Why I Believe

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may I wish I might have this wish I wish tonight. Please, please, please bring me a dog....

It was the prayer of a 7 year old. A bedtime ritual that finally became a reality when our family moved into our first house. A real house.

Schatzie was a stub-tailed schnauzer that looked somewhat like a seal when I pushed his ears back. He had a distinct odor and a brown and grey matted beard. He was my best friend and I could tell him anything. He heard about fights with my friends, my first love interests, and all of my wishes and dreams.

We lived in a safe area, but on the corner of a busy street. Schatzie was always walked with a leash. Although he could be trusted with secrets, he was kind of a dumb dog and would wander away if he wasn't chained to the house. One day he got out by mistake. I don't know how long he was gone- but I know my parents had that worried look on their faces. My dad drove around in the car, we spent hours calling his name, the police were contacted and the family was beginning to lose hope. It was dark and almost time for bed. I had to try. Just one more time. I didn't tell anyone- they wouldn't have let me go.

I remember walking up the dark street, praying once again.

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...

No.

God, please God, help me. Help me find my dog. I need him. He can't be gone. He has to come home. He is the best dog...a tear trickles down my cheek.

I can see movement in the street. It is him! Schatzie, my chubby little stub-tailed friend. He comes right up to me with not a care in the world. I pick him up and carry him the rest of the way home, struggling with the awkwardness, thanking God all the way.

I don't know why Schatzie came across the street at that instant. I don't know where he was as we looked and called for him for hours. What I do know is that a child prayed with all her heart and believed that God would provide. A child knew that no one on earth had the power to find her best friend, that God was her last hope and that He was listening. The child believed. I believed.

As I write this, I have a heavy heart. There is so much wrong in the world. So many things happen each day that force me to question my beliefs. But as I reflect on that day I still know that God will provide. He is a presence that will not abandon and even as I question, I can truly say, I believe.

The room smells of a combination of sweat and pool chalk. I think about my need for air and glance toward a small window. Through the layer of grime I can just barely make out the iron bars. A feeling of claustrophobia sets in. The room is stark, painted cream brick with a cement floor. An old pool table is the only distraction from the reality of where I am and who I am with. Inside my core I suppress the fear that I told myself I would not feel. I am a minority. I am white. I am female. But, I belong here. As I knock one in, my confidence builds. Nervous laughter and arbitrary conversations can't eliminate the uncertainty of my choices but I must take a stand. Countless things could go wrong and as I focus on the little white ball in front of me, peripheral movement transpires within the corners of the room. The focus of my partner is not on the game. Instead it has moved to the shift in the atmosphere. What originated as an uncomfortable gathering has transformed into a tense realization that I have absolutely no control. My partner approaches with uneasy smile. "You need to be goin." "What?" I ask, feeling a combination of stupidity and fear. "Do it now- you ain't gonna wanna be here for this." "umm, okay," I reply as I contemplate what to do.

I knock hard on the door so it can be unlocked. Unsure about what to say to the guard, I head immediately for the bathroom. I lock the door and exhale while fighting back the tears. I can't cry- they will know. I hear a scuffle and the guards incoherent voices. The jangle of keys coupled with yelling authority trying to gain control. As the hall empties, I slip through to main desk where I quickly sign my name. The buzzer sounds and I exit the center without regret but full of emotion. The security of my car takes hold and as I crank the heat the tears flow freely down my face. My blurred vision leads me down the deserted night road to the highway. I pull over and take a deep breath finally feeling safe as the roar of cars speed past. Safe from the naivete of my idealistic beliefs of the power I could not hold.

Time

Silence. But, I can hear the clock ticking. That steady beat that marks a day gone and another to come. It never stops. It doesn't care what I have accomplished. It is the constant. As I sit hear in the quiet, time keeps ticking away. Or is it ticking to something?

Live life in the moment. Live for the present. Seize the day. What does it all mean? Is there really a present? Or is it just the tightrope between the past and the future. The thread that weaves and just barely

connects the two

causing us to wonder which has the most significance.