The old man steered his rusted pick-up truck down the dusty two-lane road toward the small worn-out trailer he called home. His long white hair hung loose to his shoulders and the deep lines in his dark face were the stark and gloomy evidence of a long life of despair and hardship.

There was no happiness anymore since his devoted wife and only joy through sixty hard Winters had gone home to join their ancestors two years earlier. He was also very concerned about the reservation children’s worsening situation. With no dreams of a happy future, almost half had left school and many were now totally out of control; wandering about aimlessly and taking out their inner anger on anyone crossing their paths. Alcohol use and gang violence was spreading and so was the use of hair spray and toxic industrial glue sniffed from paper bags.

To make matters worse, he had received word that his only grandchild, a beautiful sixteen year old girl attending an off reservation public school, had cut her wrists and almost died. Too many insults from schoolmates about her long hair, shabby clothes and relentless jokes about Indian drunks had finally taken its toll. Her parents could not be located at the time and if it hadn’t been for the people at the Indian Health Clinic, she too would have gone home to their ancestors. Another precious Spirit, lost and broken, by these troubling times.

He turned onto the narrow dirt road leading to his small patch of land and said a prayer to the Great Spirit for the quick recovery of his granddaughter and for seeing him home safely one more time. As he approached his trailer he noticed a brightening in the Eastern sky and for a split second thought he had seen a huge black wolf cross in front of his truck. The large yellow gold eyes, caught quickly and momentarily in his headlights, stunned him as his heart and mind began to race. "No wolves had ever been seen in this flat and desolate area," he thought. "And what was that old legend his grandfather had told him about First Man and his faithful and constant companion, the Black Wolf?" "The wolf the Old Ones called the Watcher." "Wasn’t that the one that had saved those ancient people from starvation?" "Ah yes," he thought,... "That was just before First Man led them under the world on their long journey to the new land." "And this brief visit tonight, must surely be a sign from the Old Ones that somehow, life was going to change here too."

Convinced that First Man had sent his messenger to bring the good news, the old man continued slowly toward his home. He parked near his front door and began to get out of his truck when he noticed the large star "resting" on the Eastern horizon. "Maybe," he thought cautiously, "Some special people are coming, out of that ancient Morning Star, to help his people find a new path to a better way of life".

With renewed hope of better times for his people, and the vision of the black wolf still fresh in his mind, the old man finally made his way inside his small metal house and collapsed into his favorite chair, exhausted and drained. After a few moments of rest he looked out the front window to see if the star was still there on the horizon. He smiled when he saw it was gone. After all, it was only 10:00 PM, and the "Old Women" wouldn't begin her daily journey across the sky for many hours to come.

This had truly been a very special day. And perhaps this night, the old man would finally sleep in peace, knowing help was on its way; at last.

This is from The Morning Star Lodge Association. Please visit it. You'll be glad you did.