Haiti 2- The Rock

The night was clear and the concrete abode we were staying in was sweltering. A layer of dust that comes to visit us every night swirled through the windows. I stepped outside with fold-up chair in hand to sit amidst an arid compound filled with broken rocks and some sparsely spread thorny trees. Jumbled jibberish blared in the nearby city and it slowly seeped out into the countryside. I looked up and found a release in a song seemingly sung by the stars themselves up above. I breathe deeply and sit back in my chair to let thoughts go…or come.

Leaning forward I pick up a fragment of a rock that is before me and start to just look closely at it. This particular piece of rock had some chunks of cement in it and a few fragments of other things in it. I glanced up and surveyed the rest of the rocks that lay strewn about with their jagged pieces jutting out. Some were small and some were big. Some were smooth and some rough. Some were in clumps or piles and others just sat alone. All were dirty and all were broken.

My thoughts returned to the one that I held in my hand and the question that formed in my mind was “what makes this rock special?” Without hesitation, the response was “I chose it.” Out of all the rocks that I could have picked that night, I chose that one and that was why it was special…I sat and pondered for awhile and realized that this rock had purposes only when it was in my hand and in my hand it could be used to rebuild, break down, protect or even be used as a weapon…