Never knew what that word ebenezer meant even though I've sung it all my life. It's in the 2nd verse of "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." Of course I never even thought to look it up. A couple of years ago a friend of mine told me that ebenezers are the rock alters that the Israelites built to God. They were signs to remind them later of God's mighty act in that particular place.
Today I raised an ebenezer. Not to God. But I cleaned out my garden in the back. It was full of rocks that my ex, the kids and I have collected. Most of it was rock that my ex picked up from a rock collector who wanted to be rid of them. I love rocks. All sorts of rocks. I love the line from "A River Runs Through It." "Under the river are rocks from the basement of time, and under the rocks are voices, and some of the voices are theirs." Anyway, the rocks my ex collected were mostly little, pretty rocks. They of course had to be displayed all around the gardens. These little rocks did nothing for the landscape. They just looked odd, placed there haphazardly. Kind of like so many things in my marriage: haphazard, out of place, looking chaotic. So today I started pulling them out of my gardens. I called my ex and asked him if he wants them. He said he did, so I started building my ebenezer, a damn pile of rocks in the middle of the walkway. With each rock I threw on the pile, I thought about the years of living in that chaos. I remembered. Like the ancient ebenezers, I remembered. Not grace and founts of blessing, but pain. It felt good to pull these rocks out of my life and pile them up to be carted away. Each rock represented some sort of chaos and pain. Each rock was removed from my life, and hopefully will never return. As I piled those rocks the old song rang through my mind. (A great gift from my mother is that I recall old songs for just about every occasion.)
"Sorrowing I shall be in spirit, Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit, Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer; Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home."
Now I don't really believe all that, but it did raise my spirits. I thought, wouldn't it be great to come to the end of this pain and be able to say, "Here by Thy great help I've come." Maybe I'm not a total cynic. Maybe I am. It just feels good to have some hope. It feels good to think that maybe there is a god.
Today I raised an ebenezer. Not to God. But I cleaned out my garden in the back. It was full of rocks that my ex, the kids and I have collected. Most of it was rock that my ex picked up from a rock collector who wanted to be rid of them. I love rocks. All sorts of rocks. I love the line from "A River Runs Through It." "Under the river are rocks from the basement of time, and under the rocks are voices, and some of the voices are theirs." Anyway, the rocks my ex collected were mostly little, pretty rocks. They of course had to be displayed all around the gardens. These little rocks did nothing for the landscape. They just looked odd, placed there haphazardly. Kind of like so many things in my marriage: haphazard, out of place, looking chaotic. So today I started pulling them out of my gardens. I called my ex and asked him if he wants them. He said he did, so I started building my ebenezer, a damn pile of rocks in the middle of the walkway. With each rock I threw on the pile, I thought about the years of living in that chaos. I remembered. Like the ancient ebenezers, I remembered. Not grace and founts of blessing, but pain. It felt good to pull these rocks out of my life and pile them up to be carted away. Each rock represented some sort of chaos and pain. Each rock was removed from my life, and hopefully will never return. As I piled those rocks the old song rang through my mind. (A great gift from my mother is that I recall old songs for just about every occasion.)
"Sorrowing I shall be in spirit, Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit, Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer; Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home."
Now I don't really believe all that, but it did raise my spirits. I thought, wouldn't it be great to come to the end of this pain and be able to say, "Here by Thy great help I've come." Maybe I'm not a total cynic. Maybe I am. It just feels good to have some hope. It feels good to think that maybe there is a god.
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