Not One but Two

 

            Menander was the only child and grew up knowing only comfort, wealth, luxury, and always getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. On occasion he would listen to himself grumbling and complaining that he was bored, that he no friends, and wishing that he could do something that would distract him and occupy his ever-active mind. After three or four times of this type of complaint, he began to receive a back hand slap from his father with a reminder to never complain because he had more than most children his age.

               Whenever he received this sort of chastisement and correction, he would hide away in his room, continue complaining to himself, and wondering what life was like for other children who did not know or appreciate comfort and wealth. He pulled himself from the floor, flopped onto his bed and stared into the ceiling, feeling a combination of frustration and boredom.

               “Ugh, time to take a shower,” he said to himself. Setting the temperature slightly above body temperature, he stepped out, dried himself, dressed and descended to the kitchen to cut himself a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping. He sat alone at the kitchen counter having no desire to join his parents in the sitting room to listen to more chastisement and words about being thankful.

               He finished his dessert; hand washed his plate and fork and returned them to their appropriate places in the cupboards. Knowing that it would not be wise to simply disappear for the evening, he peeked into the sitting room, said goodnight, and thanked his mother for the cheesecake. Padding upstairs, he brushed his teeth, slipped into his oversize bed, and immediately fell asleep to dream about a life without comfort, safety, or loving parents.

               Menander woke the next morning to find himself in a lumpy, thin, and cold bed, surrounded by dozens of children in similar beds in the orphanage. Vigorously rubbing his face, he rose from his cold and uncomfortable state to get dressed in his state supplied, stiff and scratchy clothing. Like soldiers in a barracks, he and the other children walked in unison to the dining hall to eat a small portion of lukewarm porridge and cool water.

               “Wow, so this is what it is like,” he thought. “I am so confused. Has everything else been simply a dream? I guess I’ll just go along with what everyone else is doing and see how the rest of the day plays out.” He finished his porridge, rose from his seat and joined the rest of the children in the play yard behind the building. A rousing game of kickball started where Menander was chosen first to slowly watch the two teams build up, one obviously stronger than the other.

               The two dozen children ran in an aggressive manner, each team scoring the occasional point. Menander watched Boris, the school bully viciously kick and punch another student for being stupid and ugly. “Wow, that is just so wrong,” he said to himself. “Do I dare stand up to Boris or simply let it go. I know I could take him down and teach him a lesson. Now is the time to do the right thing.”

               He stopped running, aligned himself directly behind Boris, out of his line of sight, and rushed up to him to kick him directly in the groin and watch him collapse to the ground in agony. “Don’t pick on the little kids,” he growled at the large and ignorant fellow student. “Bad actions always lead to bad actions coming upon you.”

               The kickball game came to an end with Menander’s team winning, which was immediately followed by their return into the building for lunch. All twenty-four children shuffled into the dining hall and seated themselves upon the cold metal benches to wait until lukewarm soup and baloney sandwiches were ready. The lunch bell sounded, they rose from their places and stood in line to receive their plastic molded lunch trays laden with bland and lukewarm food.

               He finished his lunch, returned his tray to the collection window and was immediately confronted by the headmaster of the orphanage. “Menander, I need you to come with me,” he said. “I saw what you did to Boris and we need to talk.”

               “Yes, sir,” Menander answered. Boy and headmaster walked through the dining hall, ascended the stairs and entered the headmaster’s office.

               “I understand your desire for justice and kindness for the weak,” he said, “but we cannot have violence like that. I have been speaking to Boris about his abuse of the other students, so please allow me to do my job and don’t assault the other students.  Oh, one other thing. There is a husband and wife that are coming in this afternoon and they are interested in meeting with you. Please be ready by three o’clock to meet them. One of the secretaries will come for you when they arrive.”

               “Yes, sir, I will be ready,” he answered. “I think I will go take a short nap so I am rested and attentive when they arrive. Thank you, sir.”

               Menander removed his shoes, collapsed on his bed, and fell asleep, while the other children came and went from the bedrooms. At two-forty-five, the alarm on his watch sounded, pulling him from sleep. “Ah, perfect,” he said. “This will give me a few minutes to freshen up, use the bathroom, and be ready to meet these people.”

               As he rose from his bed, he slipped on his shoes, did those things that needed to be done to then return to sit on the side of his bed and wait for the secretary to retrieve him for the meeting. He and the secretary walked into the headmaster’s office to see the young couple waiting for him facing the other direction. He walked in, introduced himself, shook hands with the husband and exchanged a hug with the wife. The husband slid a chair from the opposite side of the room to face them in order to have a conversation to learn about one another.

               With his mind swirling, he stared at their faces and was stirred inside as she realized that these were the people from his dreams about a large, comfortable, wealthy home filled with love, protection, and kindness. The conversation between Menander, the husband, the wife, and the headmaster lasted for a few minutes over an hour.

               “Menander, you should go to your bedroom, pack all of your things, and we will take care of the paperwork for you to join the Johannsen’s in their home. Be quick and have everything ready. When the paperwork is complete, we will have all of your possessions brought to their car so you can move on with your life. Congratulations, my boy.”

               He could feel himself tingling inside, wondering if the house in his dreams would look anything like the Johannsen’s home. “I guess I’ll find out in a few minutes,” he thought to himself. “Yes, sir, I’ll go right away and be ready. Thank you.” Menander once again shook hands with the husband and exchanged hugs with the wife.

               He sprinted up the stairs, entered his bedroom, and quickly packed all of his possessions and clothing into a suitcase and two boxes. Trembling with excitement, he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the Johannsen’s to arrive and go to his forever home. He stood up, did a bit of stretching, said goodbye to the other orphans, and promised to write them on occasion with the expectation that they would write back as well.

               He and the Johannsen’s loaded his things into the trunk of their car and drove away, as he looked back one last time at the orphanage that he thought would always be his home until he reached adulthood. The car pulled into the driveway in a wealthy neighborhood and with a thrill in his heart, he realized that the house from his dreams was an identical match to this home before him.

               Mr. Johannsen carried his two boxes and Menander carried his suitcase to follow them up the stairs into his large and comfortable bedroom with its own private bathroom.

               “You can place your suitcase on the bed, Menander,” Mrs. Johannsen said. “After lunch, you and I can unpack and help you get settled.” She took him by the hand and the three of them walked down the stairs into the kitchen for a robust and warm lunch.

