A few years ago, all the stuff that was going on in my life was becoming a great shame. I was attempting to raise 3 kids with very different needs, and I felt like I was failing. During one of our periods of absence from church, I received a rock in the mail from a minister at First Church. It was a “prayer rock,” her note explained. They had given them out in church on Sunday, and she thought I should have one. She said I could carry it on my person, and whenever I held it, or was even just aware of its presence, it would remind me that I was loved by God and my church family. This arrived on a particularly difficult day, when I felt distinctly alone, and my heart was especially broken. I was in desperate need of a clue that things just might be better someday.

On this day, this one rock reminded me that I wasn't alone. That I could hazard to have hope. That Despite my doubts, I had never lost faith; I’d just forgotten how it works. I started to see how God was showing Herself to me in all these tiny but significant expressions of love. And though I couldn't seem to get it together to get there very often, it was like my church was saying, "It's cool. We'll wait..." And they did. Despite my deeply imperfect membership in this community, First Church’s love for me has been perfect for me.