I did a google image search, and came back with visuals of Scrooge, a point on a map, or a Baptist church.
Only one image caught the meaning I had in mind: a climbing tower of stones. The pile of rocks God commanded the Israelites to raise time and again in the Old Testament to remind them of a specific moment of His work and power.
When my parents and grandparents bought a tract of land along with my uncle’s family, we all gathered and cobbled together a small cairn of stones with cement, consecrating that moment and what God had done in allowing us to acknowledge the land as His. All three families built homes there. Five girls grew up there. Countless travelers and guests make the trek up the hill.
The altar still stands in the brush near the tiny, reedy pond. The date on it reads 4-10(?)-88. Someday, I will show it to my children.
Most of my ebenezers are less concrete, less acknowledged…and easy to forget. I need them, desperately, because I do forget so very easily. Most are cataloged in the back of my mind, the pages of journals.
This week, there was a particularly clear, sturdily constructed ebenezer on the road to making a film…a sort of path that requires a veritable handful of miracles to complete. This week, a well-known actor/producer signed on to executive produce our small, quirky, comedy that still doesn’t have a completed script. This does not guarantee that we will make it to the end of the road.
But it does make the journey seem far more possible.