There I laid for nearly two hours . . . my back on the wooden deck, layered-up in clothing, bundled in a blanket, complete with a hoodie and my Papaw’s old insulated coat at 1:30 Thursday morning underneath the Carolina sky. With child-like enthusiasm, I anxiously waited for the next meteor and the overwhelming thought was straight from an old hymnal, “How Great Thou Art!”
My Papa is AWESOME!!
Paying no attention to the near freezing temperature, my eyes focused on the beautiful sky. Void of any clouds, I picked out different constellations, as I laughed to myself, and with a smile as big as the North Star, I was completely awe.
Witnessing the Geminid meteor shower, one of the biggest of the year, I was completely consumed by the appreciation of the Creator. I could hardly believe my eyes as meteors shot through the sky as if shot by some invisible Cosmic slingshot—one that even David would admire (1st Samuel 17)! As quickly as Antonio Brown, or Brandin Cooks, burn another DB, the meteor would majestically appear before disappearing from view. My mind paused like Le’Veon Bell, picking out a hole in the defense, stopping on one subject before accelerating onto the next.
I thought about life—the victories, the defeats, forgiveness, my family and friends, my Mamaw (Trudy), who is making her way onto hole No. 18’s tee box, my girlfriend Stacy, her daughter Isabella, my huge love of sports, my job, my life’s purpose as well as how my heart’s cup overrunneth with gratitude. The same way walking down the beach is conducive to deep thinking and introspection, gazing into the night sky was both an act of appreciation and therapy.
As effortlessly as a Drew Brees’ go-route, down the sideline, my mind kept coming back to one thing. . . there are over 100 billion galaxies, probably closer to 200 billion according to astronomers, so imagine how many stars are out there in the deep abyss of the Universe. The Keeper of the very stars we can see, and those we will never see, loves me! In spite of all I’ve done, all the various ways I’ve disobeyed Him, all the times I’ve fallen short, the very One who hung every single one of these stars, and knows them all by name (Psalm 147:14), loves me more than I could ever imagine! What an amazing, humbling thought-- In fact, one that brought tears of thankfulness to my eyes.
I waited patiently for the next display of grandeur and awe-inspiring display of light, I smiled . . . and counted. One, eight, seventeen, twenty-three, thirty, thirty-three, thirty-eight and before I knew it I was closing in on one of my favorite numbers—41. Why? Forty-one was the number I wore in high school, for the Lincolnton Wolves, a school known for its football prowess, as a reserve corner and wide receiver.
Was I a stud on the gridiron, who was now reliving the glory days? Far from it! In fact, I only had a handful of tackles, a tackle on kickoff here or there and a couple of picks (in practice no less) and the pinnacle of my athleticism being grabbing the rim at five-foot-eight to recall and celebrate. But it’s always been a special number to me as I originally chose it because Todd Lyght, former Los Angeles and Notre Dame standout, wore it. Thinking of my friendships with Damien, my childhood best friends Matthew and Stephen, Joey, Trey and Tommy, along with the brotherhood and life principles I learned through football, as well as all the memories of big games, the smell of the field, wearing your jersey to school on Friday, the cheer of the crowd, the two-a-day summer practices, I couldn’t wait for No. 41.
I imagine in much the same way the New Orleans Saints waited ‘til the third round to draft Alvin Kamara and just like Kamara, who is averaging 8.4 yards every time he touches the pigskin, No. 41 didn’t disappoint one bit. Waiting on a meteor is symbolic of life, filled with expectancy, as you feel the anticipation bubbling over and sometimes just when you’re about to give up . . . your faith is rewarded with the object of your hoping, wishing and praying. The meteor lit up the sky as it weaved through the stars down the galatical football field.
The shower was a touchdown to say the least—a touchdown so timely it would make Carson Wentz green with envy! See, that’s the one thing I’ve learned about God . . . He never disappoints. Waiting on a meteor was an exercise in patience, but it was also mind-blowing the impeccable way God would flick another disc across the sky with more ease than a Giancarlo Stanton home run, or Mike Judge blast, right at the very moment I was about to give up. My faith would leap up like Mike Trout robbing a would-be homer to meet the Great I Am in the sky and the result was breath-taking.
As my favorite number faded into oblivion, I just smiled, picked up my two pillows and blanket and headed back inside, feeling closer to God in the process. Excitement and happiness embraced me. The same way the do-it-all duo of Kamara and Mark Ingram leave the Saints’ faithful in awe, with electrifying runs and game-breaking catches, I was in awe by what I had just witnessed.
God had once again added to His endless trophy room of faithfulness.
He did that just for me . . . and just like the cross, He did that JUST FOR YOU as well! (John 3:16-17).
The display, in the heavens, was more clutch and amazing than an Aaron Rodgers' Hail Mary pass!
Impressive only begins to describe what I witnessed, but calling to mind Kevin Durant of yesteryear, in a world filled with so much uncertainty, hurt and disappointment, happiness and joy, triumph and tragedy, God, “You’re the REAL MVP!”
John Mark Brooks
