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My junior year in college was not an easy one. I wasn’t enjoying my studies, and my social life was a bit of a mess after I’d gone through a breakup that left me feeling confused and betrayed. When the school year ended, I was glad to leave for a summer study abroad program in Sweden. But the miles I’d traveled weren’t enough to help me let go of the swirl of emotions I was experiencing. My first journal entry in Sweden waxed on about how depressing it felt to be surrounded by such amazing history, culture, and natural beauty, while my head was still stuck in the messiness of my life back home.
One weekend, several of us in the program traveled by ship to Finland. I had tentative plans to meet extended family, though I wasn’t really sure about the how or where. During the trip over, I glanced out the window to see a huge island moving up and down. As you probably guessed, the island wasn’t moving, but we were. A storm had swept in and the surge was picking the boat up and tossing it around. A violent wave of nausea swept over me. I staggered into the hallway and asked my friend to help me to the bathroom.
As I stood against the back of the bathroom stall, breathing deeply, I opened my thought to God and asked, “What do I need to know here?” A simple word came softly to my thought: rock. This was not at all the “high and mighty, healing truth” I was looking for, so I brushed it aside and asked again. This time the word was not so soft, and my thought was filled with the word rock!
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