I was a junior in high school when the missile silo in Damascus, Arkansas blew up. My father was on the volunteer fire department and was called to spread the word, “Get your things and proceed to a safe distance away.” It was the middle of the night when mother woke my three siblings and me from our slumber, had us quickly prepare a suitcase, reminded us we need never forget our Bibles and as we got in the car, we opened the dog pen that held our pet beagle and her puppies. If we were unable to return in a reasonable amount of time, then momma dog must be able to get to water and forage for food. We were terrified and we cried.
This event was the culmination of all the worries I carried in my heart as a child/youth. The cold war was ever present on the news and the horrors of the Vietnam War and returning POWs was a reminder of worlds we might never touch, but must know if we were going to be compassionate citizens of planet earth. I was a closet consumer of news. It was my secret security. To know was to be forewarned and prepared. In addition to this, the Titan missile silos were ever present on the horizon or our night time world. Any direction you looked you could see the red blinking lights atop the radio towers at the sites.
The concerns of my heart were sometimes incapacitating. My mind would not turn loose of nuclear holocaust and its real and present threat. I did not want to live in a world that looked like Hiroshima. One sleepless night my father sat beside my bed and I confessed to him how distrustful I was of everything and everyone. Why did the Russians hate us so much? What was going on in the middle east, and Great Britain was having a little fuss in the Falkland Islands that had every one in an uproar!! The world was soon going to end!!!!!……… I knew I would go to Heaven, I just didn’t want to go tomorrow. I asked him to help me find peace of mind and heart.
Over the next serval days and weeks I spent a great deal of time with dad as we refinished some furniture and built shelves and cabinets for the home our family had recently built. These were the golden days of my young life because I began to grow and mature in my spiritual understanding of God’s character. My faith grew, but my anchor was this conversation.
“Dad, why do people that don’t even know us, hate us?”
“I don’t know that everyone does. Do you thing there is a young girl in the USSR tonight asking her father why American’s hate her, even though they don’t know her?”
“Probably.”
“What should her father tell her?”
“That we don’t.”
“Gretchen, your mother and I are doing our part to create peace on earth because we love you. Do you think other parents throughout the world are also building peace for their children too?”
“Yes dad.”
“Gretchen, as long as mother’s love their children, there will be people working harder for peace than for war. You are going to be okay. Fill your mind with good, wear yourself out doing right and love.”
Dad was correct. I’m okay and to all the mothers under the sun, thank you for a love that promotes unity for a better world. Please never stop!
Happy Mother’s Day,
Gretchen
