All I Got was a Bag of Rocks by Awara Fernandez
I sank down onto the bed, tears meandering down my face, the telephone receiver forgotten in my hand. My daughter and I had just traveled over 1000 miles, spending a small fortune on airfare, car rental, and hotel room, an extravagant investment in a desperate pilgrimage, and our journey had just come to an abrupt end. Our family had been trapped in an extended winter season, the unrelenting winds greying our souls and dimming our vision, so with the last of my strength I had thrown myself, and my daughter Amanda, forward into the wild pursuit of glory. Moses-like I had begged God for a glimpse of His glory, knowing that this balm, and only this balm, would heal us, because healthy humans are glory-hounds, seeking no glory for themselves but Glory Himself. I was hunting Big God-glory to fill the Big Empty in my soul, and whales are big. Which is why Amanda and I found ourselves in a sterile hotel room in New England, the wind howling outside, and silence howling inside as we absorbed the unwelcome news.
Because of the rough weather, there would be no whale-watching cruise for us.
Blindsided by another disappointment, I came up with a different plan for our day, and Amanda and I set out for the Atlantic coast, sightseeing along the way. We had lunch with a view of the ocean we longed to be sailing upon, we visited Plymouth Rock, and we crunched our way down to the water’s edge. I was still sighing when Amanda interrupted my thoughts saying, “Mom. We are like the Lady in ‘Perelandra.’ We came here seeking one thing, but God has given us another. How will we receive His gift?”
When our family was younger, we gathered together in the evenings for storytime. C. S. Lewis was among our favorite authors, and his “Space Trilogy” was right up our alley as science fiction lovers. “Ransom . . . Ransom . . .” I would whisper eerily as my daughters shivered at the haunting horror unfolding. In one of the clearest definitions of sin, I have ever come across, the Green Lady in “Perelandra,” who is sinless and struggling to understand the attraction of sin, imagines going out to pick and eat a specific fruit, but instead finding a different fruit than the one she had expected. She recognizes that she would then be faced with the choice of whether to be grateful or to grumble. She ponders, “If you wish. . . You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning to the good you had got.” Amanda was reminding me of this choice, encouraging me to set aside my own grumbling, to call my soul back from its wandering, and to receive the gift that God was giving that day.
We are from the South, where smooth, white sands frame the ocean waves, and we looked down at the rocky beach and saw that the small stones were a riot of colors, sparking in the sunlight. We began collecting the stones, choosing our favorite colors, purple for me, green for her, orange for my son-in-love, filling our pockets with small treasures, with Little God-glory.
I still have those purple stones displayed on my desk as a reminder of their peek-a-boo beauty. But, I felt that day a bit like Charlie Brown, who, while his friends were being given delightful treats, received only rocks. “All I got was a bag of rocks,” I echoed him in my soul. And, I resolved to ask the Father about this one day in the future when I see Him face to face, which is simply another way of saying that I was going to accuse Him of withholding good.
It was not until years later that I realized that God had not given me stones for whales.
What was on display that day was more glorious than rocks and fish.
It was my daughter’s heart.
The stones are good. God said so. They reflect Little God-glory.
And, whales are good, too. God said so. They reflect Big God-glory.
But humans are the crown of creation, and God declares us not just good, but Very Good.
I was in the presence of another great lady that day who was reflecting the image of her Creator, and this daughter of the King, radiant with the biggest God-Glory of all, was inviting me to receive with gratitude the gifts that winter brings. God had not abandoned me to the wilds of my soul, not then nor in the winter years that followed. He was right there beside me on that jagged shore filling my big empty with His big love which was peeking out through Amanda’s regal smile.
Awara lives in Georgia with her husband of 34 years and their rescue dog, Gonzo. They have 6 children and 7 grandchildren. You can read more of her writing on callapress.com and kosmeomag.com You can find her at facebook.com/awara.fernandez