The Parable of the Beachcomber and the White Stones

In a certain city there dwelt a woman who frequented the beach.  She grew very interested in the polished stones that covered the beach and began to collect them.  After some time, she realized that the stones she was most drawn to were the white stones.  They came in so many shapes and sizes and varieties.  Some were very smooth and appeared very nearly perfect.  Others had imperfections that were ever so small.  Some had large cracks and particles that covered various parts of their surface.  To the beachcomber, they were all beautiful and so she gathered them in and took them home.  The waves and the tumbling were no longer polishing the stones.   They looked lovely on her shelf but they grew no lovlier. 

I began collecting stones from the beach when I arrived here.  At first I collected many different kinds.  There were grey and green and red ones.  There were amber and yellow and black.  The ones that fascinated me most were the white stones.  To me they represented people and their many varieties.  I found a "rough stone rolling" which to me represented Joseph Smith.  I found a fairly large tear drop shaped semi-transparent quartz which was almost perfect.  That became Christ.  There are a huge variety in between.  As I collected I thought of the white stones that provided light for the people of Jared.  Then Ken reminded me of the new name written on a white stone.

I became an observer and the stones became various people in my mind.  They were in various stages in their life processes.  The sea and the other stones on the beach became the means by which the stones were polished much like a tumbler that people who polish stones use.  The action of the sea and stones rolling in and out again stressed the stones but it also made them more beautiful and interesting.  To my understanding, this became a very important process much like the one we all go through in life.  A black stone will never become a white stone nor does it need to.  A green stone will never become red but each stone becomes an integral part of the whole.  This fact gives variety and joy to life.

I will probably keep collecting because of what they mean to me but at some point in time, most of them will be returned to the sea to continue their polishing process.  I will always carry in my heart the sound of the waves rolling those stones and the image of them getting more and more polished by the action of the tumbling,  They then will have the opportunity to become even more beautiful for another beachcomber to collect and marvel over.