Stones

I was down on the beach this evening, collecting tiny pebbles. I was looking for a certain size, but it didn't matter what colour. A certain shape, too – I wanted proper, well rounded beach pebbles. The kind that LOOK like pebbles.

The trouble was, there were too many of the other kind. Some with sharp edges, which haven't yet been properly rounded by the rough and tumble of the waves. I often feel like one of those.

Then there were the odd shapes – they didn't look right, didn't fit in. That's me as well, sometimes.

Then one caught my eye. It was a perfect heart shape of pale rock.

Damaged. A large chip had been taken out of one of its lobes, and there was an ugly crack running right across it. It looked extremely frail and fragile.

Yet, in my fingers, it was indeed rock hard. The crack was purely superficial.

Hearts – feelings - are wounded, but they do not truly break. We still live, even if we are in emotional pain.

This tiny chip of granite reminds me of that truth.