STARDUST
By
Grandma Baadsgaard
Happy Birthday Josh.
I love you.
Josh
wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to his grandparent’s cabin when his mom asked
him to hop in the van on Friday evening.
“I can’t
get service for my phone up there,” Josh said.
“You need
a break from your phone,” his mother answered. “Put it in your pocket and let’s
go. We’re barbequing hamburgers and slicing up a watermelon tonight.”
Guess if I want supper I better go, Josh thought.
As their
van left the valley floor and climbed higher and higher up the canyon toward
the cabin, Josh felt himself relaxing and breathing deeper. After dinner Josh’s
aunts, uncles and cousins settled in for some games. Josh slipped outside and
sat on the bench on the deck trying to get service for his phone so he could
text his friends.
“There’s
no service up here,” his grandma said sitting down next to Josh. But there’s a
different kind of power up here.”
Josh
smiled. Grandma was always full of words.
“Josh did
you know there's power in every tree, flower, or blade of grass,” Grandma said.
“We miss it if we don’t listen. Close your eyes.”
Josh put
his phone in his pocket and closed his eyes. He heard the wind washing through
the maples and pines surrounding the cabin the whir of the hummingbird’s wings
as they fed.
“There is
power in everything,” Grandma said.
“I just
learned in science that almost every element was formed in the heart of a star
from a
cosmic explosion,” Josh answered. “Nothing really disappears; it just changes
form. We’re all made of star dust.”
“Master creator at work,” Grandma said.
“When
stars get to the end of their lives,” Josh said, “my teacher said they swell up
and fall together again, throwing off their outer layers. If a star is heavy
enough, it will explode in a supernova. So
most of the material we're made of comes from dying stars. We have stuff in us
as old as the universe, and stuff from only a few hundred years ago.”
“I’m getting close to the end of my life,”
Grandma said. “I wonder what I’ll leave behind when I’m gone?”
“Me,” Josh answered.
Grandma smiled.
“I remember the day you were born. Just
yesterday you were a little boy and now you’re a young man.” Grandma said. “Life
is so short. We have to learn all we can while we’re here.”
“Let’s make a fire,” Josh said.
Josh and his grandma stood, walked to the edge
of the deck and down steps toward the fire pit. They carefully placed dried
grass on the bottom of the pit and then placed a tee-pee of sticks and logs
above it. Then Josh lit a match and the grass flashed with light that ignited
the smaller and soon larger logs. Before long there was a warm blazing fire.
“When I die,” Grandma said, “I will throw off
the layers of this earth and in a bright flame of light I will return to my
heavenly home. But part of me will remain here in you. Josh, you are my place
in the future after I am gone.”
Josh took a long stick and poked the dying
embers in the fire.
“Yeah, like nothing really dies, only
transforms,” Josh answered.
Grandma put her arm around Josh as wind washed
through the trees bringing the warmth from the fire like a warm blanket all
around them.
“I love
you Josh,” Grandma said. “Because I’ve experienced how much I love you and your
brothers and mom and dad, I have a small idea how much God loves us. When I was
your age I always pictured God above me somewhere out there in outer space. But
now I know that part of our Mother and Father in Heaven is inside us. In the
same way you have my genes, we have our heavenly parent’s DNA.”
Josh and his grandma looked up at the night
sky as a chorus of crickets sang in the grass behind them. Suddenly a shooting star
streaked across the heavens leaving a trail of glory across the black sky.
“Looks like someone just went home,” Josh
said.