Rocks and I have a love-hate relationship.
I don't like rocks in my shoes.
I don't like loose rocks on a road where I'm bicycling.
I especially don't like rocks in a cabbage field.
At age 14, I started working, during the summer months, on my family's farm. My sister was three years older then me, and I wanted to do what she did. We were part of the "cabbage department." We pulled and boxed cabbage seedlings to plant, we planted them in the fields, and we helped to harvest them before we had to head back to school in the fall. It was a hard job with very long hours, but I will never regret it because I learned a lot about farming, hard work, nature, and life in general.
What I absolutely hated and detested with a passion was picking rocks in a field before we planted the cabbage. Imagine walking behind a tractor with a wagon picking up rocks and throwing them on the wagon in the summer heat wearing long jeans. I always wondered why God put rocks in the soil when all we did all day was take them out of the soil to plant the cabbage seedlings. It unnerved me especially when your father was driving the tractor yelling, "Pick up the pace, Megan." He knew clearly my hate relationship with rocks.
Maybe God did this so that I could learn to have an appreciation for them. They can be chiseled, washed and smoothed to become very pretty pebbles that can be used for pebble art. And now, I use these same "rocks" as my main material in pebble art in which I create customized frames for clients.
I now LOVE rocks.
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