A few years ago I was talking to my daughter, a student of psychology in Seattle, USA, when through the phone, I heard thunder in her room. It was loud and terrible, and knowing she was many miles away also made me wish I was there with her.
“Are you afraid?” I asked. “A little,” she said, “And when it thunders in the night I do get a little afraid and wish I was back home and knew you were there!” “Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth’s rite of passage?” I asked her. “No,” said my daughter, “Tell me the story!”
“His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone.” I said, “He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone.
Once he survives the night, he is a man. He cannot tell the other boys of this experience, because each lad must come into manhood on his own. The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him.”
“Something like what I am experiencing now,” she said. “Yes,” I said, “Something similar! Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blows the grass and earth, and shakes the stump, on which the little boy is sitting, but he sits stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man!”
“Poor little boy,” said my daughter, “Even I realize that I have to stay alone and not get afraid of these sounds, because that is the only way I can become an adult!” “Finally,” I said, “after a horrific night the sun appears and he removes his blindfold.
It is then he discovers his father sitting on the stump next to him.” “How beautiful,” said my daughter. “His father has been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.” “Are you saying something to me dad?” “Yes, “I told her, “You too, are never alone. Even when you don’t know it, God is watching over you, sitting on the stump beside you. When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him!”
I heard the sound of the thunder in the distance through the phone, but I could make out my daughter was smiling, “I can feel your smile,” I said. “Yes,” she said, “When God is in my room, the least I can do is smile at the sound of thunder. I know I am not alone..!”
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
