Showers of Blessing ... Cosmic Curses From Above

This is a religion oriented human interest story about a small Texas community struck by disaster and the loss of many lives ... It may read like Science Fiction, but one day it may prove tragic fact.

Showers Of Blessing … Cosmic Curses From Above

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2024 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

Photo Credit: Strangesounds.org

It had been a long, miserable drought in West Texas, one that had gone on for a number of years now. The lack of rain had taken its toll on the local economy with area farmers on the verge of bankruptcy and selling off their farms. Signs pleading, “Pray For Rain,” dotted the landscape as if folks needed a reminder that their livelihoods depended upon that precious commodity of ample rainfall. Churches were packed in areas cities each and every worship service with those offering up prayerful petitions for mercy and desperately needed rain.

One small community's prayers were answered on a scorching summer evening, accompanied by a strangest of phenomenon ever to be witnessed by those who had grown up in that part of the country. Quite coincidentally, it just so happened it was a Sunday evening -- a Sunday evening in Visitation, Texas, population six hundred and sixty six -- an eerily prophetic number.

The rural West Texas community had originally been founded by a small group of hard shell Southern Baptist farmers hell bent on the notion that participation in weekly visitation was a strong indicator of Christians truly saved by grace. Folks in surrounding communities had soon learned to keep their shades down, most certainly to not answer their doors, on Tuesday nights -- visitation nights for the fervently zealous Baptists who had no qualms about driving twenty or thirty miles to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world.

Now, folks in West Texas are, basically, good people. Most would say that they are friendly people. But when other folks commence to pounding on their doors relentlessly every Tuesday night, some folk's patience begins to wear a mite thin -- their good-natured friendliness turns to grumbling and complaining.

When folks get to complaining about other folks, it stands to reason that sooner or later someone will pop off and give those individuals a sarcastic nickname descriptively befitting the manner in which they tend to rub people the wrong way -- like a burr under a saddle. Several different derogatory labels floated about for some time, ranging from folks referring to their distant neighbors as Irritators, Agitators, and Visitators …

One thing was for damn sure, those Baptists sure as hell weren't procrastinators. In time, the nickname Visitators managed to stick. After, all Visitators fit the m.o.¹ of the agitator perpetrators of their Tuesday night misery that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that evolution exists, because their mild irritation towards the over visiting Baptists had evolved into being full blown pissed off at folks who should stay at home and mind their own damn business.

The nickname whispered behind backs eventually escalated into open name calling with angry shouts of, “You Visitators, get the hell off my property and don't come back!”

Jesus had said there would be persecution. The cross was an insult that became the standard of all Christianity. And so, the small group of Southern Baptists had proudly shouldered up the name Visitators and, it was not long after that, the tiny rural community of Visitation was established.

Over the years the community grew in numbers to eventually see the Baptist segment rivaled by those owning farms in the area who were outright slain in the spirit Pentecostals attending the Baptist Church because, so to speak, it was the only Church in town, and for miles around.

To accommodate the denominational differences, a second local church was eventually built at the request, and monetary assistance, of those Baptists who could no longer take listening to their Christian brothers and sisters speaking in tongues in the midst of a good ole fire and brimstone sermon -- likely as not to just fall backwards before the entire congregation, writhing in spasmodic contortions upon the floor, whilst bubbling over with the Spirit.

The two religious factions had learned, over the years, to work well together, especially after the community's population had somehow managed to mysteriously round off at six hundred and sixty six --ironically, the prophetic number of the Beast. Come census time, every time it came around, the population had remained the same, despite deaths of the elderly, and concerted efforts to encourage dislikable folks to move away, while encouraging young married couples to consider having more children. Nothing worked and nothing changed, as the Visitation, Texas population sign remained untouched over the years right up to that coincidental Sunday evening.

The Baptists had long since called it a day, having concluded their worship services and gone home prepared to face, yet, another day of scorching heat with no hope of precipitation in the forecast. The Pentecostals, on the other hand, were a long winded bunch that firmly believed God would answer any prayer if you bombarded him with your prayers persistently enough and long enough.

