Vases of Beautiful Rocks
By Heather Enright

“What on earth is THAT?” my friend Amy asked when she entered my kitchen. I looked to where she was pointing; realizing that my row of rock-filled vases along the windowsill had caught her eye. I had to remind myself that not every person has a row of ten or so little vases, filled to the brim with water – and rocks. “That, my friend, is my treasure! Some Mamas get flowers, I get rocks,” I explained.

My son, Cooper, loves to collect rocks. This is perhaps a rather typical practice for little boys. But, imaginative and creative, Cooper insists on filling up my little bud vases with water, and then placing the rocks in the water–just as you would a beautiful rose, or even a hand-picked dandelion bouquet. By the way, I do get those, too–usually with all the little white blooms long since blown away.

Collin, my older son, has a newfound fascination with wood chips. I’m not quite sure what prompted this, but it began about a year ago, and is still going strong. He presented his Mimi with a baggie full of wood chips at her last birthday, and sheepishly explained, “I picked these up just for you.” And, like any good grandma, Mimi marveled at her treasure and profusely thanked her grandson as she proudly took them home. Then, just this week, I found the top pocket of Collin’s back pack filled to the brim with wood chips from the school play ground.

Not a week goes by that I don’t pick out some wood chip, bottle cap or rock from my dryer – clean as can be – long forgotten in the boys’ pants pockets. As a rookie mom, I was at first perplexed and even annoyed by these habits. Now, when I look at those rock filled vases, I remember that my children love me without condition. Their love is indescribable, overwhelming and so intense it brings me humbly to tears. Cooper recently reassured me of his unconditional love when he said, “I love you, Mommy, even when you are mean and tell me no.”

The vases of beautiful rocks have also come to represent something else to me. I am but a common object, and at times, I feel quite useless–like a pebble that just floats in the water. But, where the world might see “just a rock,” the Lord sees a treasure. To him, I am as beautiful as the most exquisite rose – worthy of being placed in a windowsill for all the world to see.