It was a rough day today. We all have them. I could barely hold myself together but I went to church anyway looking for some healing.
I’ve been subbing with the 5yos lately, and most weeks one of the boys shows me some rocks he keeps in his pocket. They’re mostly white quartz, about the size of my thumbnail. He’s a little shy and doesn’t talk much, but It’s clear they’re special to him. Today while the rest of the class was busy with an activity, he slipped across the room to where I was sitting, dropped one of the rocks in my hand, and scurried off — didn’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge me the rest of class.
If you don’t know, quartz is supposed to be a healing crystal. I do meditate and practice yoga, but I’m not much on chakras and energies. Today, however, I’m pretty sure that tiny chunk of quartz was imbued with some healing energy by a little boy’s thoughtfulness.
I know not everyone is into churches as an institution. Church makes me crazy sometimes, too. But there is straight up no other place where a person can go and have interactions of the type we have at church. It’s not always the Rock that heals. Sometimes it’s just a rock from a little boy’s pocket.
Sometimes I think I need a miracle, but what I really need is just a little genuine human interaction to remind me of my value and connectedness with the human family. Church is the best place I’ve found for mixing with people who are different from me, people who irritate and inspire, and little boys with their pockets full of rocks. I need them and their rocks. I need Church.