Perhaps they were right. Nine O'clock was fast arriving and the fledgling young Pastor Yates, having delivered his message, felt led to continue on in exhortation and praise by leading his congregation in an additional round of prayer, intercession, and singing of hymns to the Lord. Filled with the Spirit, the young seminary educated man, and his newly acquired congregation, spontaneously began to sing an old hymn that spoke the needs of their community in a most powerful way: Showers of Blessing².

“There shall be showers of blessing:

Oh, that today they might fall,

Now as to God we’re confessing,

Now as on Jesus we call!

Showers of blessing,

Showers of blessing we need:

Mercy-drops round us are falling,

But for the showers we plead.”

The last line had not left the lips of those singing when the first drops of rain began to fall -- making that sound, of pitter-patter, pitter-patter, upon the roof of the old church that was pure music to the ears of those worshipers inside.

For a moment, a hushed quiet fell over the shocked, but deliriously ecstatic, congregation. No one had even noticed the sky darkening outside the windows, or the stars beginning to be hidden from view. According to the local forecast, the chances for rain were minimal to none at best. Matter of fact, the news had reported the night would be great for star gazing as there was to be a popularly watched meteor shower that took place this time each year.

But, there it was, it had begun to rain, and the praises of emotion filled voices began to ring out to beat the band. There was nothing strange about this occurrence, except everyone considered it to be a prayer-answered-miracle sent directly from God Himself.

What was strange, were the fireworks that had begun to light up the night sky. Lightning was a common enough thing to have with any good rain, so nobody really gave the matter a moment's thought. Had anyone actually peered intently out the windows, they might have taken note that those brilliant flashes of light, assumed to be lightning, were not emanating from within the clouds, but were the result of that annual meteor shower the news had spoken of -- a cosmic event which was predicted to be a spectacular thing to behold this year -- with meteors literally ripping through the clouds … And that sound in the distance, a thunder-like rumbling, was not thunder at all, but the sound of muffled concussions in the distance.

But, no one noticed as the beautiful sound of rain falling, not only filled the air but, permeated their spiritually programmed and emotionally distraught senses. The famous meteor shower came around each and every year, while much needed rain -- did not, and had not for quite some time now.

Religious expletives of, “Hallelujah! … Praise the Lord!” … Filled the emotionally charged air within the little church house, as their young Pastor gently began to motion for quiet that he might share a word with his flock.

“Let us pray and give thanks to the Lord for the abundance of rain we are receiving … Lord Jesus, we thank you for your mercy. We thank you for your showers of blessing witnessed this night, falling from the heavens above. We ask of you a sign … Reveal to us your will O Lord … What would you have your people --your people, called by your Name --do, to prove their love for you?”

It was in that instant that a large meteor¹ struck the ground just outside the church house doors, its concussive impact shaking the very rafters of the old building and sending the small congregation sprawling to its knees -- every one, every single soul, slain in the Spirit in the same moment of time: An entire congregation babbling in tongues.

Good ole Pentecostal God pestering determination had proven itself, once again, just as Pastor Yates had promised his parishioners at each and every service, with the encouraging liturgical affirmation of faith recital of: “Prayer works wonders!”

Never could anyone remember the Lord moving in such a majestic fashion by sending the mercy of his rain, accompanied by His judgment upon the community executed through a popularly reported meteor storm -- it was raining cats and dogs and, literally, hailing stones from the sky all at the same time.

In Joyous unison hands were raised and heads were bowed, as the small assembly spoke as one, “This has to be the Hand of God! It's a sign! The Visitation of God Almighty has come to the small community of Visitation, Texas! Praise the Lord!”

A split second later, the first meteor fireball² exploded above the small community; a dark and welcomed rainy night, suddenly burst into blinding light of day. Every eye was taken in terrified astonishment at the scene illuminating each and every window; every head raised towards Heaven, expectantly awaiting another miracle from the Hand of God.

“Praise the Lord! Thank you Jesus! Speak to our hearts! Show us your will, and your way O' Lord!”

In that very next of moments, God spoke, with the next meteor fireball¹ ripping through the roof of the old church house, taking out the first few rows of pews, to instantly engulf parishioners in hellish flames arrived from the depths of space. Those more fortunate were killed instantly, their fragile bodies driven mercilessly through the blast crater in the wooden church floor and into the ground below. Pastor Yate's wife, and two small children, were those fortunate.

