Acknowledging Weakness

 

            The twelve year old boy slipped into his father’s library to show off the few hairs that had just begun to reveal themselves on his upper lip. His father heard his attempts to silently enter the room to turn around and congratulate him on his first steps into puberty. “I’ve been waiting for this day, son,” he said. “You have begun to take on the size and shape of a man and now it is time for you to begin learning how to defend yourself, both physically and verbally.”

              “Okay, father,” the boy replied.

              “You and I will begin working together at least three days a week,” he said. “We will begin with a rigorous exercise routine which will enable you to take advantage of your size and give you the muscle and balance needed to protect yourself and protect others when those who are less than good try to cause trouble. Most importantly, you will learn how to think logically, rationally articulate yourself, so that you won’t have to resort to physical violence to put an end to the trouble caused by others.”

              “Okay, father,” the boy replied, “when do we start?”

              “We will start today, about two hours before dinner,” he answered. “We’ll start out with this practice three days a week to work you toward a bigger and stronger body, and after several weeks like this, we will add a day, and again after a few months, we’ll add another day.”

              “This will be great,” Anthony answered. “Based on what time it is right now, I’m guessing we’ll be starting within the hour.”

              Four weeks passed, then six more weeks passed, and finally three months passed, and Anthony marveled at how much stronger and more agile he had become in this short period of time. Every day during breakfast, he and his father would have in depth and thoughtful conversations about how to speak clearly, think clearly, and diffuse a potentially bad situation using his words rather than his muscles.

              Their conversations ranged across a wide field of religion and philosophy, including Christianity, Buddhism, philanthropy, and pacifism. Anthony wrote down notes as they spoke, allowing him to create an articulate approach to life, to thought patterns, and to a careful way of interacting with others, who in most cases had given little to no consideration to topics such as these.

               Every Sunday morning, he would weigh himself, take measurements of his chest, biceps, thighs, and calves, marveling at how muscular he had become as the months passed. He began watching bodybuilding videos, long distance and short distance running videos, all of which fed his ego about how much better he was than everyone else. As time continued to pass, he made the mistake of commenting about his thoughts about himself and the sorry state of most other people.

              “Don’t go down that path, Anthony,” his father said. “Yes, you may be bigger, stronger, and more thoughtful than most other people you will meet, but humility is the path you must maintain. There will always be someone bigger, stronger, or smarter than you, remember that and you will be a better person.”

              “Yes, father, I will keep that in mind,” he said. “Honestly, I find it incredibly frustrating that I cannot seem to find anyone with whom to discuss these topics or challenge in hand-to-hand combat. You have taught me well and I long for someone comparable to learn from and with whom to grow.”

              “This is a path that you will find challenging,” he said, “but remember that very few people have the opportunities that you have been given or have the mind that is interested in or willing to engage with this depth of thought. Make humility and willingness to learn your foundation for moving through life. Everyone you meet will have some sort of knowledge or skill that can make you a better person. This is not about you against the world, instead think of your path forward as an opportunity to become a stronger, wiser person.”

              The months turned into years and Anthony transitioned into training five days a week, and articulating his philosophy on most evenings, a glorious combination of hard physical work and mental gymnastics that seemed to be moving him in the wrong direction as he found himself becoming more and more arrogant about his superiority.

              He finished his last year of high school, applied for university and moved to a large town on the other side of the state to study biochemistry and continue his rigorous exercise regimen and philosophical ruminations. After two months on campus, he began making connections with other students and joined a martial arts class that further enhanced his wrestling and grappling skills, making him an even greater opponent.

              After his Wednesday night martial arts class, several other students approached him to invite him to join them on Friday evening at a fraternity on campus. “There will be a lot of girls there,” they promised. “A guy your size, with your skills and good looks, you won’t have any trouble meeting that perfect girl.”

              “Okay, give me the address,” he said, feeling somewhat guilty for attending such an event, knowing that alcohol would certainly be present and overused, a practice in which he had never indulged. Friday evening came around and he began the short walk from his dorm to the fraternity address, to see dozens of young people flooding into the building. Within seconds of stepping inside, he was surrounded by a scores of beautiful young women demanding his attention, his name, and his phone number. Being the kind and polite young man that he was, he gave out his contact info to more girls than he could count.