               “Thank you so much for choosing me,” Menander said. “I have been dreaming of having my own family for several years now. Please forgive me if I don’t get everything right. It will take me some time to adjust and learn what a family feels like.”

               “Don’t concern yourself with that, young man,” Mr. Johannsen said. “We understand that this will be a time of learning and transition for you. We will work through this together. Both you and I and Mrs. Johannsen all have a great deal to learn. I know this will be a good time for all of us.”

               “Oh, my goodness, this food is so good,” he said. “The food at the orphanage is usually lukewarm and very plain. I know I will be saying thank you many, many times as I learn to be part of the family.”

               “We are very happy that you are here with us,” Mrs. Johannsen said. “Let’s finish our lunch and then you and I can unpack your things, help you get settled and see if there is anything you need to feel at home. We can always go shopping any time there is a need.”

               The meal was complete, Menander and Mrs. Johannsen ascended the stairs, unpacked his things and embraced in a warm, mother son type of hug. “I think we should go shopping to buy you some new clothes,” she said. “This will be so much fun. I am so excited to take on this responsibility as your mother and help you feel comfortable. Let’s go talk to Mr. Johannsen and make a trip to a few stores.”

Choosing Life

 

            Little Sarah stood at the edge of the playground watching the other children interact and wishing that she had someone to care for her, to provide for her, and to love her like these other children who had two parents. Fighting back the tears that seemed to always overtake her when she watched the other children, she dropped into a sitting position on one of the logs that surrounded the play area.

               The laughter, the joy, and the delight she could see in the faces of the other children made her wonder what a life like theirs would be like to experience. She watched as the children departed one at a time with their parents until she sat alone in the dark playground, wishing for someone to love and to love her back. The darkness eventually grew so deep that she wandered off toward the inner city to find the alley in which she and her mother lived.

               Crawling under a pile of cardboard boxes, she ached with hunger and loneliness, wondering exactly where her mother was but at the same time, knowing that she was with a stranger who paid money for her attention. She could hear the shuffling of feet not too far from her obscure location, fearful to look out and see who or what was approaching.

               “If I look out and they see me,” she thought, “they’ll most likely hurt me like they hurt Mommy.” Sarah remained motionless, kept her breathing shallow, and waited until there was only silence. The warm of the next morning began to creep upon her and she carefully peeked out from beneath the cardboard to see her mother’s legs sticking out from beneath another pile of cardboard.

               “Oh good, there’s Mommy,” she thought. “I should go wake her and see if we can buy some food.” Carefully scanning around the alley, she saw no one else, no activity, and continued to ache from hunger, until she found the bravery to leave her protected space to approach her mother.

               She rose to her feet, stretched, and relished the gentle touch of the morning sun. “Oh, that is so much better,” she thought. “I’ve been so cold for so long, I hope Mommy is awake and won’t be angry with me for bothering her.” She carefully slid the cardboard from where she believed her mother’s face would be. As her face was exposed, her eyes were wide and her mouth was smiling.

               “Oh, thank goodness, there you are Sarah,” she said. “Come, let’s go to the grocery store and buy some breakfast. I’m sure you are as hungry or even hungrier than I am.” Pulling herself to her feet, she took Sarah by the hand and Mother and daughter left the alley to walk several blocks and enter the grocery store. “How does pastry sound for breakfast along with some juice and some fruit?” she asked.

               “That would be very good, Mommy,” Sarah answered. The desired items were obtained and then paid for at the checkout. Sarah could feel herself trembling inside at the delight of eating fresh, healthy food, and overjoyed to know that her mother was not angry with her and safe after whatever she had done that night before. Sarah took her mother by the hand; they walked two blocks to a nearby park and sat at the bench beneath a large maple tree.

               The two ate in silence and Sarah remembered her thoughts and fears from the day before as she watched the other children play in the park. “Why don’t I have any friends, Mommy?” she asked. “I see other children playing in the park and they have many other children to play with and be with. I feel like I hardly ever see you. Thank you for buying me breakfast. I’ve been very hungry for a long time.”

               “Yes, of course, my dear,” she answered. “When we have finished our breakfast, we should walk to the nearest public restroom and clean up. Maybe after that we can go to the waterfront and watch the boats and the birds. It is important to look at beautiful things whenever we have the chance.”

               “That sounds wonderful, Mommy,” she said. “Can we spend the rest of the day together? Will you be gone all night again or can we be together this evening?”

               “Yes, we can spend the day together,” she said. “I’m sorry, I will be busy tonight. I need to work so that we have money to buy food. I’m sorry that we don’t have a home to live in or a safe place to live. If I continue working as much as I can, maybe one day we will have our own home.”

               Her mother adjusted her backpack, took Sarah by the hand, and the two of them left the park on a short journey to the public restroom. “Here, honey,” she said. “We both need to wash our hair, wash our faces and our hands. I bought some wipes that will help us look presentable and blend into society like everyone else.”

               After cleaning themselves up, they walked to the waterfront and, as her Mommy had suggested, they watched the boats and the birds. “Okay, honey, we should go buy another meal because I need to go back to work in a few hours. After we eat, I will bring you back to your place in the alley and make sure that you’re safe.”

               They entered the alley, avoiding any interaction with the few people that were already there. “Stay hidden beneath the cardboard until I come back later,” she said. “Don’t let anyone see you, or someone may hurt you or take you away. That would be terrible.” Sarah slid under her pile of cardboard but first hugged her Mommy before she fell asleep.

               The next seven years became a blur in Sarah’s mind as she watched her mother continue to grow old and feeble. “I’m getting old, Sarah,” her mother said. “You have grown up to be a lovely young lady. I hate to say this but you will need to start working like I’ve been working. You should have no trouble earning plenty of money to help support us.”

               At seventeen years old, Sarah traveled with her mother to a street corner that was filled with many other young women, all working the same trade as her mother. She cringed at the idea of being with complete strangers and allowing them to use her simply to earn money. The evening began to grow dark and Sarah watched her mother climb into the car of a middle-aged man. “Oh, this is so bad,” she thought. “I really don’t want to be doing this. Do I have any other choice?”

               She wandered around the street corner, interacted with the other girls, made friendly conversation and watched as one girl after another disappeared into the cars of middle-aged men. Still feeling sick and objectified, she slid into the shadows of a nearby alley until a police car arrived. “Oh, perfect,” she thought. “I know they can help me.”