As travesty heaped upon a life consuming tragedy, that first fiery impact was not all the Lord had to say that rainy night, as most of the community of Visitation was destroyed in a barrage of meteor fireballs, pummeled and razed to the ground -- with a number of its residents hammered into the earth that once had nurtured their lives, providing the means of raising cotton in West Texas.

When daybreak arrived, buildings lay in ashes and ruins of craters that marked the events of the night before, a night that would haunt the young Pastor Yates the entirety of his days: His wife and two small children -- happily sitting in their mother's lap as they did each and every service -- having become a part of the earth beneath that which was now considered as rather large meteorite lying in the depths of a smoldering crater.

He sat on the stone steps of the old church house, where he had only recently become Pastor, his hands and face flash-burned, as the pulpit, which he stood behind, had served to shield him from the fireball's furious blast. Instinctively, he had ducked at that moment of meteoric impact, but not before the flash had done its severe sunburn-like damage. Yet, he felt no pain but one -- that innermost pain of a man's unspeakable loss.

Survivors of the worship service ordeal had fled out the fronts doors of the old church as it was engulfed in flames. Not given that option, Yates had fled out the back.

Grief stricken tears streamed in floods of torrents from his eyes, as he searched both heart and mind for answers. There were none. How could there be any answer that would explain away that which had just transpired --and right before his very eyes? Did any answer exist? Was it all his fault? After all, he was leading the prayers. He was the Pastor. He was responsible! Had he, somehow, pissed God off?  Did it really matter now?  Would knowing change anything!

Flashing blue and red lights of Law Enforcement and EMS vehicles had begun to trickle in just before dawn. Reports of the devastation were known and reported several hours earlier. Proper authorities had thought it wisest to be reasonably sure the Earth ravaging meteor storm -- now reclassified as a small-asteroid storm -- had subsided, before allowing emergency crews to enter the area. Even then, it had to be considered that meteors and small asteroids do not enter Earth's atmosphere only at night, but also during the light of day. The danger of another round of cosmic impacts remained, unpredictably, high.

Pastor Yates, huddled upon the church steps, had adamantly declined medical attention, insisting that the residents of Visitation were in much more need of aid, than his worthless, miserable, hide. Despite the EMS team's concerns, he had sent them away.

____________

He wondered, as he sat there, bewildered and utterly beside himself, his mind in a be dazed stupor of total disbelief, thinking back upon all he had learned in Seminary, all that had been shared with him by so many devout and respected Theologians, Ministers, and Pastors. What they had dared to share should not have shocked him, but it had, and it did so even now. But, this, this horrible night had begun the wondering again, the wondering that he had, sincerely, believed he had managed to walked away from, and put securely behind him forever, as silly doubts and nothing else. “The just live by Faith,” not by historical facts, nor lack of tangible evidence. What was evidence, anyway, but proof? And what was proof, but a lack of faith? And what was faith, but “ the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen?”

And yet, Pastor Yates had sat down in private with some of the finest Theological Scholars, the most revered Ministers and Pastors he had ever been blessed to know. At the time, he was clueless that his own words, spoken in innocent thoughtlessness, were the express reason that these fine men had asked him if he would like to attend a private study group. It was felt that he was a good candidate for membership in the group, because of his heartfelt and earnest fervency, his zealousness, of having openly shared his personal feelings and beliefs in boldly stating that, “I desire to know truth above all else, no matter the cost.” Apparently, they had taken him at his word, and he gladly accepted their invitation.

At every meeting, Yates sat, quietly, Bible in hand, and listened intently. Everyone in the group had their Bible as well, but there were other books and documents which he had never expected to see, never knew even existed, much less spend time reading and studying --history books and copies of ancient Church records, and rare manuscripts. It was explained to him that patience is truly a virtue, and a hunger for truth always comes at a high price: The sacrifice of one's over confidence in the veracity of one's sacredly held beliefs. Such statements were puzzling to Yates, but also interesting at the same time And so, the intensive study began as a journey of exploration like none he had never known before.

Coupled with the in depth study and research of a vast variety of information, they had each confided in him, sharing their learned, researched, and studied conclusions that were many years in the making --carefully explaining the demonstrable and most credible reasons as to how and why they had arrived at each and every conclusion in full confidence that they were, in fact, correct. One topic at a time, he was asked to, either, verify or disprove their positions by simply making use of the resources at hand --to see for himself, as they say.

