Because of my strong connection to Native Americans, I was especially interested in a story author Leonard Sweet told in a book of his. It’s about a rite of passage that one tribe had for its boys when they turned 13. On that birthday, a warrior blindfolded the boy and took him several miles from camp. The warrior then took off the blindfold and left this young teenager in this dark, dense forest. The young man was expected to stay there for the night and fend for himself. When it got dark, it got really dark. The trees were so dense he couldn’t see the moon or the stars. Oh, but he could sure hear those eerie sounds of the wind, the howls of the wild animals nearby, and the rustling of the leaves that sounded like an approaching enemy. For most boys, it was a night without sleep. And then the dawn began to break. And the young man could then see the forest as it really was; the flowers blooming, the majestic trees swaying in the wind, and the wildlife scurrying around for food. And then, the biggest surprise of all. The boy would see an imposing male figure, standing in the woods only a few yards away. He’d be startled at first, until he recognized the man. Unbeknownst to this frightened young warrior, his father had been there the whole time, ready to protect his son against anything that might harm him.

A father who’s there even when you’re unaware of His presence and His protection; a father who can defend you against anything that comes against you.

There is such a Father.

In my freshman year of highschool,
I knew a tall boy,
with a head of thick, curly hair,
and he was
beautiful.

and I told him that I wrote poetry,
lines of rhyme
after rhyme
of the melody that my heart could not sing,
and he told me that he never understood poetry,
so, I hushed my heart and put down my pencil,
because how could poetry
ever be
beautiful,
if this beautiful boy couldn’t love it?

and I told him how the stars made my heart shine,
and how the clouds formed
and the blue of the sky
always seemed to affect my mood,
and he told me he never had the time to look at the sky,
so every time I stepped outside,
I closed my eyes,
because how could the sky
ever be
beautiful,
if this beautiful boy couldn’t love it?

And I stayed up talking to him until three in the morning
and I poured out every story I had ever known
and I told him of every fear
and ever dream,
I had ever had,
and when I gave him my heart
and told him I loved him,
he told me he never saw me that way.
and I looked in the mirror
and thought I was ugly.
because how could I
ever be
beautiful,
if this beautiful boy couldn’t love me?