               She hurried from the alley, waved at the police car and begged the officers to rescue her from her horrible plight. “Officers, please help me,” she said. “I’m only seventeen years old and my mother is forcing me to do this work. Can you take me somewhere safe?”

               “Yes, of course,” one of them said. “Here, I’ll open the back door and we’ll take you somewhere safe. Technically, you are a child and should not be out here doing this.” A wave of relief passed through Sarah’s trembling body as she slid into the back seat of the police car.

               “Thank you so much,” she said. “This just feels so wrong. I hate the idea of giving myself to strange, middle-aged men who only care about themselves.” The car slowly pulled away and after parking, Sarah walked with the two police officers into the nearest police station, where she sat in a small room with a female police officer to tell the story of her life, while she took notes.

               “You don’t need to worry any longer, young lady,” she said. “When we are done talking here, CPS will send someone over to help you find somewhere safe and clean to live. Everything is going to be alright. There are many good, kind people who take care of those who are in need. You’ll be staying with one of these families. We’ll stay in touch as we finish your paperwork.”

               “Oh, good, thank you so much,” Sarah said. “I have never slept in an actual bed before or taken a shower in a regular home bathroom. I have always dreamed about being with kind and good people. My mother means well but this is all she knows.”

               “Here, come with me,” the female officer said. “You can wait in a different room until CPS arrives and they will take you to your new home. It should be less than an hour. I am so glad that you approached the two police officers and asked for help. Your life will be so much better and safe now.”

               Sarah sat and waited for less than an hour until she was introduced to the CPS worker, who drove her across town to a beautiful home with a middle-aged couple who warmly welcomed her into their home.

               “Come with me, Sarah,” the woman said. “I’ll show you your room and your bathroom. We will be having dinner in about thirty minutes. That should give you enough time to shower and change into comfortable clothes. Come downstairs when you are finished. We are so happy that you are here.”

Unfaithful

 

            Vanessa stood at the edge of the overpass, watching the unending line of traffic flow beneath her as the final hours of heavy traffic for the day reached its peak flow. She knew that her wait time would be several hours before she had the opportunity for truck and trailer to pass beneath her at an accelerated speed. Repeatedly checking her watch, she began to feel frustrated and began to pace, wondering about the point of it all, and if there was any purpose to continuing her insipid existence.

               Like a cyclone, her mind transitioned from one thought to the next to the next and ended up dwelling upon those she knew, former friends, co-workers, and those whom she said she loved and who thought they were loved by her. After pacing for at least an hour, she noticed that the flow of traffic had begun to thin out, allowing for faster travel time.

               “Okay, now is the time,” she said to herself. Stopping in her tracks, she bent at the waist, rested her hands above her knees, took several deep breaths and began to wonder how she got to this place with this mindset. The sun had slowly crept below the distant mountains and no longer gave good visibility for her as she stood on the overpass.

               “Darkness, this is a good thing,” she muttered. “I wish there was a better way to handle this rather than involving the driver of whatever vehicle happens to be passing by.” Standing back up to full height, she slowly approached the center of the overpass, leaned over the handrail and as if time decided to shift into slow motion, she watched the dark sky overhead with its few stars and a sliver of moon.

               Immediately regretting her decision to take the leap, she knew that there was no turning back at this point. The violent connection of her back and the blacktop below carried a horrific crunching sound to her ears, followed by the sound of an approaching truck and trailer. Though she could see nothing but dark sky overhead, she felt a wave of remorse cross over her as a series of tires destroyed her now broken body.

               She experienced only two sources of sensory input. The sound of her body breaking and the sight of the dark sky overhead, immediately followed by the red glow of tail lights as everything then faded to black. Though she lacked all other sensory input, her memories continued, thoughts of good and happy times passed through her mind until everything was gone.

               She thought she could feel anger, frustration, and disappointment fill every corner of her being to then rise above the tragic traffic scene, vaguely lit by tail lights and a sliver of moon. All movement stopped, all sound ceased to exist, and she was immediately joined by two very handsome young men who helped her rise to her feet, ascend into the sky, and look down upon her broken body on the blacktop.

               “Oh wow,” she thought. “I now realize that I have done a very bad thing. There is no going back and I have no idea what to expect from these two beautiful young men. I wonder where I’m going now.” As she and they continued their path upward, she could feel and see a beautiful white light embrace her, giving a feeling of peace, love, and joy but at the same time a feeling of disappointment.

               When they finally stopped moving, she noticed that there were hundreds of others, just like her approaching in the same way, and embraced by the same beautiful light. She and her two guides watched and waited for what seemed an undefinable long time. As they waited, she watched the others who had arrived either continue their ascent or begin a descent.

               “From everything I’ve been taught, I know what is happening here,” she thought. “Honestly, I really don’t know what direction I’ll be traveling or for how long I’ll be floating here.” As she waited, one of her guides slipped a mask over her face and she could feel her two guides take her by her hands and lead her somewhere.

               The three of them settled onto what felt like soft earth, or possibly sand. In an instant, the mask was removed from her face to reveal the face of a middle-aged man looking very sad. “Hello Vanessa,” he said. “You should not be here now. There was still so much for you to do. You abandoned your post, your responsibilities, and those who loved you. You gave up, you gave into your passions, and chose the easy path, which will not end well for you.”

               The sound of his words rang in her ears and at the same time she could feel what should have been her heart becoming tight and dry and disappointed in her failure to do the very best she could and her missed opportunities. She received a warm hug from her new visitor and from her two guides, to then realize that she stood alone, feeling sad and empty. She noticed many others a good distance away from her, moving toward a small hill glowing with light and she began to put in effort to join them in their movement.

               She began counting with each step she took to suddenly stop as if she ran into an invisible wall that prevented any further movement. The many others around her continued moving and she realized that there were others behind her that stopped moving before she stopped. “Ugh, now what,” she thought. Dropping to her knees, she continued to look upon the glowing hill and the inviting feeling of love it emanated. “I guess that’s it,” she thought. “I really want to continue moving up but now I’m stuck. What am I supposed to do? I guess I have my memories, both good and bad. I should spend some time thinking about what things I didn’t finish, people I didn’t reconcile with, and goals I never reached.”

               Rolling her head, stretching her arms, stretching her legs, she stood up and felt like she had a tiny opportunity take a few more steps forward. Before she could move any further, two large powerful arms embraced her from behind, followed by a warm and friendly growl. She turned to face the massive form and friendly face of a friend she had lost so many years before, overjoyed at the prospect of having someone she formerly loved now with her.