Yates accepted the challenge to soon find that, beyond the realm of Blind Faith⁴, he could not prove the groups conclusions wrong, but could handily verify that their assertions were spot on --a reality that was both disconcerting and disturbing to all he thought he knew and believed as Divine Truth.

Soon to be a Pastor, Yates came to understand why these scholarly men believed that which they most assuredly, but privately, believed. In order to not put too much upon his learning plate at one time, it was agreed that, for now, a limited number of topics would be shared for his personal research of verifying or disproving.

To begin with, every man in the study group vehemently shared that he did not believe Jesus was, literally, God, but a mortal man.

Next, Yates was made aware that many of the finest Biblical scholars had determined The Gospels as anonymously written manuscripts Their scholarly conclusion were also substantiated and supported by the Vatican of the RCC itself within the Catholic Encyclopedia, which confessed the authors of the texts of all four gospel accounts were unknown. The Roman Catholic Church, itself, had taken it upon itself to assign each manuscript's account the title and name whereby it is know throughout the world by Christians today.

What's more, each man had shared that he did not believe there was any scriptural evidence to support the Doctrine of The Rapture, or to support the teaching of a bodily Resurrection of the Dead. They had shown him, had proven to him --and he had verified their conclusions --that prior to the Babylonian Exile, the Jewish people had possessed no belief in any resurrection of individuals from the dead, but only held the hope taught by the early Prophets of a restoration and regathering of the dispersed peoples that comprised the nation and kingdom of Israel.

Then had come the clincher, the very point they sought to share with him, most importantly of all: Every member, to a man, shared that they did not believe in the existence of the very God and Christ they preached and taught about in leading their parishioners and students on a daily basis -- and that for years upon years.

Yates had left the group after a few months. His reasons for leaving were not that he thought the study group was wrong. Obliviously, they were right. The time he had spent in the group had been the first really great shock of his life -- shocking, disconcerting, disturbing, but exhilarating and exciting all at the same time. And yet, he just could not stay, any longer.

The problem had been that he was attending Seminary to become a Pastor, to Preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and that Gospel was based solely upon Faith -- not facts.

For the first time he had begun to wonder about all he had ever believed in, all he had ever been taught, all that he was preparing to preach and teach for the entirety of his life upon this Earth. His own words haunted him: “I desire to know truth above all else, no matter the cost.” Well, the cost was too great. His wife was depending on him. She was so proud that her husband was training to be a church Pastor.

Yet, truthfully, he had come home from Seminary, wondering which was truly more important: Faith, or facts?

When he'd accepted this first opportunity to Pastor a church, he had believed the wondering was behind him. But now? … After this? … The wondering had returned with a vengeance. Last night was not a dream, but a very real to life nightmare. People had died. His wife! His children! Now. He was wondering again … Which was truly more important: Faith, or facts?

“I desire to know truth above all else, no matter the cost.” Be true to thine own self, or be true to all those who depend upon you, who trust you, who rely upon you for leadership and sense of direction? Right now, he just didn't know. Or, could it be that he didn't want to know, what he already knew to be true?

Jolted from his grief stricken reverie, Yates looked up as a news team rolled to a stop in front of what was left of his church. A reporter stepped out with a film crew hot on her heels.

Before she could begin to introduce herself, the, normally, kind and caring Pastor Yates totally lost his religion, lashing out in Katie bar the door fashion's no holds barred: “Get the hell outta here and leave me be!”

“But, Pastor Yates … It is Yates, right? … We just need a statement from you as to your feelings regarding the events of last evening. We're filming a Human Interest piece on the tragedy here in Visitation.”

“Can't you hear, lady! I said! Get the hell outta here!”

“But Mr. Yates, we have a job to do, and the public has a right to know what happened here.”

“Oh yeah! Well what was your job to do, last night when people needed to know that your famously reported annual meteor shower was packing killer meteor fireballs falling from the sky like exploding guided missiles!”

“I'm sorry, Pastor Yates, we just didn't know. Our sources gave us no hint of anything beyond the meteor shower display people witness each and every year. We had no idea this horrendous tragedy was about to take place. Nothing like this has ever happened before, anywhere.”

