Prayers Like River Stones

We went to see the highest single drop waterfall east of the Rockies today (okay, okay, all my internet sources are saying "one of" the highest.  The first time I saw it I was nineteen, swam to the base of the falls and balanced on a rock while the force of the wind coming off of the water blew me backward and the mist washed over me.  It was a magical moment, and on that day I was told it was the highest, so I stand by that still!).  Here it is:

Yes, I know it's crooked.  I kind of liked it that way.  You didn't?  Oh, okay, fine.  Here you go, you linear thinker you:

Better?  Good.  So there was a little bit of ritualistic behavior happening here, and it looked a lot like this:

And the ritual reminded me of my ongoing spiritual conundrum, and then I had an idea.  For every rock, I would say a prayer.  A prayer of thanks.  And there were many, many rocks:

And thus, there were many, many prayers.  And he never ran out of rocks, and I never ran out of thanks.  And then there was one big rock, and first it got a baptism of sorts:

And then it was tossed into the stream like a giant wishing stone, and I gave my biggest thanks of all for a giant wish and dream and prayer come true:

At my sonogram on Friday, the technician told me it looks like we're having a daughter.  And my beautiful boy will have the sisty he always says he wants.  We are so blessed, and so grateful!