               The two of them sat on the lush grass, and began reminiscing about the fun they had together so many years before. As they spoke, they watched hundreds and thousands of others ascend from below as she had so many hours before. Many of them continued forward to ascend the glowing hill and many others froze in place, while others reached the land and were suddenly thrust back from whence they had come.

               Vanessa flopped back onto the grass, disappointed in herself, frustrated that she had taken the easy path instead of struggling to do the best with what she had. “I was unfaithful,” she grumbled to herself. “I guess that is they way things go sometimes. Decisions are made and there is no going back. Now I’m here and there is no way to undo what I’ve done.”

               Images of a star filled sky, of glowing red tail lights, and memories of the sound of her body being destroyed returned to her mind.

               “Let it go, Vanessa,” her friend said. “You cannot go back but at least we’re together now with good memories, good thoughts, and disappointment at what we didn’t do in the past. We need to watch for others that we’ve known from before and see what there is for us to do now.”

               “I really hope we’re not stuck in this empty place,” Vanessa said. “I hate the idea of having nothing to do. There must be something productive we can do to spend our time and be of value to ourselves to one another or to others.”

               The words barely left her mouth when they noticed that others like them rise to their feet and begin moving to one side of the grassy field. “Hey, look at that,” she said. “Let’s follow them and maybe we’ll find something good to do.” Grabbing her friend by the hand, they moved sideways to follow the crowd, eventually seeing others from their former life, to hug, to smile, to talk, and to reconnect.

               As they lingered about, they were approached by several other handsome young men, who looked a great deal like her former guides.

               “We are so glad that you two found one another,” one of them said. “We have a responsibility for you to take while you are here and as others arrive. When new visitors arrive, we need you to approach them, welcome them, encourage them, and urge them to move toward the glowing hill as far as possible. That is the ultimate goal for everyone. The closer you and they can approach the glowing hill, the greater love you will experience, and the greater joy you will find. It is your job to communicate hope and love.”

Restless

            John found himself standing in the sand, staring across the ocean and wondering about the horizon where the sky met the water. His life was one of daily struggle, daily battle, a consistent war within himself, fighting against the passions, and hoping for finding a resolution to this never-ending path which seemed to offer only frustration. Feeling desperate and uncertain of how to proceed forward, he dropped to his knees and resorted to prayer as a means to gain control over the corruption that seemed to fill every corner of his being.

               Fifteen minutes into prayer, he rose to his feet, brushed the sand from his knees, and returned to the parking lot to begin his drive home. “Phew, at least I have confession tomorrow night,” he breathed out to himself. “There is nothing better than a fresh start and I know that the battle will begin again as soon as I leave from the Divine Liturgy on Sunday morning.”

               Weaving through countless streets, past strip malls, movie theaters, and stores selling everything imaginable, he shuddered at the thought of being immersed in the inanity of western corruption. “Maybe I need to relocate somewhere else, where the Christian life is the standard for the culture,” he thought. “Ugh, everyone sins, everyone fails, and no one is without the internal battle against the passions. I really need to do something different.”

               “Here I am, stuck in Florida, surrounded by shamelessness, immodesty, vanity, and corruption,” he once again complained to himself. “Right now is probably a good time to find somewhere smaller and cooler to live, away from the beach life and the heat.” Pulling into his parking garage, he took the elevator to the third floor to enter his apartment, to then drop himself on his couch in silence. “Okay, let’s spend some time finding a good church that is in a cooler place with serious parishioners with a desire to follow holiness.”

               Ninety minutes later, John decided on relocating across the country and much further north. “I guess this is a good start,” he thought. “I think I’ll make some phone calls and learn about some of these other promising parishes.” After digging through his desk, he found a notebook and a pencil to document his conversations and create a definite and specific plan.

               Three days passed and he turned in his notice to quit at his place of employment. The next two weeks were spent finding new employment on the opposite side of the country, finding a new apartment in the new city into which he would be moving, and making close connections with the priest at the new church, and several other parishioners. Knowing that a move of such a great distance would only be reasonable if he sold most of his possessions, which would leave him with a substantial amount of cash to make the journey. Two days before his planned departure, he watched the last of his furniture leave his apartment with a feeling of sadness, knowing that he would never again return to this city or likely ever see his friends in this place.

               Two suitcases full of clothes, a single backpack which he carried onto the airplane and a path westward with three stops between home and his new destination. Never one to be silent for too long, he maintained a steady stream of conversation with the person sitting next to him on each airplane ride. Finally arriving at his new city, he hired an Uber, found his new apartment which was tragically empty and devoid of all furniture. He turned on the heat, unloaded his clothing into his closet and placed a phone call to the internet company.

               Feeling overly peckish after three airplane rides with nothing resembling a meal since his breakfast that morning, he locked his apartment behind him, walked to a local strip mall and was thrilled to find a sushi restaurant. He sat alone in silence wishing he had someone with whom to speak and share his thoughts, his struggles, and his passion to live a life of holiness.

               After a satisfying meal, he returned to his new apartment, counted the money in his pocket and knew that he would eventually need to purchase a car, some furniture, and a bed in order to function like a normal human being. “Four days, okay four days until the Saturday night service,” he grumbled. “I will need to do my best to struggle through the rest of this time.”

               The remainder of that evening and the next morning consisted of searching for employment, casual conversations with his neighbors, and roaming the city to understand his surroundings and how to make the best use of his time. Eventually landing a job in construction, he made a trip to the grocery store to put something in his refrigerator and shelves to avoid being hungry and uncomfortable for the next several days. Saturday evening eventually arrived after three days of work and he found his new parish which consisted of many friendly and kind people who embraced him as one of their own.

               After eighteen months of regular attendance, he began putting in the effort to learn the parish language to eventually notice that the idea of traveling to Russia became a passion that would not leave heart and mind. Two years of hard work in learning the Russian language, he knew that being surrounded by English speakers was not the best path forward to becoming connected with his fellow parishioners. After several conversations with his priest, he made the decision to quit his job, travel to Russia and settle there for a year, thoroughly immersing himself in the Russian language and culture. He eventually moved all of his possessions into a storage unit, bought a plane ticket and lived in the foreign country to find himself comfortably picking up the language and mindset of this Christian culture.