“Well, It's damn sure happened now! … And you heartless a******s have no right coming here asking for all the gory details! … Not while the ashes of people and buildings are still smoking and smoldering! … Are you people human, at all? Give folks here a few days to gather their wits about themselves, have a moment to themselves to grieve and mourn. Give us time to bury our dead! Then, maybe, come back and ask all your important questions. For the last time, get the hell outta here! Now!”

As the news team loaded up and drove away, Pastor Yates questioned his judgment in running the team off. He knew good and well that they were just going on down the road to poke their microphones, like sharpened sticks, into the heart's misery and pain of some other poor sap, and that sap was likely someone he knew and cared about.

“Should've kept my cool, but I couldn't do it. Damn it! I owe a debt of responsibility to this community, to these people, to my friends and neighbors. What the hell! It's a done deal now, for sure.”

Wondering … Wondering … Wondering ... That persistent thought of wondering … Faith, or facts … Faith, or facts … Which is more important: Faith, or facts?

____________

He looked Heavenward in pleading desperation, but received no answers. Why! How could this possibly be God's will, God's work, God's Hand? But, every good Christian was taught that such tragedies are God's will, and a part of His plan of Salvation for all Mankind, and he was no different. Why was that, he wondered, struggling to contain the angry and blasphemous thoughts that were raging within his heart and mind: What kind of God would allow this to happen to His people? What God would do this to His people! It was simply more than he could stand, than any man could endure, but he must. He had to for the sake of his surviving parishioners, his community, and his deceased family.

It was but small consolation that, at least, his family had not suffered with those --literally incinerated alive --whose bodies lay in the ashes and rubble of the old church house --their church home. Those poor souls need no longer live in fear of any Sinner's Hell. Hell had come to see them, and in a most cruel and personal fashion.

“My God! … Sweet Jesus! I'm about to preach my own family's funeral! What kind of sick s**t is that? What man should have to see the lives of his wife and kids swept away in an instant --that proverbial twinkle of an eye! What kind of God are you!”

The tears came gushing in torrents again now, as he sat upon the steps, weeping in heaves, uncontrollably. A few folks came by to check on him, and offered their condolences, but, fact was, most of them were as shook up as he was, because everyone had lost someone they, either, loved, knew, or had been friends and neighbors with for years. A few had been at the service last night, surviving the arrival of cosmic curses from above --a real to life Hell on this Earth.

The rain clouds having departed, as with any summer morning, eventually, the sun rose high enough in the sky for the rising heat to stir him from the depths of self pity, grief, and remorse. Wiping the tears from his eyes, momentarily, he gazed around at what had been a small, but thriving, community of hard working folks, a community now mostly reduced to smoking ruins.

Miraculously, the Baptist Church had survived the night, unscathed. Later that morning, Yates had learned that, tragically, the church's widowed Pastor had not survived. He was found dead in his home a few miles outside of Visitation, apparently killed by a stray meteor that had rocketed through the roof of his home, and, in the same instant, had plunged, like a cannon ball, through the elderly man's chest, to then burying itself securely within the concrete floor of the room, beneath the bed in which he was sleeping.

Quite obviously, God's Divine will included the Baptist as well as the Pentecostal faith. But, at least, the Baptists had a building to worship in, no Pastor, but a fine old building. They would be needing an interim Pastor. The question was who. The community had always pulled together in times of trouble. Now was no different. He couldn't stand Baptists and their once saved always saved mumbo-jumbo, but they were people too, his friends and neighbors. If they asked, he would help in any way he could, even stoop to refraining from speaking in tongues in their presence, but he'd be damned if stopped raising his hands to praise God and His precious Son, Jesus Christ.

There it was again --whispering at the back of his mind --that nagging wondering that had returned like gangbusters as of last night.

There's power in liturgical affirmation, he reassured himself, once more. Say the words, mean the words, live the words: “Prayer works wonders! … “'The just live by Faith,' not by historical facts, nor lack of tangible evidence. What was evidence, anyway, but proof? And what was proof, but a lack of faith? And what was faith, but 'the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen?'”

Smoke filled his eyes from the burned ruins of nearby buildings, helping to hide the reasons for all his many tears of grief, disappointment, and total lack of understanding, exactly, what had transpired only a few short hours ago. It was time to pray, seek out God's will, but … He wondered ...

