It had been a special hot summer day. I spent the whole day wading in a shaded Ozarks creek, fishing and catching crawdads. I used to do that as a child many years ago. I still do it today. I decided to stretch out on the creek bank and take a nap. I fell asleep listening to nature sounds. It was wonderful.
I hated to leave that wonderful place away from the traffic and noise of the city. I am back home and sitting on my front porch now. Tall, fluffy clouds are gathering on the horizon. The bottom layer is shades of pink and orange. It is like a painter mixing colors on his palette.
A beautiful sunset slowly begins sinking to the earth. A lone whip-poor-will calls from the nearby woods. It is testing the silence. Another one down the road answers back. Frogs, crickets, and cicadas begin their nighttime chorus. Bats dive for insects in the fading night sky.
The darkness slowly settles in, and I see it. A tiny, twinkling orb. First one and then another. Suddenly, the summer night is full of a myriad of twinkling lights. I sit back in my chair to watch the performance.
As I gaze at the slowly pulsating lights, my mind travels back over 70 years to grandma and grandpa’s farm. As the adults sat on the porch talking, we kids ran about, catching these jewel-green sparks that pierced the dark. We put them in old Mason jars Grandma used for canning food from the garden. Grandpa punched holes in the lids for the fireflies.
It was a magical time racing about filling your jar. Our eyes twinkled as much as the stars. Laughter pierced the silent night. I wonder how many other adults are outside sitting on the porch right now and feeling the stirring pleasures of childhood that they felt when they were young and chasing fireflies?
As I watch, my mind wanders to one summer night at the cabin we once owned next to the Mark Twain National Forest in southwest Missouri. An approaching storm was causing our wind chimes that hung in nearby trees and around our porch to play music. The sound awakened me from a deep sleep.
The alarm clock by the bed told my sleepy eyes it was 2:30 a.m. My feet hit the floor to go check out what was happening. I walked through the dark cabin and looked out the windows into the night. The blinking lights of fireflies were everywhere. That night, they seemed to be a lot bigger than usual. It was almost as if the window I was looking out was a magnifying glass I was looking through.
I stood there in wide-eyed amazement and watched them. They were high in the trees, down by the creek, up by the road, and way down in the valley. How could I see them that far away?
Maybe the sky was darker than usual that night, causing their lights to look like they were shining brighter. It could have been because they were brighter to impress their lady friends. At the time, I didn’t care what the answer was. I just enjoyed the show.
As the storm approached closer, lightning lit up the dark sky. It was not streaks of lightning. It was more like a burst of light. It was like gigantic fireflies joining the smaller ones to add to this special night.
I do not know how long I stood there watching. Eventually, the rains came, and the lightning and the fireflies ended their show. I went back to bed and lay there listening to the rain on the roof. I was grateful the storm had awakened me. I drifted off to sleep while thinking of fireflies.
The neighbor’s dog barks and my mind stops thinking about those memories. I am still on my front porch. I am thinking about that old Mason jar with holes in the lid I used on the farm. For many years, I had saved it for my kids to use when they enjoyed the magic of fireflies.
They are married and in their 50s now. I hope they have good memories of summer nights and twinkling lights. They must have because they passed that tradition on to our grandkids. They also enjoyed this age-old mysterious performance. Instead of jars with holes in the lid, they used plastic firefly houses. That was not quite the same to me. Oh well, they enjoyed it anyway.
Most of our grandchildren are married now or soon will be. They all live in other states. I hope they pass the joy of fireflies on to their kids. I hope they show them it is much better than all the technology kids are involved in today. I hope they tell them about God and how He created the tiny firefly and all of nature for them to enjoy.
One summer night last year, I watched as our two neighbor buddies, 4-year-old Hudson and 3-year-old Lilly, ran around their yard and our yard, catching fireflies. I sat there smiling and remembering the memories my family had made doing that. Then I went out to help Lilly. She was better at catching them than I ever was.
It will not be long until their twin sisters, Shay and Micah, join them in the fun on summer nights.
They call us Grandma and Papa Larry. They bring a smile to our wrinkled faces. We sit on the porch and watch them. What a blessing they are to both of us. Kids need those fireflies. They also need everything else that nature has to offer them more than they need all the electronics and other stuff kids are hung up on so much these days. I could say the same for a lot of adults. On this summer night, as if saying goodnight, the tiny sparks blink off one by one. I get up from the porch and walk toward my barn. I want to see if I can find a 70-year-old Mason jar with holes in the lid. I would like to pass it on to some special kids next door.