              He shifted around from room to room, making friends, making contacts, and meeting more people than he could remember. He left the kitchen area and walked into the dining room to find a weaselly young man harassing one of the girls that he had met earlier. He could see that she was cringing at the boy’s approaches upon her, so Anthony stepped into the conversation, placing a massive hand upon his shoulder, warning him that the girl obviously was not interested in him.

              The boy turned to look into Anthony’s chest, attempting to look intimidating and when he realized that Anthony was literally twice his size, he apologized to the girl and left the room.

              “Thank you, Anthony,” she said. “That creep has been following me around for at least an hour. I really needed some help with that one. I’m positive that he won’t bother me any longer, considering how massive and protective you are. Call me soon and hopefully I’ll see you in class next week.”

              Anthony and the girl left the dining room, walked into the living room to enjoy a dance, surrounded by dozens of other couples. They finished their dance and stepped to the side of the room to be confronted by the weaselly young man from earlier with two similar friends, all of whom were trying to be intimidating, which made Anthony chuckle inside, knowing that these three little boys offered him no challenge whatsoever.

              He stepped in between the girl, who stood behind him, and the three scrawny and laughable young men approaching him, trying to be a threat. One of them threw a punch which landed on his chest, which was nothing more than an annoying poke, triggering his body to immediately become tense. When the meager punch brought about no response, the three boys walked away, disappointed with their failure to steal the girl away from him.

              “Wow, that was really cool,” the girl said. “Thanks again for intervening.”

              “Yes, of course,” Anthony said. “Guys like that are nothing more than an annoyance. It’s getting kind of late; can I walk you back to your dorm? I hate the thought of you being alone when you walk back. I can make sure that you get back safe without being hassled again.”

              “That would be wonderful,” she said. “I need to get up early tomorrow and meet my parents for breakfast. Is there any chance that you would like to join us? We’re meeting at the café on the corner of Maple and 4^th street at eight.”

              “I would love to,” Anthony said. “Come on, let’s go and I’ll get you home safe. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

              “Right, of course,” she said, “my name is Avery. I know my parents will love you. Can you meet me at my dorm at 7:45. We can walk to the restaurant together.”

              Anthony and Avery left the fraternity, walked down the sidewalk holding hands and he watched her walk into her dorm. He turned to face the three pathetic young men from earlier, who, once again, tried to be intimidating, which left him somewhat baffled at their incredible lack of common sense or foresight.

              “Ugh, seriously guys?” he said. “I’m only going to say this once. Leave the girl alone, she and I are together. If I learn that you are continuing to bother her, I’ll have to take action to make sure that it doesn’t happen again. I would hope that some verbal direction would steer you away from the possibility of injury from my hands. Take the hint, go find something better to do than bothering a girl who is clearly not interested in you.”

              The three boys turned to walk away.

              “I’d rather use my words than my fists to make my point clear,” he said. “If the girl is there, I’ll be there as well and you three better not be there. Don’t make me turn this into something painful and ugly. Learn to recognize your weakness, see the strengths of others, and do what is right so you don’t end up being the annoying jerks that no one wants to be around.”

              “Phew,” he thought, as he watched the three of them jog away without looking back. “I am so glad that my words handled that situation. The last thing I need is to have three guys pressing charges against me for assault. Alright, Avery is safe and now I can go home. Wow, what a night.”

Cyclic Rescue

 

            Roger swiped his timecard through the time clock just before entering the locker room to change into his work clothes. He quickly changed, retrieved his protective gear from his locker and joined his partner of the last five years in the garbage truck, to begin their route through the nearly empty and most desperate section of the inner city. They had traveled six blocks, picking up over a dozen trash cans at each corner before backing into an alley.

              Roger heaved the filthy blue dumpster away from the brick wall, attached it to the hooks on the back of the truck, and like he always did, flipped open the two lids to scan inside, always terrified of finding a homeless person or a corpse inside, which was thankfully a rare occurrence. He banged on the side of the truck and motioned for his partner to take a second look through the dumpster, as a small movement caught his attention.

              “Please let that be an animal,” he grumbled. Not one to take any sort of risk, he pulled himself up and into the dumpster, to find a newborn wrapped in soiled garments and covered in bodily fluids. “Damn, this is not good,” he said. “John, place a call into the office and I’ll call the police. There is a baby in here. This is really messed up.”