And then, that lovely song began to permeate his mind again, just as it had the night before, as he and his congregation sang so joyously together:

“There shall be showers of blessing:

Oh, that today they might fall,

Now as to God we’re confessing,

Now as on Jesus we call!

Showers of blessing,

Showers of blessing we need:

Mercy-drops round us are falling,

But for the showers we plead.”

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the name of the old Baptist Church caught his attention as it never had before: New Hope Baptist Church. Perhaps, there was some hope left after all, there had to be, and he had work to do for the Lord.

But, inside his heart and mind, the wondering was winning out. It had, honestly, had him since those private conversations where men who trusted him to discretion had shared the truth with him. No matter how hard he had tried to convince himself otherwise, he had never been the same, since those nights of study, spent with men he respected more than any other men in the world.

Seminary had been the best of experiences for him, in the long run. Seminary (derived from the word semen) is where the seeds are planted in the hearts and minds of men. On rare occasions, Seminary is where the seeds are plowed under, in order that a crop of truth might have a chance to take root in the hearts and minds of a young men, who had their entire lives ahead of them, and his scholarly friends knew it. He owed those older, wiser, men a great debt.

But, right now, the folks of Visitation, Texas needed an ounce or two of hope, false or not, and he was damned sure not going to deprive them of it in their time of direst need. He owed as much to his own wife and kids. His wife had been a true believer. He would have never had the heart to tell her the truth. The kids? Had God seen fit to allow them to live, he would have found a way to break the news to them, teach them the truth, when they got older.

“Maybe God knew that,” Yates mumbled to himself. “Nawwww! … No way in Hell!”

Within the very core of his mind, neurons that had been running in different directions of rough misfiring for years, had found a source of high octane premium fuel: Anger. No longer running on empty but on Angry-Ethyl each and every neuron had begun firing in mind roaring unison. And, that was when he knew the wondering was over. The concrete of his wondering mind had finally set in confidence hardened stone.

Liturgical affirmation: There ain't no God … There ain't no God … There ain't no damn God!

Taking a deep breath, the young Pastor stood to his feet, attempted to dust off his smoke and ash soiled clothes, and set off to give his community a few ounces of hope, and preach to them the mercy and goodness of Jesus Christ, their Lord.

As Yates walked methodically along, his heart beleaguered by weight of deepest sadness, his mind driven by staunchly tenacious determination, he directed his steps towards a small group of community folks down the road a ways, an ironic thought suddenly struck Yates as hilariously funny -- even in the midst of all this tragedy. After all the many years, the ever unchanging population of Visitation, Texas had changed overnight. Visitation, Texas no longer had a population of six hundred and sixty six.

“Maybe there is a God,” his self spoken speech having gained the power of momentum. “But if there is, he's one distantly aloof, heartless and merciless, SOB!”

The truth? If Rome wasn't built in a day, surely, the truth could wait until another day -- a better and brighter day … At the moment, he had broken hearts to comfort and reassure, hope to share with the grieving, and wavering souls to save.

But, some tomorrow, maybe months or a year down the road, after the smoke cleared, hearts having begun mending, lives beginning to return to some sense of a new normal, Pastor Yates would resign as Pastor of any and every Church, his preaching days over.

Just plain ole Robert Yates would start a new and quiet life, without hype of false hope or promises, because he had arrived at the answer to his self posed question. Which is more important: Faith, or facts. The answer is always facts, because established and proven facts are synonymous with truth. And, Robert Yates had grown tired of living a lie ...

(Written December 2^nd, 2016 --Expanded & Revised January 16^th, 2024))

Author's Note

Evidential Proofs that the event portrayed in this fictional story could happen some day, some where at a cosmic catastrophe near you:



1 m.o. — modus operandi: a particular way or method of doing something, especially one that is characteristic or well-established.

2 Showers Of Blessing — a popular church hymn written by Daniel Webster Whittle


1 Meteor & Asteroid Impacts --Small, metre-sized asteroids strike Earth every couple of weeks. They add to our understanding of asteroid populations, of fireballs and their makeup, but they aren’t a big priority when it comes to Planetary Defence because they pose no real danger.