               In awe of his new surroundings, the foundation of a Christian culture seeped into his very being, making him feel as if life was now different, built on Christian thinking and morals, rather than shamelessness, immodesty, and vanity. His one year of relocation came to an end, prompting him to return to his new city and new parish to reconnect and feel very out of place in a world that was not founded on faithful Christianity. He returned, re-established himself in a new apartment with a new job and found himself disappointed and lonely after leaving behind a culture that had become his new reality.

               After three months in his former city, he could feel his heart and mind being drawn away toward foolishness and vanity, pulling him to return once again to Russia and settle himself in the world he so desperately wanted to embrace and live. He once again, moved his possessions into a storage unit, bought another plane ticket, and made the decision to move to Russia on a permanent basis. “I know that I’ll need to do a great deal of paperwork to make this my permanent reality,” he thought.

               After landing in a nearby country, he took a short train ride across the border and back to his former town of Nizhny Novgorod. With nothing more to his name than his two suitcases of clothing, his backpack, and a pocket full of cash, he returned to his previous apartment complex to find the manager and requested another room.

               “Hello Pavel,” he said as the man opened the door. “I have returned for what I believe will be on a permanent basis,” in his now relatively smooth Russian tongue. He and Pavel sat together at the kitchen table, filled out the required paperwork, to then ascend the stairs to his fully furnished apartment.

               “Phew, I feel so much better,” he said to himself. “Time to get a good night of sleep, so tomorrow I can find the US embassy and complete the paperwork to make this stay permanent.” Waking up at the sound of his alarm, he found himself ravenously hungry, he washed, he dressed, and descended the stairs to find a local market for a bit of breakfast.

               “Okay then, time for a two-mile walk,” he grumbled. The weather had turned to a pleasant spring day and he walked until he found the embassy, introduced himself, showed his passport and requested the paperwork to make his stay in Russia permanent. He completed the forms, received a temporary document permitting his stay for longer than one year. “Phew, time to look for work,” he said to himself as he left the building.

               His two mile walk home only lasted for six blocks, when he saw a sign in a local restaurant requesting a dishwasher. He pushed his way into the restaurant, inquired of the job and was offered the position. “Thank you for coming in, John” the restaurant owner said. “Please be ready to start tomorrow at six in the morning.”

               “Yes, sir, very good,” John answered.

               “I want you to understand that we are only open on Mondays through Fridays, so that you can attend Vespers, Matins, and Divine Liturgy. These are a very important part of our culture and life,” he said.

               “Excellent,” he answered. “I will see you tomorrow morning at six and on each day Monday through Friday. I am very happy to hear that the services of the Orthodox church are important to you. I completely agree as they are foundational to my life as well.”

               The two men shook hands, bade one another farewell and John began his walk home, feeling encouraged and content with how the day had passed. He covered less than one block when the owner caught his attention, handing him a warm meal in a small cardboard box.

“Thank you for coming in, John,” he said. “We are very pleased that you have embraced the religious life of our people. I wanted to give this meal so you have something warm in your belly when you arrive at home. God bless.”

Walking Away From It

 

            Like a lightning flash when there was no lightning, at that moment he knew he had come across something special, something different, and something of value. The last five years of his life had been one of self-control, sacrifice, and concerted effort when those around him were only focused on childish games, immaturity, and empty distraction. It was at that moment he knew he needed to act, to make a decision, and to focus on something of value.

               Like a snowball rolling down a hill, the plan, the goal, the overall direction continued to grow, to improve, and to make every decision important and worthy of attention and focus. Time slowly crept by with more decisions to be made, former choices led to making new choices and a continually growing plan for improvement and the need for responsibility and maturity to keep the plan growing and improving.

               Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and years turned into decades to eventually reveal that what he thought was a good plan, a good set of goals, and a hope for a brighter future only turned out to be a grand deception of which he was blissfully unaware.  As reality began to slowly unravel, he eventually learned to look back, re-interpret history, and finally come to an understanding of what he thought he had been rightly interpreting for so many years.

               Quality of life slowly improved, slowly expanded to bring in more joy, more happiness, and greater understanding. After a series of decisions that moved them in the right direction, he watched as all of their hard work crumbled to reveal a crippling and painful new world in which others began to chip away at everything he had worked so hard to create. Conversations were had, communication dissolved into resentment and disappointment, leaving everything in tatters and frustration.

               As time continued to slither past, he had a vision of biting into an apple to find half of a worm, knowing that the other half had been consumed in the last bite. Each day turned into one worse than the previous, bringing disappointment, frustration, and anger, leaving so much good that had been created into a steaming pile of despair.

               Very much like one sitting on the front porch as the sunshine of the day slowly transitioned into dusk and then into the full darkness of evening, he could feel everything falling apart, resentment building, and a complete loss of ideas on how to move forward. The model he had dreamt of, planned for, and began to build was slowly taken from him, leaving so much success and so much progress turning into benefit for someone else, who technically should have had no input or concern with his years of hard work and effort.

               One vision after another came into his mind as the months crept by. “I feel like I’ve baked a pie to only have it stolen from me,” he thought. “It seems like all that should have remained mine has been taken away by bad decisions made by others.” It was only two years later that the ache and burning in his stomach and soul disappeared that he began to realize that a new reality meant a new beginning with less stress, less frustration, and less disappointment.

               He began to move forward on a different path, with new friends, good input and wise guidance, to finally come to an understanding that sometimes things need to burn down and be replaced by something else. A new idea rose in his mind. “I feel like I’ve transitioned from eating bologna to eating prime rib,” he said to himself. Looking back over the last decade of his life, he realized that what was a few good decisions, and a bit of good advice was actually not what he had hoped for.

               Like moving from one mountain top to another, the view only continued to improve to expose more beauty, more truth, and a greater life. He found himself spending more and more time re-examining, exploring, and critiquing previous decisions and previous opportunities. As time continued to pass, he knew that he was on a new path to bigger and better things, knowing that wishing for an opportunity to re-do former decisions not an option.

               “Don’t wish for a different past,” he thought, “instead learn from previous mistakes, seek out good advice from those who are actually wise, and move forward to a life of holiness, purity, and love for others.” Failing to see the current reality of the present will only result in not being thankful for the current blessings, the few good thoughts, words, and actions of the past, and will allow for creating a better future.