              The two men leaned against the side of their truck and waited for the police and aid car to arrive, both feeling sick and disappointed in the state of mankind. Thirty minutes passed and the aid car arrived first, shortly followed by the police, who requested a detailed explanation of the events that morning. Roger explained everything that happened, knowing that he needed to be articulate and careful, and he knew better than to touch anything on or around the child. The two police officers thanked them for the details, left the alley, and Roger and John watched as the child was retrieved from the dumpster and taken, presumably to the hospital.

              After three days passed, Roger called the police department with hopes of learning something about the child, if it was healthy, if it survived and if it had been placed into a loving home. He was transferred to the human services department and was given very little information about the child or his location. He hung up the phone, found his wife in the kitchen and shared the few details he received from his phone call.

              “Hey, honey, I just spoke to someone in the human services department, and they said that the child was a little boy and had a brief note tucked inside of its clothing written in Russian,” he said.

              “That is the saddest story you have ever told me,” she said. “Hopefully someone adopts the little guy and gives him a loving home. I just cannot imagine abandoning my own child in a dumpster. Someone must have been in a very bad situation.”

              Six months passed and Roger received a phone call, informing him that the child had been adopted by a wealthy and powerful family. His immediate response was that of joy and thankfulness, knowing that every person deserves to be loved and protected. He called his wife and told her all that he had learned, wishing he could know more and do more to help the little guy.

              Little Alec became part of the Worthington family and after five years was joined by a younger brother, another child who had been abandoned in a way similar to Alec. Two years after this, a third brother was adopted, and two years after this a fourth brother was adopted, giving Alec a robust, loving family to call his own. On his eleventh birthday, Alec stood in the entry way of their home, looking at a photo of his entire family, wondering why his eyes were somewhat slanted, wondering why his skin was somewhat yellow and his hair was perfectly black and straight.

              Everyone else in the family had the same basic look, and he understood that he was different than everyone else in the photo. Alec graduated from university with a degree in human services to be followed after the next several years by his four brothers earning their degrees as well, to step into leadership roles with their father at the family company. After five years of learning as much as he could about the company, Alec stepped into the role of CEO as his father had begun to grow old.

              Another decade passed and Alec began to wonder about his own future, if he should be doing more to help people, and hopefully rescue more children in the same way that he and his brothers had been rescued. Struggling to learn more about his identity, he took a DNA test to find out about his origins, which revealed his family line came from a region along the Russian and Chinese border. He shared his findings with his brothers and confessed that he was determined to step down from his role as CEO, move to the region of his original family line and do something great.

              His next oldest brothers stepped into the CEO role, which gave Alec the freedom to sell nearly all of his possessions and contact a real estate agent in that part of Russia. It was then that he learned that the cost of living was considerably lower than his currently city in the United States. He packed as many clothes as he thought he may need, bought a home surrounded by a great deal of property, and bought a plane ticket to make the trip to his land of origin.

              After arriving at the airport, he hired a driver to bring him to his property, to find that his newly purchased home was completely encircled by a wrought iron fence, providing safety and beauty for what appeared to be a carefully tended garden filling all three acres of his new home. He punched in the code at the main gate to walk into a fully furnished home to find a handwritten letter from the local priest, inviting him to Church four days hence.

              He placed a phone call to Father Dmitri, inviting him over to learn about the community, the city, the people there and the needs that were more prominent for the people of Kultuk. As Sunday morning arrived, Alec found himself embraced and loved as part of the community. He made multiple connections with many people in the Church and around the neighborhood. The purchase price of the home barely put a dent in the amount of money he earned from the sale of his home back in the United States, allowing him to build an additional wing that would provide safety, warmth, and healthy food for the dozens of homeless children in the community.

              His grasp of the Russian language grew quickly, as he immersed himself in and around the city and shops. His passion for doing good, for helping others, and for paying back the good that had been given to him from the day he was found in the dumpster in the alley. Within six months the addition to his home was complete, allowing him to hire on nurses, maids, and cooks, all of which provided love and stability to the first six children he adopted.

              After two years of living as a bachelor among employees and an ever-growing cache of children, he met a young woman at Church. He and she began to grow closer together, until he became like one of the family, eventually asking her to marry him and create more opportunities to help more children. He and Elena watched their household grow as children arrived, grew up, became adults and were replaced by more and more children over the years.