The objects we are most concerned about are those ‘goldilocks asteroids’ that are large enough to do harm if they impact, and there are enough of them out there that we know, at some point, they will. The infamous Chelyabinsk impact in February 2013 and the Tunguska impact in June 1908 fall into this category, and when it comes to discovering these asteroids, there’s still a lot of work to be done. https://www.esa.int/Space_Safety/Planetary_Defence/The_sixth_asteroid_impact_we_saw_coming


On February 15, 2013, an asteroid slammed into Earth's atmosphere at nearly 70,000 kilometers per hour. Almost the size of a tennis court, it blazed brilliantly in the sky as if a second sun had appeared and begun racing from southeast to northwest. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-asteroid-blast-that-shook-the-world-is-still-making-an-impact1/

Scientists find meteorite in Texas from fireball that exploded with the force of 8 tons of TNT: At any given moment, the Earth is being bombarded by pieces of organic space debris known as meteoroids. Fortunately, most meteoroids are tiny, with a typical size ranging from a grain of sand and a pebble, and they don't typically pose a threat to the planet or the life on it.

But on Feb. 15, a much larger meteoroid slammed into Earth's atmosphere, and fragments of it rained down across Texas. NASA's Johnson Space Center confirmed the event in a statement, which noted that the meteoroid likely measured about 2 feet (0.6 meters) across and weighed about 1,000 pounds (454 kilograms) when it entered the atmosphere. https://www.space.com/nasa-confirms-meteor-over-texas-feb-15-2023
Meteorite: 10-ton Rock Responsible For Fireball In Western Canada: Investigation of the fireball that lit up the skies of Alberta and Saskatchewan on Nov. 20 has determined that an asteroid fragment weighing approximately 10 tons entered the Earth's atmosphere over the prairie provinces last Thursday evening https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/11/081125141602.htm#

2 Meteor Fireballs --The largest meteor to impact Earth since 2013 went unnoticed when it landed on Feb. 6, as tracking near-Earth objects is improving but still notoriously difficult … The Feb. 6 fireball fell into the ocean off the coast of Brazil and released energy roughly equivalent to 13,000 tons of TNT. This is significantly less than the Chelyabinsk impact, which injured more than 1,000 people with the equivalent of 500,000 tons of TNT, but it was at least 26 times as powerful as any of the three impacts NASA reported in February 2015. https://www.csmonitor.com/Science/2016/0224/Giant-meteor-hits-Earth.-Why-no-one-saw-it


Meteor Fireball Explodes Over 7 U.S. States: 'Green Pulsing Ball of Light': Hundreds of people across the northern United States and Canada saw a fireball crashing through the night sky on Sunday night, lighting up the dark for a split second.

Reports of the fireball came from 197 residents across Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Ontario at around 9:51 p.m. local time on Sunday, February 19, according to the American Meteor Society.

Videos taken across the region show the fireball falling through the sky, flaring brightly before fading into darkness.

"My 8 year old son also [saw] it, and it was so bizarre it scared him," wrote one observer in Indiana on the American Meteor Society website. https://www.newsweek.com/meteor-bright-light-video-pictures-1782604

3 Injuries & Deaths Resulting From Meteor Impacts or Explosions--We Have The First-Ever Credible Evidence of Someone Killed by a Falling Meteorite: On 22 August 1888, according to multiple documents found in the General Directorate of State Archives of the Presidency of the Republic of Turkey, a falling meteorite hit and killed one man and paralysed another in what is now Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdistan Region, Iraq … "This event is the first report ever that states a meteor impact killed a man [..] with the support of three written manuscripts that report an event in such detail up to our knowledge," the researchers wrote in their paper … "Due to the fact that these documents are from official government sources and written by the local authorities, even grand vizier himself as well, we do not have any suspicion on their reality." https://www.sciencealert.com/we-finally-have-credible-evidence-of-someone-being-killed-by-a-falling-meteorite


A "super bolide" exploded over Russia in 2013, injuring 1,500 people and damaging hundreds of buildings. It may not be a once-in-a-century event as previously thought. https://www.cnet.com/science/space/its-been-10-years-since-the-biggest-meteor-impact-in-living-memory/

4 Blind Faith --belief without true understanding, perception, or discrimination. http://www.dictionary.com/browse/blind-faith

Reviews

[Thomas W Case]

Powerful work. In depth and poignant.