POSTSCRIPT

On our first day in Portonovo Bay, Italy, I found my white rock.  More precisely, I found millions of white rocks (and pink and green) on the shores of the Adriatic Sea—and a high percentage, smooth and oval, just as I had pictured.  For me, they’re the perfect “white stone” of Revelation:  “To him that overcometh will I give. . . a white stone.”

It is just like God to give in superabundance, overflowing goodness (like multitudinous stones) when I finally learned, “Heaven itself is reached with empty hands and open minds. . .” ( A Course in Miracles).

I wonder if I am really ready for this precious gift, or if there is some mistake in the grand scheme of things.

Am I deluded by my own madness?  I only know that I have looked for the perfect white rock since I was a toddler, holding my grandmother’s hand as we walked beside a gravel parking lot near my house.  But though I have collected many stones along the way, I never found the one I was seeking until my husband David brought me up to this “New Gate” of Italy many years after my search began.

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