Thursday, August 17, 2017

A Legend, A Hero,...


Day 118



Yesterday I started a New Book by a friend’s recommendations. It is called “The Shack”. I read every day at the cemetery for an hour or more while visiting with My Sweet Beautiful Ashley.

This is part of Chapter 2. I am sharing this because while reading I had to stop because tears filled my eyes. I Looked at Mike and said, “This is exactly what Ashley Did. She Gave Her Life In Hopes Of Finding A Cure For Other Children.”
Then when I got to the part about doing something to Remember What the Princess Did, My Eyes Filled with Tears as well. Why? Because one of my fears is that no one will remember what Ashley did. Hell, not many people other than those who have followed Ashley’s care and regularly participate in our events, even knows Ashley, let alone what she did. Not Many Know She is a Hero.
People should know. They should know what it means to be a True Hero.  A Legend. Not the Heroes That the word gets over used on, like athletes and actors. People who use a talent to make money are not heroes. ASHLEY is a Legend that a lesson should be learned from. As Father said, “She Lived a Life Quite Like Jesus.”  I want the WORLD to Know & Remember Ashley and What She Did. How She Risked Her Life & Ultimately Sacrificed Her Life In the End, Because of that risk. I want everyone to Know & Remember. I Want Her Sacrifice To Be Remembered. Ashley is owed that at the VERY LEAST….




Here is the part of Chapter 2:

The foursome stopped at Multnomah Falls to buy a coloring book and crayons for Missy and two inexpensive, waterproof disposable cameras for Kate and Josh. They then decided to climb the short distance up the trail to the bridge facing the falls. There had once been a path that led around the main pool and into a shallow cave behind the tumbling water, but, unfortunately, it had been blocked off by the park authorities because of erosion. Missy loved it here, and she begged her daddy to tell the legend of the beautiful Indian maid, the daughter of a chief of the Multnomah tribe.

It took some coaxing, but Mack finally relented and retold the story as they all stared up into the mists shrouding the falling cascade. The tale centered on a princess, the only child left to her aging father. The chief loved his daughter dearly and carefully picked out a husband for her, a young warrior chief of the Clatsop tribe, whom he knew she loved. The two tribes came together to celebrate the days of the wedding feast, but before it could begin, a terrible sickness began to spread among the men, killing many.

The elders and the chiefs met to discuss what they could do about the wasting disease that was quickly decimating their warriors. The oldest medicine man among them spoke of how his own father, when aged and near death, had foretold of a terrible sickness that would kill their men, an illness that could be stopped only if a pure and innocent daughter of a chief would willingly give up her life for her people. In order to fulfill the prophecy, she must voluntarily climb to a cliff above the Big River and from there jump to her death onto the rocks below.

A dozen young women, all daughters of the various chiefs, were brought before the council. After considerable debate the elders decided that they could not ask for such a precious sacrifice, especially for a legend they weren’t sure was true.

But the disease continued to spread unabated among the men, and eventually the young warrior chief, the husband-to-be, fell ill with the sickness. The princess who loved him knew in her heart that something had to be done, and after cooling his fever and kissing him softly on the forehead, she slipped away.

It took her all night and the next day to reach the place spoken of in the legend, a towering cliff overlooking the Big River and the lands beyond. After praying and giving herself to the Great Spirit, she fulfilled the prophecy by jumping without hesitation to her death on the rocks below. Back at the villages the next morning, those who had been sick arose well and strong. There was great joy and celebration until the young warrior discovered that his beloved bride was missing. As the awareness of what had happened spread rapidly among the people, many began the journey to the place where they knew they would find her. As they silently gathered around her broken body at the base of the cliff, her grief-stricken father cried out to the Great Spirit, asking that her sacrifice would always be remembered. At that moment, water began to fall from the place where she had jumped, turning into a fine mist that fell at their feet, slowly forming a beautiful pool.

Missy usually loved the telling, almost as much as Mack did. It had all the elements of a true redemption story, not unlike the story of Jesus that she knew so well. It centered on a father who loved his only child and a sacrifice foretold by a prophet. Because of love, the child willingly gave up her life to save her betrothed and their tribes from certain death.

But on this occasion, Missy didn’t say a word when the story was finished. Instead, she immediately turned and headed for the van as if to say, “Okay, I am done here. Let’s get going.”



I am Leaving some of the story out now as to not copy the whole chapter, so this next bit is later after the Phillips Have set up camp, had dinner & dessert & It is bedtime.



Then it was back to the campsite, and after several trips to the facilities, Mack tucked the three in turn into the safety and security of their sleeping bags. He prayed briefly with Josh before moving across to where Kate and Missy lay waiting, but when it came Missy’s turn to pray she wanted to talk instead.

 “Daddy, how come she had to die?” It took Mack a moment to figure out whom Missy was talking about, suddenly realizing that the Multnomah princess must have been on her mind since they had stopped earlier.

 “Honey, she didn’t have to die. She chose to die to save her people. They were very sick and she wanted them to be healed.”

There was silence and Mack knew that another question was forming in the darkness.

 “Did it really happen?” This time the question was from Kate, obviously interested in the conversation.

“Did what really happen?”

“Did the Indian princess really die? Is the story true?”

Mack thought before he spoke. “I don’t know, Kate. It’s a legend, and sometimes legends are stories that teach a lesson.” “So, it didn’t really happen?” asked Missy.

“It might have, sweetie. Sometimes legends are built from real stories, things that really happen.”

 Again silence, then, “So is Jesus’ dying a legend?”

Mack could hear the wheels turning in Kate’s mind. “No, honey, that’s a true story. And do you know what? I think the Indian princess story is probably true too.”

Mack waited while his girls processed their thoughts.

Missy was next to ask, “Is the Great Spirit another name for God—you know, Jesus’ Papa?”

 Mack smiled in the dark. Obviously, Nan’s nightly prayers were having an effect. “I would suppose so. It’s a good name for God because he is a spirit and he is great.”

“Then how come he’s so mean?”

Ah, here was the question that had been brewing.

“What do you mean, Missy?”

“Well, the Great Spirit makes the princess jump off the cliff and makes Jesus die on a cross. That seems pretty mean to me.”

Mack was stuck. He wasn’t sure how to answer. At six and a half years old, Missy was asking questions that wise people had wrestled with for centuries.

“Sweetheart, Jesus didn’t think his Daddy was mean. He thought his Daddy was full of love and loved him very much. His Daddy didn’t make him die. Jesus chose to die because he and his Daddy love you and me and everyone in the world. He saved us from our sickness, just like the princess.”

Now came the longest silence, and Mack was beginning to wonder if the girls had fallen asleep. Just as he was about to lean over and kiss them good night, a little voice with a noticeable quiver broke into the quiet.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Will I ever have to jump off a cliff?”

Mack’s heart broke as he understood what this conversation had really been about. He gathered his little girl into his arms and pulled her close. With his own voice a little huskier than usual, he gently replied, “No, honey. I will never ask you to jump off a cliff, never, ever, ever.”

“Then will God ever ask me to jump off a cliff?”

“No, Missy. He would never ask you to do anything like that.” She snuggled

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