What does it mean when seven heart shaped rocks buy happiness?

The day bleeds hot but Jack has a closing- his first oil or gas acquisition in over two years. This means he is about to embark on employment that may allow him to leave volunteer work for the industry behind and generate a pay check.

He leaves before I am finished with my morning pages, so I call to wish him luck. I know he wants me to pray that there are no delays. His determination only goes so far. In the end, it's all about trust.

The best way I know to pray is to walk the open space. I find God in majestic Ponderosa Pine battling beetle rot beside rutted roads where neighborhood children build jumps for mountain bikes. I find God in the distant Rocky Mountain upthrust and delicate warble of a lark bunting.

So I go to the Hundred Acre Wood, with Finnegan running from shade patch to shade patch and Lorraine trotting beside me. Within a hundred feet, I spot my first heart shaped rock.

I meant to replenish my store of heart shaped rocks last week. We had guests for a barbecue on the porch and a slight wind threatened my napkins. It would have been fun to stabilize them with heart shaped rocks, but I could not find four.

I tend to place them on the grave of Herschel our beloved schnauzer who died on election day two years ago. I do not like to remove these rocks, as I gather them in memory of this wise master practitioner of love.

Last Friday, I visited a dear friend dying of kidney cancer and brought him a smooth white heart shaped rock. He and I live in ideas; we share stories of miraculous serendipity reflecting the presence of God.

Heart shaped rocks are concrete.  I pick up an obvious one. It is even red.

Some days I go to the open space and I do not see one rock in the shape of a valentine. Light and shadow do not tweak any curves or cracks to create even the appearance of such a heart.

Some days I am oblivious to whether they exist. I plod along, shadowed in thought. Birds argue; exquisite blossoms blend with grass. Pike's Peak furrows its brow in fog and Finnegan finds a grumpy dog who snarls as his owner admonishes my pup without a leash.

Today heart shaped rocks are numerous. All of the gods from Odin to Abwoon to Kwan Yen and Yahweh smile upon the rocks before me, bouncing sunshine and cool shadow at angles to display triangulation. Even small rocks bear witness. They long to bounce in my khaki shorts pocket.

I smile at a rough stone and gather instead this little one, reflecting light.

Heart shaped rocks appear regular enough for me to be selective. I avert my gaze toward swaying wildflowers of yellow and lavender. I have been told lavender grows well in arid lands like Colorado, under full sun. Fields of lavender are cropping up all over my state. I wonder if I could dig a field in my backyard, to replace sparse grass?

In the Middle Ages, it is said, lavender was an herb for love. It quiets coughs and soothes the stomach and even disinfects wounds; it must be an herb for the lovelorn as well. I salt it in the bath.

Out of the varieties of lavender, our local greenhouse recommends planting Munstead and Hidcote which are hardy English herbs... though Grosso and Provence are considered hardy enough. I am to avoid the French and Spanish varieties. I love the possibility of lavender in my own back yard.

I pick up a perfect specimen, white with upper curves and lower single point.

Heart shaped rocks of white and red call to me from crevices and baked dirt, from the side of the path to the spot I next step. The abundance makes me laugh and even become brazen.

"I will gather only red." I chuckle to myself.  "That is the true color of the heart."  I pause to consider. "Blue blood courses through living human hearts, not red." It is a joke, yet I have a belligerent spirit.  "I will trust the Universe when I find a blue heart."

My declaration makes me sad. This is a challenge I do not believe can be met.  I have serious trust issues. I have not had good experience trusting others. It seems to me the world's modus operandi is betrayal.

I round a curve and there on the path sits a blue heart shaped bit of charred packaging. I walk past, laughing at the audacity. I did not say blue heart shaped rock, did I? I said heart shape and the Universe answered my request.

I return to pick it up!

I know there is a God and Avatars and Angels and Ancestors... and... GAAA, how can I not believe? Serendipity is not an illusion.

(In fact, Jack this minute called me and told me he and his partner are now proud owners of the Federal 117 well in Wyoming's Wind River Basin. They will be pumping gas out of this acreage at a rate of 2-300 MCF/day to start. He has a stack of stock bonds that need to find a secure, safety deposit box. He is optimistic we will be able to transport our youngest daughter to college after all, and pay down our lenders someday soon.)

A few steps beyond the blue heart humor, light glints from a rock that cannot be described as anything but blue-gray. It's shape is not perfect, but wind and water have created an ice cream cone shape with indications that over time it might become heart shaped.

This rock is precious to me in its optimism and promise.

But the Universe is not finished with me. I round the corner, smiling at the joke that has been foisted upon me. Thrilled that I am the butt of a Universal joke and yet blessed with potential.

And there it lies: a blue heart shaped rock, plain as the freckles on my Norwegian nose.

My own blue pumping heart swells with gratitude. God's unearned love and favor for his child has gifted me again in this, my year of unending grace.

I must keep my end of the challenge and trust.

                                                I waited patiently for the Lord
                                                He inclined and heard my cry.
                                                He brought me right out of the pit,
                                                out of my miry clay.
                                                I will sing a new song,
                                                How long to sing this song?
                                                He set my feet upon a rock,
                                                and made my footsteps heard.
                                                Many will see,
                                                Many will see and fear.
                                                I will sing, sing a new song.
                                                How long to sing this song?