In the Light

Jeremy Castro

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


Email This Story






Church.

I sit dozing off, and it’s hard to listen.

Someone is sitting too close to me. Mentally, I question why because of all the open seats in the auditorium.  A wave of heat and discomfort comes onto me, and I sweat. Out of frustration I scoot over slightly to my right and try to make some distance.

My pastor said, “Could it be if you lived life with help it would be so much better.”

He finally caught my attention.

My dad had just died. I guess I was confused and missing him. We lived in Nebraska, and I remember the countless days we spent in the basement watching sports together. It was a dull and massive dim room. Only one wall in the basement had a window, and it was tornado-proof glass, thick. This was the only source of sunlight.

That basement was emotionless. It was gray, and that speaks for itself. Yet, this basement hosted many critical conversations with my dad.  The winds of Nebraska filled me with fear, particularly when I was alone. But when my dad was with me, I could comfort this fear. I thought I was brave and true.

During a tornado warning, my dad said this: “Trust NO ONE. People are gonna come after you, and you need to keep yourself safe above everything.” My father with authority as the winds churned.

I never argued with what he said. Although, it never seemed to be right to me, and it never sat well in my spirit.

My flashback was interrupted when someone else sat on my other side, again, too close.  I was now trapped by two people.  Keeping people away emotionally is easier than keeping them away physically. People were serpents.

So Dad said. I was going to keep that lesson close to me forever. That’s when I would be happy.

“Jeremiah 17:7 But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.” My pastor said in a soft voice.

And the Nebraska winds blew through my gray basement and shattered the tornado-proof window.

I had grew up in church my whole life but these words had only just hit me until now.

My father is gone.

“God wants the best for you. It’s okay to be okay, but It’s not okay to stay that way,” I repeated Pastor’s words in my head.

That was really good, and I smiled.

“God I’m going to trust you and everyone you place in my life,” I whispered.

As the service ended, we were dismissed. I walked to the foyer beneath the enormous church windows and stood in a flood of light. I could see a group of people laughing together. I walked closer, closer than arm’s length, and joined the conversation.

 

Print Friendly, PDF & Email