               He eventually began to document all of his former decisions, the content upon which those decisions were made, and he learned to see, unsee, and re-see the details of life, the facts of reality, and the opportunities that lay before him. New friends, new connections, and restored relationships moved him in the right direction toward love for God, love for neighbor, and the pursuit of holiness.  He continued to explore his previous decisions, what exactly moved him to make those decisions, and he learned to change his approach, change his response to those around him, and learn to imitate those from the past who were truly good and holy.

               From his early childhood, the bar had been set very low, and as time passed, he continually moved the bar higher and higher, slowly realizing that what seemed to be love and concern from others was mostly deception and pretend. “What some call friendship is an odd thing,” he said to himself. “Our goal in life ought not be simply using others to make ourselves feel better, to create an image of ourselves in our own minds of being good people, but rather, our goal should be to positively influence others and help them move toward goodness and truth.”

               “Embrace the challenge, embrace the opportunities that come my way,” he thought, “and make the most of every situation to make life better for others, for myself, and for those around me.” Like finding one rotten apple in the middle of a barrel of apples, he could see the decay that followed from not removing that one rotten apple. “Hmm, one can turn on a flashlight and bring clarity to those around him but one cannot turn on a torch that pours out darkness. Life, energy, words, and actions should bring help and love to others.”

               The ideas and visions continued as he began to move in different circles, with different friends, and with different influences upon him. He began to find joy in his interaction with people who were genuine, who were honest, and who truly cared for him, offering him aid whenever he needed it. Like staring at the sun and comparing that experience with previous situations that involved seeing only reflections and half-truths, he could feel himself slowly transitioning toward truth, light, love, and hope.

               A new reality began to form around him, new dreams began to take shape, and new plans were created that would lead to goodness, truth, and beauty. Like an athlete who moved from minor league to major league, he could feel the challenge before him pushing him to move forward and improve. Like a musician who lived and experienced only pop music, to then discover classical music that forced a greater recognition of beauty and talent, he continued to move the bar higher and higher, not willing to be content with mediocrity.

               Becoming part of community that was not content with drivel, with immaturity, or with worldliness founded on western morals, he found himself challenging himself to continue growing and improving life for himself and for those he loved. The transition from darkness to dusk to daylight was a glorious metaphor for all that had been taking place. Interacting with shadows, with plastic smiles, and with pretend kindness twisted his stomach in knots when he realized that there were a small number of genuinely good and kind people and it was these with whom he needed to interact.

               He was torn between being thankful for finding a good community and losing so much in previous years. “Sometimes things need to be lost or destroyed in order to be replaced by beauty and truth,” he thought. “Without one, a man cannot see the necessary change and improvement that stands in front of him. Sacrifice, struggle, disappointment, and loss will move one in the right direction to uncover that which is better.”

Exterior Versus Interior

 

The neighborhood street was empty of all vehicle activity except for a little girl who walked alone on her way to school. She cradled her arm and whimpered softly, deeply concerned that her arm was broken after receiving a terrible kick from her father that morning. Two blocks south of her apartment building was a garage for motorcycle repair in which sat over twenty large, tattooed leather clad gang members, who upon seeing the little girl began to grumble among themselves about the girl’s sorry condition.

“Man, there is something seriously wrong with that little girl and whatever family life she is forced to endure,” one of them said. “We need to watch which building she lives in and intervene to protect her. If I can get my hands on the coward that would injure a little girl, that interaction will not be a pleasant experience.”

“I completely agree,” said another. “What kind of monster would hurt a child and somehow justify it to himself? I see that little girl every day as she walks to school, I assume. If I remember correctly, she will walk past here again around three o’clock on her way home. We can watch where she goes then.”

Four of the gang members stood from their seats, walked to the edge of the sidewalk and watched the little girl continue her walk to school. “If the little girl is being abused, we can only assume that her mother is suffering the same kind of trauma as well. Everyone pay attention to the clock so we don’t miss seeing her when she returns. This is very important; no child should have to suffer abuse from the one who is supposed to be protecting her.”

The lunch hour crept upon them faster than any of them realized, when one of the men offered to ride to the local taco truck and pick up lunch for everyone. The men sat together in the sunshine, enjoying their tacos and Modelos. “Oh, hey, we still need to fix Larry’s carburetor. Let’s finish lunch and hopefully we can have that taken care before the little girl returns,” Alexander said.

Lunch was finished, the Modelos were drained, allowing Larry to gather the garbage, making room for his motorcycle to be brought into the open space. One of the other men immediately dove into the work of removing the carburetor, to then bring it to the work bench to be dissembled, cleaned, and repaired.

“Oh, hey, look,” Alexander said, “there’s the little girl, we need to see which building so goes into and then we can make a plan to deal with the piece of human trash that is making her so miserable.”

Twelve of then men stepped to the sidewalk and watched the little girl ascend the steps into an apartment building, pausing before she walked through the door. “Oh, man, that poor kid,” one of them said, “no child should dread going home. We need to set up a surveillance plan to see which apartment is hers, and who comes and goes into it. I cannot wait to get my hands on whoever it is that his making her so miserable.”

Four men set themselves up to watch the front door of the building and four other men moved into the alley to watch the rear entrance. “You know, this is going to be difficult to determine who is part of her household. We need to have someone in the building to figure out which apartment she is in and we can then act on her behalf.”

“I’ll go inside,” Alexander said. “There are a lot of people that live in that building, so blending in should be easy enough to do. I’ll get over there tomorrow morning before she leaves for school. That’ll tell us which apartment is hers and a bunch of us can pay that monster a visit to inform him that we know what is going on and that his life will become very painful and unpleasant if something doesn’t change.”

 The sunshine on the next morning greeted the bikers as they arrived at the garage. “I need to get into that apartment building,” Alexander said. “Hopefully, I’m not too late to see her come out of her apartment. Once I figure it out, I’ll be back with an apartment number and we can deal with this guy and persuade him to change his behavior.”

Alexander hurried into the alley, slipped in the rear entrance to make a quick walk around the first floor and then the second floor and then the third floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he watched the little girl emerge from the door on the far end of the hallway on the third floor. He smiled at her when she walked past, to then hurry to her doorway and memorize the number. He sat on the top step of the stair with a clear view of her door to watch a small, greasy, angry little man leave the apartment. He memorized the man’s appearance and slowly followed him down the stairs.

He watched the man leave by the rear door, walk through the alley and approach the bus stop to wait for his ride. “Okay then, now we know,” he said to himself. “This will be an easy fix. Back to the garage to put together a plan to protect that little girl.” He hurried down the alley and slipped inside to share what he had learned in the last few minutes.

