Signposts in the Pebbles - Searching for Agates

The state of Oregon has a Beach called Agate beach on which the shore is covered with stones instead of sand. Not all of the stones are true Agates, you have to search for the treasure, but the beach is stunning none the less and unique to stand on.  The sound of the waves as they roll in over the stones is melodic at times while gentle, and rises to a thunderous roar during a storm surge like a thousand thousand hooves approaching across a cobblestone drawbridge.

I mention the Agates because friends are like those agates, gemstones hidden amongst the masses, each beautiful, but that special and unique one, takes time and care to find and once you do, you treasure it.

I was told yesterday by someone that I was "dead" to them. Without cause or provocation, this individual saw fit to accuse me of withholding items belonging to my father, left when he passed away 19 years ago, of which I was never in possession of. When I tried kindly to explain that I did not have the items, the anger surged and like the stormy sea, the thunderous hatred spewed. I attempted to show compassion for whatever troubles were causing the distress elsewhere in this persons life to trigger such an extreme and illogical reaction, but my attempts only fueled the fire.
In the end, I remained "dead", one amongst many I was informed, and I simply wished the individual peace and happiness.

As I thought about it throughout my day I realized that this too was just another signpost in the pebbles, reminding me of the path I walk and why. I have chosen my path carefully with much consideration and my heart is filled with family each one carefully hand picked. My family are precious Agate stones, some are blood of my blood, like my sons and a handful of others, but the majority are not.  They are unique and special stones found each one uncovered by a different wave washing over and rolling out to sea. The reflection of the sun hitting this one just right, the gleam of the moon catching that one just so, each one found and cherished and loved with great care.

The family I have chosen, the family I have, would never name me "dead" but would help me fight to live. Even when I am gone some day, I will live on through them and in their hearts, they will not see me "dead" as someone else so carelessly labeled me yesterday.