It’s difficult to find things to be happy about right now.

The coronavirus is spreading like wildfire, the Texas Education Agency said kids will be going back to school in the fall even though there’s no vaccine or end to the pandemic – what about teachers, youngsters and staff who are in the danger range – and racism is alive and angry in our midst.

If I choose not to read or listen to the news, I’m a frustrated coward, ignoring the hateful bigotry in our country or the latest ridiculous plan legislators have to open the schools.

If I’m not cleaning my house, I feel lazy.

If I’m not exercising, I feel like a failure for the extra weight I’ve packed on while quarantining.

If I eat cookies, I feel bad about those who don’t have enough to eat.

And that doesn’t even begin to touch global warming, pollution or littering.

I walked around my house, telling myself I should clean something or gather up outgrown clothes to donate when things open up.

I straightened some pictures on the wall, and then I noticed them – the rocks.

There’s a dozen or so small rocks in a plastic basket on a table in the hall. It’s a collection of rocks I’ve gathered for years. I pass the box all the time, but today, I stopped and sorted through the stones.

I’ll admit to being a rock hound. With two geologist brothers, the interest comes naturally.

If there’s a rock pile on the side of the road and there’s time, I’ll pull over and rummage around because even the plainest rocks have their own quirks and beauty.

In some, it’s a ribbon of pink or red that runs through the center, or a well-worn spot that allows you to use the rock as a worry stone. I have a couple of heart-shaped rocks as well as one that looks like a car.

At the bottom of the box was a piece of quartz, a gift from a friend.

Sections of the quartz are clear, some are milky, and the pyramids fit together beautifully. I held the rock up to the light and was delighted to see something so simple reflect such beautiful light.

Digging through the box a bit more, I found one of my favorite rocks, one I’d forgotten I had – a geode.

The prettiest one I have looks like hardened mud on the outside, but there’s deep white and purple amethyst quartz crystals on the inside. They look like tiny diamonds inside that tough outer shell.

Another geode is polished, and the glassy browns, beiges and scarlets blend together seamlessly.

One afternoon when our grandchildren came to visit, they discovered the box. They thought the driftwood and some polished stones I picked up at a rock store were cool, but they fell in love with the geodes.

The thrill of finding a treasure inside a plain rock is one I wanted to share with them, so I bought a couple of geode kits.

They had a blast putting on the goggles, finding old socks to put the geodes in and choosing the biggest hammer in the workshop.

It took a while to figure out how to hold the sock without smashing their fingers and numerous blows with the hammer to get the geodes to open up.

But break apart they did, and the youngsters absolutely loved seeing the beauty that was hidden inside a plain rock.

There’s a lesson there, of course, that we shouldn’t judge anything or anyone by its outside appearance. Just because something is plain and ordinary on the outside, or even ugly, doesn’t mean you can’t discover true beauty inside.

The next time you’re on a lonely road, look for the rocks. Stop and rummage through the pile. As in life, you’ll find some plain stones, but remember while you’re looking, you’ve got hope. And in today’s world of doom and gloom, sparking a bit of hope is what we need.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.