Smiley Rock

Hundreds of years from now, a team of archeologists will dig around and unearth this particular painted rock. Speculation will take place as to exactly what they have found, and confusion will reign as they try to determine how one of the earliest works of a young Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci would be discovered in rural Georgia, as opposed to Italy. I'm sure an intense scholarly debate will ensue, and someone will get a PhD out of solving the mystery.

This thing is actually much rarer than a Michelangelo or da Vinci. Notice I said rarer, not more valuable. It's completely worthless, displaying absolutely no artistic ability, but it is truly one of a kind in that I believe it is the only piece of "artwork" remaining from my school years. The rest got rightfully tossed shortly after I brought them home.

It was a toss-up whether I was worse at music or art. As to music, one of the reasons I'm a preacher is that no one wants to sit close enough to hear me singing in church. As to art, well, you see it. I painted a rock red and put the popular Smiley Face in the middle of it. A complete lack of creativity and originality, and the eyes aren't the same size, the head is lopsided, and the mouth is uneven. Pretty good, though, for a four-year-old.

Except I wasn't four. I wasn't even in fourth grade. No, that, my friends, is the work of an 8th grader, of a 14-year-old boy. And I haven't improved since.

So, how did this masterpiece survive? Well, it's a rock, for one thing, so it has a little permanence inherent to it. And, it actually has performed a useful function through the years. My mother tossed it on the floor and used it as a doorstop until I got married and moved out. I think I was ordered to take it with me, and we've continued to put it to use. Somehow or another, it's never gotten lost in our moves. That's a sure testament to my wife's grace. A whole lot of women would have left that puppy behind when the moving truck pulled out of the driveway.

But there's also a story behind that rock. Some sort of a lump or a shadow-something suspicious-had shown up on my mother's breast scan. Daddy took her for an exploratory procedure of some sort. Likely, today they would do more imaging, and no incision would be involved, but this was almost 50 years ago. No matter how much my parents tried to downplay it, I knew stuff like this potentially involved the word cancer. So, I was worried sick.

Ultimately, the procedure showed it was nothing more than a "fold" or "bump" in the tissue, sort of like, they said, Stone Mountain being an irregularity on the earth's surface. I painted the Smiley Face rock either the day of the procedure, or the day after, I'm not sure which, but it has forever been connected to receiving that good news.

It's been at our door when we brought two baby boys home. The rock kept smiling when we've experienced the loss of parents, grandparents, and beloved church members and friends. It watched those boys graduate from school and get married, and now it welcomes grandchildren into our home. Presidential elections, tornado warnings, the Braves winning a World Series-you name it, for 50 years my Smiley Rock has seen us through it.

It might not be a Michelangelo, or a da Vinci, but my rock's been a constant reminder of God's presence in every moment of life. I look down at it and I can't help but smile back. After all, that crooked grin reminds me that God's with me no matter where, no matter what.