“I know which apartment she lives in and I’ve identified the guy that lives there with her,” he told them. “He leaves just minutes after the little girl, going to work I assume. We need to plan on how to communicate our concerns to him and force him to stop what he is doing. He’s little, greasy and clearly arrogant, so threats of violence will be enough to make him change his ways.”

Six of the bikers stood in the alley near the rear entrance of the apartment building to watch the greasy, little man begin ascending the stairs to go inside. “Alright, let’s stop him before he goes inside,” Alexander said. “Hey, you, stop right there,” he shouted as all six of them hurried up the steps and dragged the pathetic little man into the alley.

“We’ve been watching the little girl walk to school every day,” one of them said. “We couldn’t help but notice that she is always injured in some way. This will be the only warning you receive from us. If you don’t stop abusing her, we will inflict serious trauma upon you. What kind of man justifies to himself that abusing a small child is acceptable?”

A volley of punches and kicks followed Alexander’s words of warning, leaving the man in a bloody heap at the bottom of the stairs. “You should be protecting her, you piece of trash,” one of them said. “Change whatever it is that you are doing. This beating will be the first of many if you don’t change how you treat her.”

The six bikers walked away from the crumpled and suffering little man to return to their garage. The next morning the garage full of bikers watched the little girl once again walk past their shop, holding her hand over her eye, which they could easily see was blackened.

“Okay guys, looks like we need to make another visit to her father,” Alexander said. “We can catch him as he is leaving the alley for work. Some people clearly are not very intelligent, so let’s teach him another lesson.” The six men hid in the shadows and seized the greasy, little man as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Another beating, this one more vicious than the last immediately followed.

The dozen other men in the garage watched as the girl’s father staggered from the alley to the bus stop, holding his ribs with what was clearly a broken hand. The bus disappeared into the distance.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I think when he comes back from work today, we need to stop him from going into the apartment building,” one of them said. The day nearly came to an end and the garage full of bikers watched the sore and somewhat broken man emerge from the bus and stagger toward the alley. “Quick, we need to meet him in the alley before he gets the idea of going back inside,” one of them said.

Six men hurried into the alley, and Alexander picked up a brick from the ground to then launch it toward the man’s head. “Hey, you ignorant piece of trash, don’t even think about going inside. You need to find somewhere else to live. If we see you around here again, you’ll get another beating worse than the one you received this morning. Get lost.”

They watched the man slink away in the opposite direction of their garage. “I would hope that he is smart enough to never come back,” Alexander said, “and now we have the responsibility of providing for his wife and daughter. I’m sure we all have enough money to keep the two of them from getting evicted and going hungry. Let’s go pay them a visit and explain what has happened.”

Alexander and another of the bikers slipped into the apartment building, knocked on the girl’s door to be greeted by a young woman who also carried many wounds and bruises. “Hello ma’am,” Alexander said. “Me and my friends work in the motorcycle shop just a few doors down and we’ve been watching your daughter walk to school every morning with signs of abuse. So, we intervened in her and your best interest.”

“Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Maggie and this is my daughter Angela, can you tell me what you did?”

“Yes, of course,” Alexander answered. “Me and four of our friends poured out two beatings on the man that has been abusing you and her. We convinced him to never return and at the same time, we have decided that we will pay for your rent and buy groceries so you are comfortable and safe.”

“Oh, my goodness, thank you so much,” she said.

“Of course,” Alexander answered. “Children and women should not have to live in such horrible conditions. It is our belief that we need to intervene and help whenever we can. We’ll stop by once a week to pay your rent and buy whatever groceries you need. My name is Alexander and this is Tommy. We’ll make sure that this horrible person never returns to this apartment.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“We’ll be back in a week,” Alexander said. “Put together a list of groceries that you need and how much cash you need to pay your rent, your electricity, and your water bill. We are more than happy to help. Have a good day, Maggie.”

As promised, within a week, Alexander, Tommy and another biker stood at Maggie and Angela’s door to deliver the promised financial support and to receive a list of grocery needs. An hour later they returned with everything on the list and several other items they believed would be appreciated.

Two days later as all the bikers sat in their garage, they watched as Angela approached through the front entrance carrying a container of cookies. “Hello, Alexander,” she said. “Mommy and I baked these for you and your friends. Thank you for all you have done for us. We cannot thank you enough.”

“Hello, Angela,” Alexander answered. “It is so nice to see you. Thank you and your mommy for the cookies. I know everyone here will really enjoy them.” He received the container of cookies with a smile, handed them to Tommy and took Angela by the hand.

“Come along, my dear,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

From Something to Nothing to Something

 

            Julius woke up beneath a pile of flattened cardboard boxes, slightly damp, painfully hungry and confused as to his location. He slid out from beneath his temporary protection from the elements to see other people in a similar state scattered around the alleyway. Still tired and disappointed in the tragic turn his life had taken several years prior, he thought back to his years at university, which was followed by a high paying job as a financial manager.

               “Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he grumbled. “I was earning six figures a year, had a wife and kids, lived in opulence, drove a Bentley and now I live in an alley and am hungry all the time. I guess that’s what happens when your best friend deceives you, fabricates stories about your ethics, and reports you to the police.”

               “Grocery store, get to a grocery store,” he muttered to himself. “There is always discarded food in the dumpsters behind the stores. Phew, I am so hungry. Looks like I have about a thirty-minute walk to the closest store.” He walked out of the alley, stopped at the corner and gave a few minutes of consideration of the shortest path to the grocery store. “I think I’ll cut through that neighborhood, that should save me about ten minutes.”

               As he shuffled past the largest and most beautiful homes in the city, he could see their occupants peeking through the curtains as he passed by. Seeing these homes, seeing these arrogant and selfish people stirred up memories of his former life, his own selfishness, and the deception that had been used against him to bring him to this place in life.

               Julius could see the grocery store sign hovering far overhead only a few blocks ahead of him. “Okay, let’s hope I can find something of some nutritional value and something to drink,” he muttered. He began walking faster, slipped into the alley and found several discarded boxes of doughnuts, a gallon jug of iced tea, and a bag of apples. “Yes, this is perfect,” he said. Slipping the items into his backpack, he left the alley, found a small park with benches and enjoyed his free meal while watching children and dogs play in the open space.

               After consuming six doughnuts, two apples, and almost half of the iced tea, he rose from the park bench to take a seat beneath a massive maple tree. As he waited and watched the activity in the park, he was approached by two police officers looking less than friendly or compassionate.

