Betty Glaz
St. Clare of Assisi Writing Group (co-leader), St. John Henry Newman Writing Group
The rooster’s crowing wakes Ambrose, who quickly checks the weather through the window. The rising sun shines dimly through the fog after three days of rain. He turns on the coffee pot and begins to dress, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife. He decides he should wear boots for the muddy ground. Grabbing a mug of coffee and his John Deere ball cap, he walks toward the fields.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he thanks God that all the area farmers got their crops in the ground before the rain began. The corn is only about five inches high, but it looks healthy.
An unusual rock at the cornfield’s edge near the creek bank catches his eye. Water on the rock glistens like a halo from the rising red sun asserting itself through the fog. Ambrose picks it up, surprised by its heaviness. The rock is shaped like a boomerang, about four inches thick and the size of a dinner plate. Layers of brown ranging from the hue of mud to sand and even rust stripe the rock. Fossils on each side intrigue him. He rinses off most of the mud and dirt in the creek before returning to the farmhouse.
Irene sits at the kitchen table drinking coffee. “Oh, my goodness, what do you have? Let me put some newspapers on the table. I don’t want dirt with our supper tonight.”
“It’s a rock, Irene, and I’ve already rinsed it off. Can you hurry? It’s very heavy!”
Irene hurries to cover the table with newspapers, and Ambrose sets the rock down. He removes his boots and goes to the bedroom for another pair.
“I’m going to call Keith to come up and look at this,” Ambrose says while picking up the phone receiver.
Keith is one of Ambrose’s nephews, who, in his youth, had walked through the fields of all his relatives searching for arrowheads. He has a vast collection from the Shawnee, Wyandot, and Kickapoo tribes that once resided in southern Indiana. Throughout high school, Keith longed to be a priest and had studied for two years at the seminary in St. Meinrad before dropping out. His grandfather cried for three days when he was told about it. Undeterred, Keith went off to an upstate university and became a geologist.
Keith arrives that afternoon and parks at the weathered barn with the double doors open wide. His Uncle Ambrose and the rock await. He sees his uncle working on his tractor and yells out, “I’m here, Uncle Ambrose. Let’s look at that magical rock.”
The rock is on a work table near the open barn doors where the sun is shining on it. The glint of the sun makes the rock look like a dazzling fire.
“Oh, wow,” Keith says. “This is so cool. See all these different colored bands? I believe this is a metamorphic rock that came from the center of the earth. Pressure, heat, earthquakes, erosion, and soil pushed it up. It made a long journey.“
“How old do you think it is?”
“Oh, I have no idea. I’ll be happy to take it to my geologist friends at Marengo Cave. They have all kinds of fancy equipment. But I warn you! They may want to cut this rock in half to test it.”
“No, absolutely not! I don’t want half a rock.”
“Let me take it up there and see what they say. I promise not to cut the rock in half.”
Keith returns three hours later with the rock intact.
“No luck, eh?”
“Naw, like I told you, they wanted to cut the rock in half, so I guess it can be any age you want it to be.”
“Okay,” Ambrose laughs. “I’ll say it’s older than me.”
“I knew you would say that. As I was driving back, I did some thinking. This rock reminds me of life changes in a way. Babies are born and grow into adults, shaped by family, culture, and spiritual influences. Some resist peer pressure, while others pick up uncompromising excess baggage to carry for the remainder of their days. They are like pebbles in the creek that are swept away with every storm. This is a gift from God, Uncle Ambrose.”
“What do you mean, a gift from God?”
“Well, in all my years of walking these fields, I’ve never seen a rock like this. It’s called nice, spelled g-n-e-i-s-s. So, while it represents life changes, it’s also solid, like bedrock, never changing. It’s a paradox. The foundation of the Church is built upon the solid bedrock of God’s Truth and Saint Peter, the strongest materials in the universe.”
“Well, it seems to me that a rock like the Church, built upon Peter, can withstand time and the elements.”
“That’s right, Uncle Ambrose. Jesus said the gates of hell will not prevail against the Church. She retains memory and traditions just as these fossils are reminders of an earlier age.”
“How did you get to be so smart?”
“Well, I graduated from college, and I read a lot. I study a lot too. Don’t watch much television except for the news, just so I know what’s happening in this crazy world.”
“Like you, I don’t watch much television except for Judge Judy. I don’t read much except for newspapers. Oh, I read a bit of the Bible each night.”
“Good for you, Uncle Ambrose. Hang on to that rock; it might be worth something. What do you intend to do with it?”
“Oh, I haven’t thought about it. I might give it to one of my daughters.”
“Make it a family heirloom. I like that idea. Promise me that I can be in the room when they read your will so I can find out who inherits the rock,” he laughed. “I better get home before they send a posse out for me.”
“Thanks, Keith, for your help today. And for the good conversation.”
They shake hands, and Keith drives away.
The proud rooster welcomes the morning by crowing three times. Ambrose slowly moves out of bed and makes coffee. He realizes his elderly body is tired from walking the cornfield the previous day. Yet, thirty minutes later, he is slowly walking the soybean field. He thanks God that he’ll likely have a plentiful harvest in the fall. With his eyes upward, he sees a white-tailed hawk flying overhead.
“Gee whiz,” he thinks, “I’m awake, and I see the light of sunrise on this cloudless morning, watching the crops glisten with the morning dew. It’s wonderful to be alive, surrounded by these rolling hills. Thank you, God,” he prays, “for your creation and for allowing me to live this long life to see something new each day. I never thought a rock would bring me closer to You.”
Deeply touched, he makes the sign of the cross, as a tear escapes his eye.