Security in the Milky Way
Summer night sky
Security. That’s what I felt on Sunday evenings when we drove home from church, singing. There were three, sometimes four, songs I remember as part of our repertoire in that one-mile ride home from church. My father turned on the left signal light as we left the old national highway and pulled into the one-fourth mile dirt lane to home. Pulling up beside the house, he put the car into park, turned off the ignition, and we climbed out. Then we stopped – because he stopped. He stood there, pointing to the west where stars twinkled and nodded in the aftermath of summer’s sunset. He explained the different constellations. There was a bear I never could see and the little dipper. Orion, the warrior, so plain to my father, was unseen by me. The big dipper‘s handle hung from the North Star, and out there way beyond my imagination was the Milky Way. To be truthful, all I saw were stars – millions of them, no doubt – but stars that, to my childish mind, were no design or shape or creature.
Forever etched in my mind
How many times this happened, I don’t know. It seemed that it was something we always did, and in that settled routine, I had security. I only remember thinking how smart my father and older siblings were, to be able to see creatures and shapes in the sky. Even when he tried to point out a specific place in the sky, I merely nodded and acted like I understood, but I didn’t. I was so young. Maybe three, maybe four years old. For by the time I turned five, it was winter, and my father died.
On summer evenings when the air is cool and stars are out, I remember those evenings. What is it that draws me to that memory, after all these years? It is the security I had even when I was small.
Security in the darkness
What I remember is the tradition of coming home, of being with family, and of belonging. It was not so much what we did, but that we did this, that we did this together, and that this was a part of our lives.
The songs we sang on our way home spoke of trust and peace as darkness was coming on. The words spoke of a future Home, and of prayer for forgiveness, for keeping, and for quiet sleep. What more does a child need when darkness comes and night is here?
The night sky exhibited glory and splendor and a majesty beyond one’s comprehension. We stood there together, gazing and talking and contemplating our smallness in the vastness of the universe, secure in the knowledge that the same God who hung those stars in space held us in the palm of His hand.
Security in my days
As a small child, my faith was simple, child-like, and real. Those seemingly simple and meaningless moments gave me security and strength, not only for the coming night, but for all the days of my life.
If you’re a parent, remember the importance of living in peace so your children will experience security in being unafraid. Remember that little things can make lasting impressions, so make the little things count.
One of the songs we sang on our way home from church was Twilight is Stealing. You can click on the link below to hear this song.
One of the other songs was Jesus, Tender Shepherd, Hear Me. You can click on the link below to hear this song.
The third song we sang was Now the Light Has Gone Away. You can click below to hear this song. The words and the tune are a little different from the one I knew as a child.
