In his book, “Room of Marvels,” James Bryan Smith writes, “The most beautiful stones have been tossed by the wind and washed by the waters and polished to brilliance by Life’s strongest storms.”

I have this quote, sent by a friend on a laminated slip of paper, sitting on my computer. The quote reminds me of how the trials and tribulations of life can bring us strength that we never knew we had.

Geologists know that rocks, stones, and crystals not only tell us about how our world was created, but that they are also reminders of the past.

These stones can hold fossils of ancient creatures and plants, either captured in solidified sap like in amber, or by making impressions in mud or sand that through time has hardened with heat and compression.

Many of our ancestors believed rocks to be sacred. Stonehenge with its great monoliths is believed to not only celebrate the equinox, but also be a place of sacred ritual. Other sacred stones were used as altars.

Additionally, Indigenous cultures used stones to create medicine wheels with a small circle of rocks inside a larger circle of rocks. These sacred circles are symbolic of the interconnectedness of all life and the balance of the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.

Over the years, I have collected rocks – first as a child and then as an adult fascinated with geology. Many of the rocks in my collection have come from the beaches I have visited, but some were found in my garden here in what was once Lake Hitchcock.

I have lined my gardens with many of the larger rocks we have found digging out our gardens. I have often said that in New England, stones are the major crop! We also had a load delivered from the local quarry. What amazes me is how the Earth births these round, solid masses of minerals here in New England. While I enjoy looking at all my stones, my favorite kinds are the ones that have fossils or crystals peeking through like little windows into the past.

Stones are sacred for other reasons. Many people believe that they have healing qualities if held or worn. Scientifically, we know that holding small stones in your hand can reduce stress. Called “worry stones,” doctors and therapists have found that people who have a worry stone and hold it between their fingers and thumbs, rubbing it, find it calming.

I love to hold smooth round quartz or basalt in my hand, rolling the stone over and rubbing my fingers over the smooth surface. I wonder where it came from and how it got to be where I am in this exact moment. I realize that I might be holding a stone that someone tens of thousands of years ago held, perhaps thinking the same deep thoughts.

Another way stones are used are as a remembrance of someone who has died. Putting small stones on a gravestone is a way to honor the deceased, showing that they have been remembered. At Mount Agamenticus in York, Maine, people have put stones on what legend says is the grave of Saint Aspinquid, a Penobscot Mi’kmaq tribal leader. For years, people have left stones on the area where they thought his grave was located. Now, a huge cairn (rocks piled up to create a monument) marks the spot.

After many years of holding, collecting, and sharing sacred stones, I also have come to see how stones can be used as metaphors for life. Here in New England, we have huge, solid rock mountains, stone-strewn valleys and a coastline that goes from fine grains of sand to huge outcroppings of granite. New England storms can create smooth, shiny stones or sharp, hazardous boulders.

When the storms of life hit us, we, too, can either become softer, smoother, shinier or we can become sharp, edgy, and full of points. Unlike the stones, we can choose. Do we let the trials and tribulations make us bitter, mean-spirited, and unkind or do we rise above the pain and anguish to find it in ourselves to be stronger, kinder, and loving?

American actress, Diane Lane, said, “All the lessons are in nature. You look at the way rocks are formed — the wind and the water hitting them, shaping them, making them what they are. Things take time, you know?”

Remembering to be like rocks or stones allows us to smooth out our sharp edges to shine brightly.

The Rev. Linda M. Rhinehart Neas is an ordained interfaith minister. She graduated from The New Seminary in New York City with a master of theology. She often fills the pulpit in local Franklin County churches. She maintains an international, online ministry through Facebook.