Falling Star

I have been a star chaser all my life. I remember as a little boy, my father and I would sit on the old front porch swing for hours. We consumed the night’s hour by talking, meditating on life, and just binding a bond that no force could break. I would sit in awe flabbergasted at the stories my father would share regarding life, love and family. I remember feeling if life was never changing and time had stood steal. Night after night father would return to the old swing, knowing my youthful eagerness of curiosity would draw me back. My father always had a story to share; well to me they were stories, to my father they were memories. And, sure he did repeat a story or two, but I did not mind. I would still listen with all curiosity and full of attention. I did not realize at the time there was an underlying love building stronger with each passing night on that old swing under the nighttime sky. A lasting love that I was not conscious of at the time, a love without end. I remember staring into my father’s face observing every wrinkle and crevice. See to me my father was a Hero, some type of personal God just for me. He definitely met the definition in my understanding of a Hero. To me a Hero is someone you respect. A Hero is an honorable individual; whose action helps preserve, save, repair and protect. A Hero lives to serve for the general good of others, and that is what my father does on a daily bases. My father is an honorable man who has not only saved or repaired his family. He protects us from danger and lives to serve for our better good. As a child I never had to look into the sky past the stars searching for God. My father was always at home. So for me religion as a child was hard to grasp; because how could there be something bigger than my father with a stronger love, a love that would never leave or forsake me. Sure do not get me wrong; we went to church every Sunday and Wednesday. I learned of God and Jesus but to a child these were stories. The stories seemed real as if I were there experiencing them while at church; but when I left church they were just stories which became memories. My father was real. Father was there to pick me up when I would fall, and wipe away the tears when I cried. Just the warm touch of fathers hand would ease the pain I felt inside. Please, do not get me wrong ,father was a strong man; but who says a strong hand cannot have a soft touch. However, my father never discipline out of anger, but instead gave guidance with love and compassion. Yes, to me my father was a Hero, or some type of God. Father was a person who could overcome whatever the enemy had placed against our family. Father was full of strength a fountain that never seemed to run dry. He was like the fire flies at night lighting up the brush tops night after night. I recall one night sitting on the old swing watching the moon rise amongst the glitters of the night sky while looking into the abyss of the darkness. I listened to the stories father told while the fireflies lit up the brush tops as the moon shimmered over the mountains path with a florescent glow. Yes, I thought father is my Hero. Now this heroic belief I had in my father made his job as a parent even harder. I realized he never quit, left or gave up. No matter how dark times got father always seemed to shine night after night and year after year. While father and I sat on that old porch swing watching the glitters of the night sky, I suddenly saw a bright flash that mysteriously fell thru the night sky with such hypnotizing beauty, that my heart was over come with intense curiosity. I turned to my father and ask, “ Father what is a falling star?” “ He began to state in a monotone voice, well Webster’s says a falling star is a …….” Then I asked with a puzzled face,” Who catches the stars when they fall”. Father replied, “God catches them”. I insisted, “How do you know father, have you ever ask him (you know asked God)”. My father looked me in the eye as he stood to his feet,as climbing up off that old porch swing, smiled and said “Good Night Son”. And, as he (father) turned to go inside, I could see the tears swelling up in his eyes, as his voice grew humbly softer until it faded into a silence. I sat quietly for a brief moment, knowing I had struck a very special but painful thing within my father.

So I looked in the night sky beyond the glitters of mountain paths, pass the stars into the abyss of darkness and ask the ever-sounding question.

God have you ever caught a falling star?

At that moment everything grew silent, the crickets froze, treetops grew still and the night winds became calm. My heartbeat began to slow, yet it’s beats were steady as the African drums in a slow chant. Then suddenly it was if the sky was parting as the red sea and the radiance of Heavens gates shined thru. I franticly asked again, “God have you ever caught a falling star”? When in a cosmic flash, I heard a voice with such power, intense authority and sincere love. I was left in awe. Could I be in the very presence? And I recall staring intently in the sky. I asked again, “Please God have you ever caught a falling star?” And among the silence it was if God was looking at my father as he made his way towards the door, and replied,” many times my child many times”.

A child’s story that I wish was an adult’s memory. May god bless those without fathers, that they may become great fathers. And thanks to the Heavenly father some of us have been blessed with special step-fathers.

by Thomas E Lord Jr.