               “Excuse me, sir,” one of them said, “I need to see some identification and an explanation of why you are here.”

               Julius slowly rose to his feet, cautiously removed his wallet from his pocket, handed over his driver’s license and spoke with respect. “I’ve been in a bad place for several years,” he said. “I really wanted to get outside and enjoy the park setting while I ate my breakfast.”

               “We’ll need you to come with us,” the other officer said. “We have received reports that a questionable character was seen wandering through a local neighborhood and you perfectly match the description given to us. I’ll place your backpack in the trunk of the car, put your hands behind your back while we drive you to the station to be processed.”

               As Julius was confined in the small space of the police car, he immediately noticed just how horribly he smelled but he felt better after having plenty to eat. He was removed from the back of the police car and led inside the station to answer questions at a desk from a third officer. His name, where he lived, the details of his life, and the horrible path he had lived for the past several years.

               Shortly thereafter he was led to a jail cell to join four others who seemed to be in a similar position as himself. He watched the clock slowly crawl by as two hours passed until another officer opened the cell, called him out, and introduced him to a man who appeared to be a priest. Julius and the priest left the station, to learn that the priest had paid for his bail with the promise to get him back to a better place in life.

               “Hello Julius,” the priest said. “My name is Father Andrew and I hope I and the people at my church can help you get yourself back to a better place in life. We have a small apartment where you can stay, shower, sleep, and dress in untattered and clean clothes. I’ll take you there now and you can get settled in and comfortable.”

               The two men climbed into the priest’s car, drove a few blocks, parked and walked into a very small apartment. “I’ll be back in about three hours, which should give you enough time to clean up, relax, and get dressed. When I return, we can get some lunch, and I’ll introduce you to some other men from our church. We are all very interested in hearing about how we can help you, your past, and find you a new path to walk to improve yourself.”

               “Thank you so much, Father Andrew,” Julius said. “I truly appreciate your generosity and help. I’ll see you in about three hours.”

               He watched the priest leave the apartment, lock the door behind him, to then undress and drop his clothing into the garbage can in the kitchen. “Man, it has been a long time since I’ve had a good shower,” he said to himself. As the warm water washed over his body, he watched months of filth slither down the drain. “I should start at the top,” he said. “Wash my hair, my face and work my way down. Phew, this feels so much better.”

               Scrubbing away months of dirt and stink, he stood motionless in the warm water, realized his fingernails and toenails were ridiculously long and dirty, to then turn off the water, and dry himself as he stood on the bath mat. He looked through the bathroom to find clippers, scissors, a comb and a razor. “I guess I have to cut my own hair, trim this beard short, and shave in order to look civilized.”

               Feeling like a completely different person, he wandered through the apartment to find a set of clothes that fit him and he waited for the three hours to pass when Father Andrew would return. “I could really go for a good, warm lunch right now,” he said. “Let’s see how this plays out.” The priest arrived, they left the apartment, drove to a local diner to meet three other men, where he was informed he could order anything he wanted from the menu.

               The five men spent the next hour talking about Julius’ early life, his years at university, his job in financial management, the deception of someone he believed was his friend, his loss of wife and children, and his abilities in many different fields. As they finished their meals, he was offered the opportunity to stay at the apartment for as long as he needed, with an offer to find him work to save up enough money to find his own residence.

               After returning to the apartment, Julius spent the next four days submitting applications to jobs in the financial management field. He received a job offer from his third application which he quickly accepted. He then placed a phone call to Father Andrew to inform him of his new job, his plan to save enough money for the next three months to then find his own home. “I cannot thank you and the other men enough,” he said. “You all have made great sacrifices for me and helped me get back on the right path.”

               “Of course,” Father Andrew said. “This is what life is supposed to be like. We’ll reconnect after three months once you find your new home. Yes, we’ll stay in contact during that time and I hope you continue making good decisions. This is a new opportunity for you. Talk to you soon.”

               Julius made a habit of visiting different churches each Sunday morning, starting of course with the Orthodox church led by Father Andrew. This was followed by a visit to a Baptist church, a Presbyterian church, a Roman church, and a non-denominational church. After each service he was disappointed to find that with the exception of the Orthodox church, all the other churches were cold, distant, and uninterested in genuine interaction.

               Three months passed, and he placed a call to Father Andrew, informing him that he now had enough money to secure his own home. “I’ll be visiting your parish next week,” he said, “so I can return the keys, offer my genuine thanks and have a final interaction with all of you.”

               Because he had not yet enough money to purchase a car, Julius walked to the Orthodox church to be warmly welcomed and enjoyed the beauty and stillness of the service. When the service was over, he joined the entire congregation for a meal afterwards, where he interacted with several others he had not yet previously known. He accepted an offer for a ride to the apartment to gather his few things, and a subsequent ride to his new home.

               Julius stood on the front step of the duplex, waved goodbye to Father Andrew as he drove away. As he stood in the sunshine enjoying the warmth, he was approached by his neighbor to receive a friendly introduction. The two men exchanged names, phone numbers, and shared a brief history of their lives.

               “It was nice meeting you, Harold,” Julius said. “I wanted to let you know that I will be receiving a lot of deliveries over the next few weeks.  Can I leave you my garage code so that when deliveries are made, if you are home, you can let them in to place the parcels in the garage?”

               “Yes, of course,” Harold said. “Package theft isn’t really much of a problem in our neighborhood but having them out of sight would be a good idea. I’m glad to see that someone responsible and intelligent is moving in next door. Let’s stay in contact as you get settled in. I know a lot of people who could make good use of your financial advice. Have a good day, Julius.”

               The two men shook hands, Julius watched Harold walk back into his duplex, to then walk into his own empty duplex. “Wow, I need to get some food in this fridge,” he grumbled. “The table, chairs, and bed are supposed to be here today. With that in mind, I need to walk down to the mall and pick up the few essentials to keep myself moving forward. Oh shoot, I need to give my garage code to Harold before I leave.”

               He knocked on Harold’s door, handed him a slip of paper with the garage code, informed him of his walk to the mall to pick up a few things. Upon hearing this Harold immediately offered to drive him there and back. “We can use my truck so you don’t have to carry your things such a long distance. I would like to help as much as I can,” he said. “There is nothing better than having a good neighbor. Did you want to go right now?”

               “Yes, that would be great, thank you,” Julius said.