A Boy And The Rock


Many years ago there was a shy little boy who was struggling to find his way in the world. He was a tall skinny boy who wasn't one of the popular kids in school. As kids are known to do, this boy was teased and picked on all throughout his formative years. With cries of toothpick and stick among the nicknames he heard often, this boy often wondered why he was made to endure this kind of teasing. Where could he find solace and refuge?

His solace and refuge became a big rock underneath an old oak tree in a field across from where he lived. On a beautiful day during the school year you would find him on that rock having a long chat with God. They would chat, or should I say, the little boy would chat and God would listen. The boy would ask why God made him this way and what his purpose was in this world. That boy never received any audible answers but he felt the presence of God as he talked and cast his cares and worries upon that rock. That boy was reminded of a verse in the book of Isaiah.

"Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have graven you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me." Isaiah 49:15-16 

This verse comforted him. He always knew that no matter what trials and tribulations he endured in life that his name was on the palms of God's hands.


That little boy was myself many moons ago. Those that know me now may find it hard to fathom that I was shy and timid. I have become quite opinionated and someone who fights for freedom and liberty. Much of who I am today comes from that little boy and his childhood experiences. That rock still sits under that old oak tree in that open field. My mind still goes back there often even though I am miles away physically. That rock is still my solace and refuge. To this day I carry a rock in my pocket to remind me of God and our chats.

After the Parkland, Florida shooting I began to ponder how things may have ended differently had Nikolas Cruz had a rock, an old oak tree, two loving parents, and God to talk with. We will never know but I dare say his life would have not found him entering that school to kill former students and teachers. My heart aches at the vast number of broken homes in our republic today. Too many kids are lacking that love and guidance from home and a foundation built on the rock of God. As much as I was picked on and teased throughout my childhood I never once thought of killing my fellow classmates. I found a constructive way to cast my fears and worries. I found a rock, an old oak tree, and God.


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