This is personal. I never share my personal life on social media...
I learn more every day from some of the most unlikely sources. And every day I am constantly reminded of nature's beauty and grace, and how God blesses us. sometimes mysteriously. This may be a long post. But I feel it will be worth the read. I Hope that it reaches down into your soul. And that your takeaway is as profound and impactful as it was to me.
Today I went to the flea market. For many reasons. One, my wife suggested it would be a great opportunity to showcase all the hard work and effort I have put into my products. Also, to gauge customer interest.
I am not a salesman, far from it. But what I am is passionate about the outdoors and sharing that with people. I don’t talk much (In fact you may say I have an RBF that sometimes is confused with angry or mad) 99% of the time it is not I’m actually happy lol.
As I was talking to a customer a young man maybe 13 years old comes up and is intently looking at some of the flint I have “mined”.
He never makes eye contact, his shoes are worn, and he seems very hesitant, almost oddly so. He picks up a rock and studies it, intently for several minutes, patiently waiting for me to finish talking to an older couple.
They leave and he musters up the courage to ask, “Is this flint?” I reply with my non-RBF, yes, it is. And I (in my pea size brain and lack of social skills myself) recognize something deep down… something that is missing in every one of our lives, every day.
Wonder, Amazement, Beauty, in the palm of his hand he stares at it. Deeply he stares at the beautiful shades of red, how the chalcedony quartz veins run through it. He feels how sharp the edges are, how rough and smooth all at the same time.
And I see a change in him. A slight smile, recognition of beauty and strength from within.
He sets the rock down and smiles and walks away, in the walk of an awkward preteen who maybe life hasn’t been to kind to…or maybe it has?
Minutes pass by and the wind picks up, it is blowing harder and harder, neighboring displays are falling and scattering in the wind. Another gentleman stops by my makeshift booth, the booth that I now consider holding part of my future dreams and ambitions. (we all start journeys in unlikely places) and we are discussing what old men do on a early spring Saturday morning.
The boy comes back… and he is holding a rock... excitedly he sticks his arm out and in his hand is… a rock… not just any rock… but a piece of flint. There is a sticker on it from some long-ago peddler here at the flea market. It is dusty and faded. Not a pretty rock by any means. But it is flint… and he asks, “is this flint?” This time he is a little more confident, a little more “manly”. He has done what nobody else here today has done. He brought me a rock! And I identified it as the same thing I have sitting in old postal boxes in front us.
He smiles and this time doesn’t just turn around and walk away. He almost scampers off...
Minutes go by, people come and go, I do my best to be that engaging “salesman” to hide my natural RBF. It isn’t too hard for some reason, and I don’t know why?
The gentleman from earlier saunters back through, clearly on his way to leave and stops to chat some more. A really nice old man, talking to a guy who communicates better to trees than humans. And here he comes again.. this young boy.
This time he has a cardboard box full of rocks!! All different sizes, shapes, colors and textures.
His arms extend out with this box, and he looks me square in the eye, because that’s how men talk to each other at the flea market now. And asks… is this flint?
We go through every rock in that box, and I mansplain every… single… one... what it is, how it was made, I talked about those rocks like my life depended on it. There were bits and pieces of knowledge that I had forgotten about that just burst to my tongue.
Finally, the young man, no longer a boy… smiles and walks away. His shoulders back, head up…he just walks away. No words spoken just a silent acknowledgement that he too can find beauty and strength in this world. That he isn’t alone, and that somebody does care…. about rocks….
The old man is still standing by my side. He slowly looks at me. Raises a hand to my shoulder and says, “you
made a difference in that young man’s life today” and walks away.
Strangers are only strangers until you share something together. Today I was taken back to a much earlier time in my life, where a rock was much more than… a rock.
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