Solid as a Rock

Michigan rocks.

Well, ok, yes it does.  It’s a great state, and I like it a lot.  As my ten-year-old daughter would say in her best Mutant Ninja Turtles voice, Michigan totally rocks, dude.

But that’s not what I meant.  I mean rocks.  From Michigan.

I’m a big fan.

Michigan rocks are a new thing to me.  Actually, all of Michigan is a new thing.  Our family moved up here over the summer, transplanting in from the wide open spaces of rural Illinois.  Six months later it’s still surprising to find ourselves here, surrounded by birch and evergreen and a big blue lake.

They fill my home now, Michigan rocks.  There’s the reading rock that keeps me company during my morning devotion.  And the cooking rock guarding the stove, and the walking rock waiting by the front door.  My driving rock hogs a cup holder next to the driver’s seat.  My coats are all stocked with pocket rocks, their thumb-shaped dips ready to be rubbed when my hands are restless.

My husband thinks I’m crazy.  Maybe he’s got a point. Maybe it’s not normal, in the middle of reading or driving or cooking, to reach for a rock.  But they bring me comfort.  There is something about the weight, the solidity, the inherent strength of a rock that is reassuring when life gets a little too tumultuous.

I’ve needed reassurance the last six months.  And solidity.  It’s hard, moving to a new home, a new state, a new life.  I like it here – no, I love it here.  Michigan rocks.  But still, there’s so much that’s new and different and strange.

It’s scary to be the new family.  It’s hard to look into the faces of your three children and your exhausted husband and know that you need to be their strength, their source of encouragement and comfort, when you yourself are still off-balance from the newness and strangeness of this new, strange life.

Somehow, holding onto a rock helps.

…....

As Mary held her tiny baby, still red and wrinkled, gazing up at her with the uncomprehending, fascinating eyes of a newborn, she must have felt all the exhilaration and terror of newness.  What a strange experience it must have been, holding on to this child, knowing who and what He was.  What an overwhelming responsibility was hers, this young girl, facing for the first time the whirlwind that is motherhood while having also the responsibility of being the mother of Him who was to be her Savior.

When life is tilting about you, it helps to know you’re holding onto a rock.

As she held my Jesus in her arms, I hope Mary found peace in the nearness of God’s love.  I hope she knew, amid the strangeness and newness of her turned-upside-down life, the comfort and strength of holding onto a rock – the Rock.

Life gets swirly sometimes.  We’ve got scary things to face, all of us.  Newness.  Oldness.  Hurtness.  Indecision.  Uncertainty.  How will the bills get paid?  How will I cope?  When will I be able to breathe again?

In the midst of the tumult, it helps to hold onto a Rock.

For who is God besides the Lord?  And who is the Rock except our God?  It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.  2 Samuel 22:32-33

Our Rock, our God who loves us, who gave His life for us, is strength.  He is solidity.  I need reassurance; I reach out my hand and run my fingers along the smooth contours of a rock fresh from the shores of Lake Huron.  I need reassurance; I reach out my heart in soundless prayer and in faith take hold of the rock-solid strength of my big, strong, certain, solid God.

And I remember, in that moment, that my big, strong, solid God is holding onto me.

My young son Jonah just came into the room and saw me gazing at my computer screen, my cheek pressed against a smooth black rock.  He rolled his eyes.  “So that’s your computer rock, I suppose?  Mama, that’s just weird.”

Weird it may be.  But I love my rocks.  I love this crazy life.  And I love being the child of a God who loves me enough to call me His . . . who invites me to hold on to Him in the midst of my every need.

I’ll get through this newness thing.  Until then, and forever after, I’ll be holding onto my Rock.

First published in the Alpena News, December 15, 2012