              As the years slowly crept by, Alex could feel himself growing older, knowing that he only had so many years to continue this work of helping children in the same way that he had been helped. On the day after his sixtieth birthday, while out on a walk, he was approached by a small, twisted barefoot old man, who appeared to be a monk. The two of them engaged in conversation, each sharing the details of their lives, learning that they were essentially doing the same work. The older man was somewhat difficult to understand, as his speech was a jumbled mix of Russian, Chinese, and bits of English.

              Before they parted way, Alec invited Father John over for dinner to meet his wife and the many children who were always excited to meet someone new. Alec could see the joy and excitement in John’s face as the children came and went, gave him hugs, and asked him questions. Before darkness fell, Alec joined John on a walk back to his home, which was a much smaller and poorer version of his own, which encouraged him to pay for the many needs of John and the orphans under his care.

              It was through his relationship with John that Alec met many new people, one of whom he drew especially close to, trusting that this young man would take over the responsibilities of the orphanage that he had begun in the small town of Kultuk. Alec and Elena hired a lawyer to take care of the paperwork for transferring responsibility to the young man so they could return to their family back in the United States. Alec was excited and thrilled at introducing his wife to the many members of his extended family. His brothers, his sister-in-law’s and many, many nieces and nephews.

              They arrived at the airport in New York City, rented a car and drove to his youngest brother’s home to stay for a few nights until they could find a home to purchase and furnish as they grew old together, looking forward to an exciting new life among family members. On the first day of each month, Alec placed a phone call to the orphanage he had entrusted to the young man in Kultuk, confirming that the work was continuing and helping as many children as possible. On a quarterly basis, he would send extra financial support to ensure that all of the needs were addressed.

A Disposable Tool

 

            Wilfred had just descended the seven floors of his office building to enjoy a warm, peaceful, and slightly windy afternoon, to eat his lunch in the park alone. He paused at the main entrance to his building, looking out across the sea of people, all of whom seemed to be walking in pairs and distracted in conversation, while he argued with himself inside of his own mind about whether to eat fish and chips or bangers and mash.

              He descended the fourteen steps to the main sidewalk and ended the argument in his head by deciding on fish and chips, a meal he would enjoy in the park, alone, while people watching. Walking three blocks south to the traditional public house he only occasionally visited, he placed his order to go, waited fifteen minutes for the waitress to appear with a hot and greasy paper sack, accompanied by a twenty-four-ounce oatmeal stout.

              He retraced his steps to the small park that fronted his office building, found an empty table, placed his still cold and foamy drink immediately to his right, popped open the Styrofoam container that held his fish and chips and savored every bite, stirring up memories of the many identical meals that he enjoyed with his parents as a child.

              The combination of hot fish, vinegar laden chips and the strong oatmeal stout brought great joy to his heart, something he had not felt in far too long. He sat in silence, enjoyed his meal, and people watched for the next thirty minutes, wondering what had happened that he was now almost always alone. He ate with his fingers, occasionally looking at the plastic fork that sat alone in the bottom of the greasy paper bag. “Heh, that’s me,” he thought. “There’s a tool that really serves no purpose. It’s plastic, it’s flimsy, and would only break if I tried to cut into this meal.”

              He finished his lunch, wiped the excess grease and salt from his fingers, and swallowed his last very large mouthful of stout. As he stood to dispose of his garbage, an abrupt jackhammering jarred him from his introspection, followed by a string of expletives from the man operating the offensive tool. He glanced at his watch and realized that he still had fifteen minutes of lunch break to burn through before returning to his windowless office.

              A large, sweaty man in an orange safety jacket dropped the jackhammer on the ground and began to dissemble the tool. Wilfred presumed the tool was broken and needed to be repaired or replaced. “Heh, it’s me again,” he thought. “Use the tool until it no longer has value and then replace it.” He returned to the sidewalk and began walking in the opposite direction to enjoy the fresh air, the sunshine, and continued to watch people, hoping to distract himself away from his feelings of rejection and emptiness.

              He had left his jacket on the back of his chair at his desk, which allowed him to roll up his sleeves, which brought attention to his now ringless left hand finger, a slight pale space with no hair, having been previously occupied by a wedding ring. When he reached the end of the street, he sat down at the bus stop, watched a bus arrive to be boarded by several people and spew forth several people, most of whom were accompanied by a significant other.

              He continued to people watch for another five minutes, to then rise to his feet and return to his office. A slight breeze blew an empty paper cup past his feet as he slowly returned to work. “Heh, there’s me again,” he thought. “A cup that temporarily served its purpose until it no longer was useful, disposed of and forgotten. That makes me think of that comedian I heard the other night at the club, remind the audience that the employer they currently serve will replace them when they no longer fulfill their purpose.”

