The walls are us. We are the living stones. We are made out of the same stuff in the foundation; we with those foundation stones made from the cornerstone stuff.

Our lives are the making of the stone. It is because of what we are made of, and where we have been placed, that we all want to make something of ourselves.

Any one who has tried stone masonry will know just how difficult it is to get a stone to do what you want. You have to know how the stone was formed, you have to follow the layers in the stone or, when you chip parts of it off you might crush the whole thing. If you just pound on the part you want to break off you might break the whole thing into two or two hundred pieces. The mason can not do what he wants with any stone; the stone has to be, at least in part, made to take a certain shape even prior to the cutting.

As much as we try, we often find we do not know our own shape and structure. It is always our duty to try.

All our lives God makes the necessary changes. Water is the best source for this. However, this is not a quick fix process, even with a large mass of water at high speeds, still it slowly smooths away the stone. It does something that a sharp hammer could never do. It adds a beauty unlike what fire does; though hammers and fire do add beauty.

But if a stone would respond to the water it would not need the sharp hammer or the fire. Or rather, there may be a lot less cutting and burning.

At the appointed time the walls are inspected by the architect. Each piece individually. There may be some sticky muddy bricks made up with straw and sticks. They may be stuck to us like glue, perhaps they are part of the reason that we are there at all. The other parts of the wall may think that we look like the same sticky mess beside a whole other stone; a separate one. But the architect knows his blue prints and can remove it safely from the wall.

The stones hope that the ones beside them taken away will one day return. For a stone will keep the fossil of those sticks, shells, and bones, that have embedded themselves into its own identity. It can not forget; how could it with all those holes in the wall.

Because the walls are what they will be, but still not yet, some parts of the wall are sagging; some because of those muddy, sloppy bricks; some parts are falling and bringing others with them because they do not respond to the shape they are supposed to take and can not bear the weight of their place. Other parts are glorious, and we envy them. We want our piece of the wall to hug tight to the foundation and support those that will be built on.

The stones cry out, wondering what the foundation had in mind to begin with. The structure does not make sense.

Why did the foundation hold in its original plan something that looks so strange and takes so long?