The remembering stone

I was sorting through a box of pictures and postcards last night and found a note I wrote several years ago. In 2012, right around the time I was coming off a fifteen month long stint on antibiotics, my mum invited some friends, a married couple, to stay over at our place for a week or so. Over the previous months, my mum had told them about my chronic osteomyelitis, surgery, PICC line and how difficult things were for me as a result. The gentleman who stayed with us wanted to give me something in order to help and make things a little bit better. Given everything I had been through with the bone infection, receiving something that would make things better was no small feat. So I was quite surprised when he handed me a small, smooth black stone. "What is so significant about a stone that can make things better?"

The gentleman explained that he had been carrying the stone in his pocket wherever he went the entire week before coming over to visit, filling it full of warmth and kindness. He himself also had a stone (he showed it to me, it was whitish-grey). But it was more than just a stone, if stones can be anything more than what they appear to be. Every time he faced a daunting challenge or felt down or in despair, he would pick up his stone and recite ten positive things in his life to himself. Doing so did not minimize his feelings or dismiss what he was going through, but helped him to remember the positive aspect of things, like a ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds. He then said that I could have the stone he had chosen for me on the condition that I make my own list.

I thought of the things in my life that I thought were most worth remembering and in doing so did indeed keep my end of the bargain. For a time I even carried it, along with the stone, with me wherever I went in a tiny little bag. But after a while, the list was set aside and for all intents and purposes forgotten. That is, until last night.

I had forgotten about the list so utterly and completely that it took me a moment to figure out what exactly I was reading. What I read made me want to cry. Here is what was written on the note paper:

"I should remember (that):
1) My family loves me.
2) My room is my sanctuary.
3) No matter what, I am still o.k.
4) Goodness lies within us, no matter how much we doubt it.
5) I am no longer ill - I beat chronic osteomyelitis!
6) It is normal to not always be happy.
7) Early morning and late night bus rides with a good book.
8) Elephants exist.
9) Memories and the world inside my head.
10) Being alone does not mean being lonely.

Number five jumped out to me. I hardly think I need to explain why. The relapse of the bone infection is one of, if not the most difficult things in my life. Beating it the first time was, in my book, the ultimate accomplishment - not something big, worthy of praise, attention and applause, but something incredibly personal and solitary. Reading the list all these years later made me want to cry and smile at the same time. It made me want to mourn all that I have lost or purposefully let pass me by because of the infection. Yet it also reminded me that there is always something positive and encouraging, no matter how little, to fall back on. My family loves and supports me every step of the way; my room is my sanctuary now more than ever before; it is so incredibly important to know that you don't have to be all happiness and smiles and rainbows all the time. So I am sitting here three years later and I wouldn't change a thing on my list.

The thing is that even though I completely forgot about the list, I have carried that stone around in either my purse or my pocket almost everywhere I have been in the three plus years since I got it. I can not to tell you how many times I have pulled it out and let its cold hardness soak into my palm as I squeezed it in my hand and let my fingers run over its smooth surface. Every time I held it, placed it in my pocket, or so much as simply thought about it sitting in my purse, I remembered the man who gave me the stone and the kindness and good intentions he put into it, the thought behind the action itself. And I am reminded that everything will be o.k.

I do not believe that any inanimate object, like a stone, can have an inner quality that influences people or imbues them with good qualities like compassion or honesty. Nor do I believe that such objects can provide one with protection or good health. I do believe, however, that an object can become as significant and valuable as a person desires or needs it to be. If a stone becomes the tangible thing that connects a person with positive ideas or helps people remember what is important to them, than that can only be a good thing.

And in this case, it is not so much remembering ten things that are important to me or holding something that embodies a desirable quality that makes this stone significant to me, but remembering the loving intent of the individual who gave it to me. That somethings as simple as the gift of a stone can have such an influence is incredible. It is not about the object itself, but about the thought and kindness, all the good intentions behind it. And on top of that, solely regarding my current situation, the note I found is a source of encouragement and reassurance. It will be going up on the cork board above my desk. Hopefully number five will be true again one day, once my new bone has finished growing and we know for sure that it is infection free.