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The Records of Our Better Nature
"Why Dads Teach Their Boys to Skip Rocks"
By Rev. Paul V. Scholl
It was an early morning in November of 1965 on an inlet in the northeastern
Chesapeake Bay. A father, in his mid-thirties, was walking with his son
of six. Every morning for the last year and a half the two had gotten
up just after sunrise to take this walk together, just to play and be
in the heart of nature living just outside their front door.
Something was changing the last few weeks though, as Dad had begun to
hear something different in the questions coming from his son. They were
more inquisitive and often related to his dreams from the nights before.
Today was going to prove to be an important lesson for both.
In just a few minutes they found themselves coming to the end of their
creek and almost to the mouth of the river. The young boy bent over and
picked up a rock, looked at it for a moment, then threw it into the creek
bed. They walked a little farther, reaching the river. Dad picked up a
rock, looked at it for a few moments saying "Good rock", then
skipped it a dozen times across the water. The young boy just giggled.
They stood there a little while longer until the boy asked "Dad,
how does the water know where to go?" Smiling, pondering his reply
for only seconds, he said "Son, each drop of water follows the drop
that went before it. When the world began the very first drop of water
knew where it was going. Since then, every other drop knew it was best
to follow first, then lead the drops that would come behind it. That's
what gives us creeks and rivers that become oceans."
"Really? Then dad, tell me how do the trees know how to grow."
The boy's father could see he was going challenge him with a bigger picture,
one question at a time. "Well son, in each tree and plant on the
earth are seeds or seedlings that remember what it was like to be part
of the tree or plant they came from. When they fall away as a new seed
with a chance to grow on their own they use what they remember. Then they
grow up fast and strong knowing that they have to teach the same things
to their seedlings. Next thing you know you have either a forest or a
garden."
As the young boy leaned over and picked up another rock, it all seemed
to make sense. Then he asked "Dad, tell me the truth. Where does
the wind come from?" He then threw the rock a little farther out
into the river, then turned for his answer. "I see the winds as being
the voice of God. You never really see it coming, you never really know
where it is going, but you always know at some point in the day that it
will there. When it does it says hello to everything. It says hello to
the river, the trees, to the rocks on the shore. It gives everything a
reason to be alive."
The boy's father thought that would probably be it for the questions for
the day, but the boy's interest was only just starting to build. "O.K.
Dad, so why doesn't the river stop when it hits a rock, or the wind stop
when it hits the mountains?" Dad reflected for a moment, picked up
another rock, saying "Good rock", then skipped it a dozen times
across the water. "Son, I really love answering your questions."
After a short pause he said "Even though they are the strongest,
they rocks and the mountains know it is important for them to know when
to let the rivers run by, and to let the wind blow around or over them.
They know they are there to make it safe for the water to become creeks
that will lead to oceans and the ground safe for the trees seedlings to
grow. They know they are there to help the others so they get a chance
to feel the winds blow everyday."
The young boy picked up another rock, and held it. He asked "How
do they know that, Dad?"
With soft eyes, the boy's father looked in admiration at him. What a challenging
gift he had been his entire life. And now the truths were being laid.
"Well young man, inside every rock lies the truth of everything it
has ever experienced. It remembers every drop of water that has passed
by, every breeze that has blown, every tree that gave it shade. It remembers
what mountain it rolled down from and what boys have picked it up and
thrown it into the water. Each rock remembers everything." Surprised,
the boy made a funny face at his father and asked "Why do we throw
them into the water then? Do they like it?" "Oh yes! Said his
father, "They love it!" He then leaned down, picked up another
rock, and together they threw their rocks into the water just a few feet
apart.
"Son, every time we skip a rock across the water each drop kisses
the rock as it goes by, and the rock kisses back. Together they are remembering
all the beautiful things they have shared in creating their world around
them. And the best thing, the rock gets to feel the wind, kind of like
when you feel the wind in your hair. Then, when the rock gets to the bottom
of the river it gets to tell all the other drops of water all the stories
it knows about all the other drops that have passed by too." Thinking
of what to add to this answer to provide a more lasting impression the
father continued, "And the important thing to learn as you grow up
is how to throw rocks so they kiss the water more. You'll learn that we
don't throw rocks for us, we throw them for the joy of remembering it
brings to the rocks."
A few moments passed and it was almost time to turn around and head home.
If they didn't leave soon the boy would be late for school. But he had
one more question. "Dad, why do people forget to have fun throwing
rocks?" And in the memory of what he had learned some thirty years
before, he replied "Sometimes the rocks remind people where they
came from. Throwing them would show them just where it is they are supposed
to be going. A lot of people just don't want to know. They forget that
there is real treasure in knowing each step you've taken, everything you've
experienced in life, everything you've shared with others. When there's
no treasuring the things you've experienced, good or not so good, there's
always trouble trying to figure things out. If you don't look where you've
come from how will you ever know where you're going? Or worse, what will
you do when you get there?"
With that, the father bent down and picked up two flat rocks, handing
one to his son. The young boy smiled, then they both turned to the river,
and together they skipped rocks.
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