December 4 – “Metamorphicsis”

We were enlisted to pick up Cailyn from school yesterday.  Nathan and April were both off, but as it happened, off in more ways than one.  They had made a trip into Texas and we were their back-ups in case they couldn’t get back across the causeway in time.  Just one of those little extra precautions one has to take when you make the journey into that other land. 

When she finally got outside she had one sock on and was carrying her shoes.  Her teacher, the normally unflappable Mrs. Mack, seemed a bit flustered.  In fact she had a mismatched shoe or two in her hands as well.  The candidate for People’s Choice Teacher of the Year (and deservedly so) came right over to us and explained that they had done some kind of activity that necessitated being shoeless, and they had simply run out of time to get all of the children re-shod.  Made sense to me that Cailyn was one of the shoeless wonders.  Even though she let me help her get them on, they were back off within minutes of us arriving at the playground.  Something about the feel of tiny little rocks on your bare feet, I guess.

Speaking of tiny little rocks, we became suspicious that rocks just might have been on the agenda as a teaching topic at school yesterday.  We were waiting on the bench nearby as she frolicked with one of the little boys at the swingsets.  Yes, Nathan, it’s the same little guy she meets up with pretty much every time we go over there.  Think it might develop into something more in … say … ten or twelve years?  Well, she managed to break away from the youngster and raced over to us with a handful of … (Aw.  I thought I could raise the suspense level with a dramatic pause.  After all, I raised three boys, and we do have six grand-boys.  You never know what marvel of nature they might place in an outstretched hand.  But this was our sweet, feminine Caiyln) … rocks.  You know, those tiny little rocks that some scientist said would be an adequate surface to break the falls of young children as they climb like monkeys atop jungle gyms and leap from the top of the slide instead of waiting a turn to descend the traditional way. 

Rocks.  I didn’t even attempt to count them.  She dropped them on her open homework folder and excitedly began our grandparent lesson for the day.  In her decidedly practiced, best Mrs. Mack teacher voice, she began: “See?  This one is sandstone.  This one is limestone.  And see this one here?  It has two minerals in it.”

Boy, was I ever feeling stupid.  I never heard that kind stuff until high school, I’m sure.  Well, unless you count the times I overheard my big brother doing some homework or something during his pre-geology degree days.  Not that I ever eavesdropped on him or anything little-brother-ish like that. 
The final tiny rock explanation really solidified my ignorance, though: “And this one is metamorphicsis.” 

OK.  Metamorphicsis.  I still don’t remember that one.  Even from college. 

Luke 19:39-40 says, “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples!’

‘I tell you,’ he replied, ‘if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.’”

Father, thank you for the variety and beauty even of your tiny little rocks.  It would certainly be a sight to behold for all of them to cry out your glory.  Amen.