Why We Are Here
The New Earth Series Continues
One of the blessings of having young parents is that, if you’re lucky, you may still have your grandparents and even great-grandparents around when you reach adulthood. My great grandmother played a special role in my life. Though she lived in a different state, she had a beautiful way of showing she cared.
When I was a child, my great-grandmother would ask me, with her Italian accent (she was born in New York but raised in Italy—it’s a long story), if I went to church. When I would say no, she would say something to the effect: well, you’ll go. Give it some time. A small Italian nudge she gave me throughout my life. Thankfully, it worked.
Her birthday was last week and I saw it on my calendar. Though she died twelve years ago, I decided to listen to some of her many voice messages she left for me over the years. In her messages, she often wished me God’s blessings and all the goodness in life. (I even have one of her singing happy birthday—she was an opera singer and had a beautiful voice.)
She lived until she was 94 and, as you get older, things don’t work as well. She asked God why she was still here (with laughter) every day for years. Part of the answer I know was to guide me with her nudges.
None of us are perfect, but I think we’re all here to help someone. Although I am writing these very words, I am no better at doing this than anyone else. There is no master plan revealed to us that lays out exactly what we should be doing. So, if we mess up, it’s okay, we’ll do better next time. The key is to keep trying.
As my Great Grandmother would say, all the best of everything and all of God’s blessings to you.
Peace.
Enjoy the next entry of New Earth below. To read the entire series, click here.
New Earth, Chapter 4 Continues
Ten minutes. That’s how much air Reed had left according to his display. He looked at the thrusters on the palm of his space suit and banged them together. He couldn’t get them working again. Maybe it was for the best; he wasn’t good at controlling them—that’s how he got in this mess in the first place.
Reed shook his head. It was Liberty’s fault! She shot us into space. What kind of plan was that? Reed was on his own now. No Liberty. No Tao. Just him floating in space for eternity.
Reed looked at the stars all around him. He turned his head toward home, or, at least, where he thought home was, and could see down onto the Texas plains where he grew up. He saw himself playing outside, riding horses and kicking up dirt. He saw himself staring up at the giant night skies in Texas. He always felt connected to something at night. The stars were everywhere. It was as if the universe was staring down and looking right at him.
He looked up (or was it down?) in the distance. Now, floating in space, with minutes left of air, Reed didn’t feel the universe staring at him. It was something else.
Words filled his mind. Four words. Where had he heard them before? He didn’t know its meaning. He whispered, “Let there be light.” He dared not speak them again to preserve oxygen.
Eight minutes left.
“Let there be light.”
He was going to die.
“Let there be light.”
New Earth was being taken over by Maxwell Rhodes.
“Let there be light.”
He saw the machine: government. Policies. Elections.
“Let there be light.”
Reed’s mind froze. There was more! He heard his grandmother’s voice. “And there was light,” she said.
The beams of light covered Reed. Millions of stars surrounded him.
His grandmother’s face appeared. She said, “Let there be light.”
Reed said, “And there was light.” By who? But how? And why? He was sent to New Earth to preserve freedom as best as he could through the Republic delegation. To protect people from the structural strangles of government. To preserve…something.
Whatever it was, Reed wasn’t going to preserve anything, now.
The oxygen time flashed in red. Five minutes left.
Reed’s breathing slowed. The universe, he thought, was given to us. There must be a reason.
His life flashed before him. Family, friends, birthdays, riding contests, babies—life. Human life. People. That would be his last images. Of the people around him.
He heard his grandmother’s voice once again. “The supreme ruler said: Let there be light, and there was light.”
It was a quote! The supreme ruler spoke light—these very stars—into existence.
“Ask for help,” his grandmother told him, “if there is something you’re afraid of. Just talk in your head.”
As he floated motionless in space, Reed decided to look at the stars for the last time and closed his eyes. He spoke to the supreme ruler with his thoughts. “I’m here. I need help. You know all this, but my grandmother said to ask anyway. Please help me.” Balls of tears formed around his eyes. Reed repeated his thoughts, “Please help me.”
The timer counted down.
“Three.”
“The supreme ruler said—”
“Two.”
“Let there be light—”
“One.”
“And there was light.”
“Oxygen fully depleted.”
Reed gasped, “Help.”
As he took his last breath, there was light.