"I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."
It started as a conversation about how glass is made.
5 of 8 was curious about the process, how we get that clear stuff that we turn into drinking vessels, Pyrex and windows.
I told him how glass is made from melting sand at a high, high heat. He was fascinated and enchanted that the stuff from the beach becomes the stuff in our kitchen cupboards.
He was relating this newly acquired knowledge about the etomology of glass to his daddy before dinner. I was listening to his discourse as I finished up some kitchen chores, his voice rising and falling in cadence to the magic he found in glass making. His daddy responded with the appropriate 'wow' and 'cool'.
And then Mike posed this question to 5 of 8: So if glass is made of sand, what is the sand made of?
5 of 8 pondered a moment and said, “Pieces of small stones!”
And then Mike posed this question: And what are small stones made of?
Again, 5 of 8 pondered a moment and said, “Pieces of bigger rocks!”
And then Mike posed this question: And what are the rocks made of?
5 of 8 quickly said, “Pieces of mountains!”
And then Mike posed this question: And what are the mountains made of?
5 of 8 answered, “Pieces of God.”
Yes they are.
When I take a moment, when I think about the process and the genius of creation, when I look at the amazing engineering of a tree, when I ponder the chemical composition of a star, I'm thinking on little pieces of Him. Bits of His imagination, spots of His artistry.
Little breadcrumbs to the infinity of His mind.
Glass, sand, pebbles, stones, rocks, mountains.
He has infused Himself into my every day and given me the senses to perceive His presence.
If I will only look.
Sometimes no further than the drinking glasses housed in the top rack of my dishwasher.