I visited recently with our youngest grandson about his moving to Springfield, MO. He likes it there ok but it’s all still really new to him, but he did say he really liked the house they were living in. There was a mix-up about which school he would be attending, which was not the one they had toured and I got the feeling he was a little unsettled by that. In the middle of our conversation he said, ‘Nana, I have this rose rock I want to give to you the next time I see you. I’m feeling kind of sentimental today and I want you to have it.’ Pretty grown-up talk coming from a just now 14 year old, I thought. And my heart swelled, to say the least.
I have a whole collection of the treasures he has collected and given me over time… a bird nest with empty eggs, unique rocks or fossils, acorns, feathers, leaves and lots of pretties we have found while hiking the walking paths or just hanging out at our favorite spot on the beach. They are priceless to me because he gave them to me.
When I was a kid we spent one or two weeks every summer camping on Lake Texhoma, on the Oklahoma side. We did drive over the border once though just so we could say we had been to Texas. It was a beautiful lake, with sandy little islands to explore and beautiful clear water. We really ‘roughed it’ back then… army cots, tents, ivory soap on a rope, towels drying on a bush, every meal cooked over a wood fire, strawberry pop, Hershey bars, Superman comic books, nature, swimming or exploring from dawn to dusk and freedom to just be a kid. Bacon and eggs never tasted as good as they did cooked outside over a wood fire.
Daddy took us on explores nearly everyday. We’d walk for miles along the shoreline and through the woods. Every once in a while we’d come upon a rose bush out in the middle of nowhere. Daddy said it was probably planted there by somebody long ago who lived there and if we looked real hard, we might find evidence that they had been there. Lots of times I found little bits of broken depression glass or old canning jar lids, buttons or old clothes pins. And what a thrill it was when I did! I’d daydream about who they could have been and wonder about them all day. And I felt like I had been given a special gift from them asking that they not be forgotten.
Daddy would point out things we didn’t see as we walked along the shore… tracks of some animal down by the water, a fish skeleton, different flowers, rock formations, spider webs, cocoons and all things natural and told us a little story about each one. I was especially fascinated by the fossils, to see oceanic marine life imprinted in the sandstone… it was hard to imagine how it could be so. Today I think of them as a kind of snapshot created by God, a way of writing a story and recording history for us to find years later and wonder about in awe.
One summer my brothers, cousins and I came upon a whole beach full of really unique rocks… they were different sizes but they were all shaped exactly the same way. They were perfectly round and had a kind of spiral pattern on the top. They were large enough that I had to lift my knee to climb on top of some of them and we could curl up and lie on them. We jumped from one to the other and played on them all afternoon. We went back to camp and told our dad and uncle about the ‘neat’ rocks. We wanted them to see them so the next day they came with us. They both stopped dead in their tracks and they stood with their mouths agape, like they were in shock. What we were looking at was a beach full of giant, ‘pre-historic’, petrified snails. They found a local ranger to confirm it for them who added that they normally wouldn’t be visible but because the lake was really down that year, they were exposed in all their glory. That was one of the most surreal experiences of my life and what a blessing and gift that was to me to have experienced it at all. It almost felt like we were on sacred ground and that God was saying, ‘see, I am big and I am wonderful.’
I have learned since that Lake Texhoma was famous for harboring these kinds of petrified snails, of all sizes. Daddy found a smaller one, one that was about 1 foot in diameter and we brought it back home with us. Mama put it out in the front garden with the zinnias and marigolds and people came from all over the neighborhood to see it. It wasn’t long before it disappeared. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have it back now. And I can’t help but wonder who has that piece of God-inspired history and if they appreciate it as much as I did. I hope so.
2 comments:
So sweet! Truly there is nothing so lasting with us as the bits and pieces of life we get from the adults in our childhood. I remember things my dad told me about growing peach trees (we had all of two in our yard, be he had groves as a child himself).
My g'daughter brings in rocks and feathers and thing every time she is here; she's still doing it at age 11 and I hope she continues as long as your grandson...and longer for both of them. Childhood, I think, should last as long as they are still children, and should gently and slowly be replaced by adulthood!
What an amazing blessing you received when you discovered the petrified snails.
Grands are even more amazing blessings!
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