Silent Star by Tracie Peterson Page A

she felt it was her patriotic duty to be here.”
    “Why don’t we sit just there,” Estella pointed, “right in front of them.”
    Mary Beth nodded. “That would be perfect.”
    The service started shortly after the ladies took their seats. Pastor Bailey led the congregation in several songs. Estella’s heart was moved when they began to sing one of Howard’s favorite songs.
    “ ‘I heard the bells on Christmas day, their old familiar carols play,’“ Estella sang, remembering Howard telling her that the song had been written during the darkest days of the Civil War.
    “And in despair I bowed my head, ‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said, ‘for hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.’ ”
    Estella nodded knowingly. Those could have been Andy’s words instead of Henry Longfellow’s. The organ played a small interlude and then they joined in the final verse—a verse of hope. It was as if the author had come out of a black and empty place and into the hope that God offered.
    “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: ‘God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.’  ” A tear trickled down Estella’s cheek. No, God was not dead—He didn’t sleep. He knew exactly what was happening in His world. He knew the pain of His children. He knew how they longed for peace—perfect peace.
    They concluded singing and took their seats while Pastor Bailey faced the congregation. “Many of you feel the sorrow expressed in this song. You feel God must surely be asleep—that He doesn’t care. Henry Longfellow wrote this poem during the Civil War. He needed to express the despair in his heart. His son, a lieutenant in the war, had been seriously wounded in battle and only two years earlier he’d watched his wife burn to death while he tried in vain to save her life.” He paused and looked from person to person across the congregation.
    “He knew the sorrows of war and the pain of loss—just as you do. Tonight we’ve gathered to remember our losses—our sons and brothers, husbands and friends. Were it not for the war, they’d be sitting beside us at this very moment. Still, they are with us in memory.” His words became more impassioned. “And I know in my heart they would be the first to tell you that God is not dead—He does not sleep. He’s here with us now; He’s never left us for even a moment.”
    Estella appreciated his words. It seemed God had giventhe young man a powerful understanding of the emotions and needs of the congregation. If only Andy had been there.
    “We’ve put up a Christmas tree, and tonight we’ll hang our gold stars on the branches to honor the dead. May it offer you comfort to know they are now out of harm’s way, safely at home with the Lord. May it comfort you to know that God is with you always, that He walks this dark valley with you, never leaving you for even a moment.
    “Christmas is a time to reflect on God’s gift of love: Jesus. It’s a time to remember that love and the love we have shared with those who’ve gone on before us. As we hang our stars tonight, I challenge you to remember that love rather than the pain and sorrow of loss.”
    The ceremony began with a representative from nearly every family in the congregation coming forward. As the stars were placed on the tree, Pastor Bailey read out the names.
    Estella listened, hearing the names and the muffled cries in response. Mary Beth grasped her hand, and Estella could only imagine she was thinking of Sammy. Oh, God, bring him back safely, Estella prayed.
    The organ played on softly and when the last person was headed back to his seat, Estella rose and walked to the tree. From her pocket, she pulled out a small gold star.
    Pastor Bailey looked at her strangely. “I didn’t know you had family in the service,” he whispered.
    She hung her star in plain view and turned to face the congregation as the pastor read out the name.
    “Andrew Gilbert.”
    Whispered comments went