I was one of the Hardy Boy detectives. Remember them, or maybe your fantasy life as a child was in Nancy Drew? I was there with them, and I recall the time when we ran into Nancy, hot on the trail of solving the latest criminal mystery, “Who Shot Hawkeye?”
Hawkeye was a legend; a myth passed down from parents to their children during the telling of campfire stories. As a child, we need the sense of security that someone is always watching over us, protecting us from danger, and rescuing us when we find ourselves in trouble. Since we cannot see God, describing Him is beyond the comprehension of a seven-year-old, and Hawkeye was the hero of those tales. But, the villain of a child’s imagination ended the soaring bird’s watchful eye on the day that music died.
On the hunt for clues to find the weapon, to find Hawkeye, and to capture the villain, Nancy and us Hardy Boys crossed paths.
“How do we know that someone shot Hawkeye?” Frank asked.
“How else is a bird killed?” Nancy shot back. “Of course, Hawkeye was shot.”
“Maybe he was captured. Maybe he is still alive,” Joe offered with hope.
“No, the story is that Hawkeye fell to the ground out of the sky. He had to be shot,” Nancy announced.
“But no one has found him. Maybe he was making a dive to rescue someone,” Joe countered. “We have no body, no weapon, and no motive for the killer.”
“We do have a motive,” Frank affirmed.
“What’s that?” Nancy asked, hand on hips as if to say, How would you know?
“Hawkeye is every child’s hero. If the hero is taken out, the stories end. End of story, no hero, no story.”
“And no stories, and we may as well give up campfires.”
“And no campfires, no more S’mores.”
“And no more S’more’s and we’ll have to buy your Girl Scout cookies. Nothing like a real S’more.”
“Okay, let’s retrace our steps. When was Hawkeye last seen?”
“At the campfire at Crooked Creek. Dad was telling the story of Hawkeye rescuing Ranger Rick and his dog, Red.”
“Nah, I last heard of him during the story of ‘Dead Man’s Fall.’ Ranger Rick and Red were in a canoe and were swept over the waterfall.”
“Nuh-uh! Hawkeye plucked Ranger Rick and Red out of the avalanche when they were skiing. That was the last story I heard.”
“Well then,” said Frank, the oldest of the three. “Why don’t we make up a story about Hawkeye falling from the sky and biting the head off the villain that shot him?”
“Yeah, and then Red finds Hawkeye lying on the ground and Ranger Rick takes the bullet out of him, and he lives.”
This is how stories begin, within our imagination, the creative power that lives within everyone. All you need to do is see the light within you, through the eyes of your spirit beyond your circumstances. You have the power to create your own life story. The sandcastles of the past - your past life story - have been washed away. Build a new sandcastle every day. You have permission to do that. There is a child within everyone. Be that child. Be the child that forgives and forgets, the one that let’s go of the grievance and plays again.
Case closed.
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