You unlocked the park’s bathroom door and stepped out into a cloudy day. You heard sea gull’s caa-caaing and the shushing of the surf. You climbed the stairs of the boardwalk. You then removed your sandals and rolled up your pants legs. When you started walking and felt the roughness of the old boards, you recalled the time when you ran a hand over a shuffleboard table and got attacked by a splinter. Now you watched where you walked because you didn’t want any more wood injuries.
It is hard for you to write these things because you’re afraid people will judge you for your fears. In my reality, though, rear is common to almost all men and women. Does not my word contain at least 365 references to that state of being?
When you stepped off the boardwalk and onto the cool sand, you saw large and small footprints. You saw ruts where folks’ toes dug in as they ran. Because the fisher- folk were to the right, you decided to walk in that direction. If it seemed appropriate you could ask the folks who had their poles stuck in the sand: “What’s biting, and what are they biting on?” All eyes, however, stared at the shivering lines as if mesmerized. All along you thought fishing was a serious enterprise and now you knew it truly was.
You continued toward the old launch pad, which had once held a giant gantry atop a multi-story, tracked, crawler- transporter that which had carried the 363 foot tall Apollo/Saturn V launch vehicle to launches. You recalled the time when Bill got you a pass to go all the way out to the space center with three other worker’s wives to watch a launch. You’ll never forget the giant countdown clock in front of the visitor’s gallery close to Vertical Assembly Building (VAB).
In your mind’s eye, as you walked, you envisioned a vehicle set to go. A column of smoke billowed from the flame-trench underneath. But the Saturn V did not move. Was something wrong? At T minus zero seconds, after full power on all five 1st stage rocket engines had been verified, the swing arms retracted and the vehicle began to rise. When the sound and vibration reached you it was like a continuous thunder clap echoing off the walls of the VAB. You felt the pulsations inside your body. You looked up and saw fire-tinted clouds boiling underneath the Saturn V as it began to leave the earth. It was such an awesome combination of sight and sound that you wanted to laugh, to shout, and to cry all at the same time.
Soon your mind-video ended and you were back on the quiet beach. Now you looked down at the foam scalloping the shore and lapping at your feet. The air felt humid, and the sand undulated like miniature hills. You leaned against a hearty wind and held on to your wide-brimmed hat as you continued down the beach.
After about fifteen minutes, you turned back toward the boardwalk. You asked yourself why you had come. The only reason thing you could think of was because you remembered being there with your children and grandchildren. All at once you remember being afraid for the children and the not wanting to take your eyes off them. The boardwalk was far away. You turned around and headed back. You climbed the stairs, put on your shoes, and rolled down your jeans.
My Beloved Child, hear me in this:
The world is afraid, it has always been afraid. The terrorists can’t take credit for it. You will see the phrase, terror of the night in my word along with a promise that you will not be overcome by it. You needed to come here today, so you could capture those fearful thoughts and memories and let me erase them for you, never to be remembered again. Fear, my dear, is the direct opposite of love. The world, the flesh, and the devil, are the unholy trinity, the enemy. You do not belong to these. You are mine I have called you by my name. You’re “designed for peak happiness, thinking, and health,” (Dr. Caroline Leaf.) I will never, never, ever leave you or forsake you, not for any reason. I have prepared a place for you and I’ll help you move into it now.
Dr. Caroline Leaf