Treasured Rocks

The tangled mess lay on my dining room table like a sloppy plate of spaghetti. T-shirts, sweatshirts, flannels, belts, a couple of baseball caps, pants, shorts, jackets, thermals, boxers, shoes, socks. Lots and lots of socks. Piece by piece, I folded, sorted, and stacked. Each item held a flood of memories. He wore that sweatshirt last Christmas. That flannel was a favorite when he went camping. The faded 49er cap was a staple in his wardrobe. The eclectic collection of t-shirts came from all sorts of places and events. Some were gifts, others souvenirs from trips we’d taken, bands he liked, a couple from Chico State. I moved on to long-sleeved shirts. I never realized how much he liked plaid. He especially liked soft things. From the time he was little, he was drawn to soft fabrics. His grandma loves to tell the story of how she took him shopping at the fabric store to pick up material to make him some pajamas. He walked around touching each and every option until he found the softest sky blue piece of fabric in the place. They were his favorite pajamas until they became high waters. Yep, Adam was a softie at heart.

Meanwhile, my heart was growing heavier and heavier by the minute. This task was so much harder than I’d imagined! What made me think I could do this? It was a quiet, peaceful Sunday. Don was off teaching a sailing class, so it was just me and the pile. Lauren Daigle radio played on Pandora in the background – song after song filled with deep, soulful words. Words about faith and hope and eternity.

I ran my hands over each article of clothing and checked the pockets before folding, just to be safe. Nothing. Then I came across a Levi leather jacket. I’d seen him wear that coat to the office when he was all dressed up. As I unsnapped the front pocket, I felt something hard. It was a rock. A simple one-inch stone from who knows where. Why he kept it in his pocket, I have no idea. But just as I pulled it out, a song came on the radio that made me weep. “Do It Again,” by Elevation Worship was my anthem for Adam during all of 2018. I even asked our worship leader, Shirley, to learn the song so that we could sing it at church (which she did).

As I pulled out the rock, I immediately thought of Adam’s love of the outdoors, and his free spirit. I felt like he was saying, “Hi mom, don’t worry. I’m okay. Better than okay.”

Needless to say, I’m saving the rock. I put it on the bookshelf next to another treasured rock. That rock has only one word painted on it: HOPE. My friend, Mary, gave it to me the week Adam died. It was the word I needed that day and every day since he left. In his note to the family, he said, “I hope to see you again.” That was the one word I’d been holding onto that terrible, horrible week. So when Mary showed up and gave me the rock, I knew it was a gift from God. He was reminding me that He’s got this. He’s got me. And He’s got my son wrapped safely in His arms.

“And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you.” (Psalm 39:7)