distance, it seemed like a hug boulder, you couldn’t move it, it just sat there.
This rock was on the property of my grandparents, on a lake in South Dakota.
Things in life were finer there. I don’t mean we were rich in money, but rich in life and laughter. There were wood pillars that faced many thunderstorms and ropes that were ripped and fallen. The grass was brittle but it grew like corn. And there was this big rock.
It served its purpose well, as the mountain climbing experience for our barbies and GI Joe’s. The stove in which we cooked our soup.
A mixture of lake water, a few leaves, weeds…for flavor
Some good size pebbles so we could actually stir something
! and of course a sprinkle of gravel.
To the left of the rock, depending where you sat, stood this yellow lanterned man. His lantern shined dimly from dusk till we noticed it off.
And though the cowbells and leaves continue to cling to him, he was still ours.
I pause, remembering the past, realizing it’s easier to talk about and it makes me smile. I could continue with stories such as: hearing the fish splash, unexpectedly. Or watching our attempts to haul as many little rocks from the road to the dock, and eventually to the water with a plunk. I could talk for hours of the many blissful 4th of Julys. The time I lit the shell, and it almost fired in my ear, or the memorable later laughable time my cousin fell into the lake. I could sing you a few songs from the campfires we had. The time we used cumin instead of cinnamon for the biscuits. My list will go on, and on and continue down the well walked gravel road.
Because being here with all the memories, good and bad allows me to pounder and thank the Lord for how blessed I am . And as long as this big rock sits and even years later, when the memories get foggy, my God, he won’t. So thank you Jesus, I am grateful and I am blessed.