              He ascended the fourteen steps, re-entered the building, paused at the elevator door but then chose to take the steps up all seven floors, feeling the need to burn off some of the calories he had just consumed. He dropped his now slightly sweaty frame into his office chair to look up at the back of the heads of his co-workers, wondering if anyone else had the same kind of thoughts that he did.

              “No, they don’t,” he reminded himself. “Listening to these knuckleheads talk all day makes it obvious that they have nothing of depth taking place in between their ears. No one is original, no one is creative, no one is thoughtful, and no one seems to offer anything of value to us, to me, or to the company. What a ridiculous waste of life and energy.”

              The next several hours passed and he watched the clock tick to five, prompting him to cleanse his hands with several drops of hand cleanser, put on his jacket and take the elevator to the main floor. He blended into the crowd of people as they vomited forth onto the sidewalk. He and they continued for several blocks to descend further into the London Underground, which resulted in a fifteen-minute ride on the tube, being constantly reminded to mind the gap.

              His stop came up and he squeezed through the crowd to ascend once again to the street above and enter his small, somewhat cold and empty flat. This glorious space had once been filled with antiques, books, fine art, a wife and two happy children. Most of which was now gone, as she had filed for divorce, taking most everything of value, leaving him feeling unloved, unwanted, and disposable.

              He sat down at this veneered aluminum table, not quite hungry for dinner but settled to pull a Guinness from the fridge to hold him over until the hunger pains for dinner arrived. He swallowed the last of the Guinness, looked at the mostly empty shelves in the fridge and in the cupboards, wondering if a grocery store run would be the wisest response, or another trip to a local pub for a nice shepherd’s pie.

              With a barely audible groan, he lay down on the floor, and slowly relaxed each muscle, starting with his toes, his legs, his hands, his arms, his torso, and finally released the tension in his neck. He watched the random patterns on the ceiling shift about as his mind looked for patterns, hating the idea of randomness.

              “Ugh, I need to take a shower,” he thought. “Way too much sweating today and way too much introspection. Like the fork, like jackhammer, and like the paper cup, I’m just another disposable tool for which no one has a use.” He slowly sat up, undressed, took a cold shower, and found a fresh set of clothing, committed to enjoying a savory shepherd’s pie from the local pub.

              “Maybe I can connect with someone tonight during dinner,” he thought. “There is that one waitress that is always so friendly. If I go late enough, I can wait for her shift to finish and maybe we can enjoy a night at the edge of the lake. A little pointless conversation would be enjoyable. There is nothing better than listening to someone else talk, to ask questions, to answer questions, and to trade some empty banter.”

              After a cool shower, a quick shave, and a new set of clothes, he moved some product through his hair, grabbed his wallet and keys and walked the few blocks to the local pub. Offering a small wave and smile to the waitress, he took a booth, ordered his dinner and suggested taking her for a quiet chat after her shift to the edge of the lake. She touched his arm, returned the smile, and accepted his offer. He finished his dinner, ordered a second Guinness and waited for Margery to finish her shift, meeting her on the sidewalk as the restaurant closed.

              The evening transpired exactly as he had hoped, slowly walking with Margery to the lake, to engage in small, pointless conversation, which was a lovely reprieve from his days, weeks, and months of introspective conversation. “This is really nice, Margery,” he said. “I spend so much of my time alone. It’s really good to have a conversation with someone else besides the monolog in my head. I so often feel like a disposable tool with no real purpose.”

              “Oh, Wilfred,” she said. “Don’t talk like that. We really should spend more time together. I find your company quite lovely and enjoyable. You are not disposable, you have so much to offer to me and so many others. There are so many who would miss you if you were suddenly gone. That would be terrible. It’s getting kind of late; will you walk me home?”

              “Yes, of course,” Wilfred answered. “I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

              “Thank you so much, my love,” she said. “We should go out for breakfast some morning on some weekend. That way we don’t have to sneak around in the dark and we can enjoy a sunny morning and afternoon together. That would be so lovely.”

              “I love that idea,” Wilfred said. “Let’s do that Sunday morning. I’ll be at your door at nine o’clock Sunday morning, if that works for you.”

              “Yes, that sounds perfect,” Margery answered. “This will be a perfect Sunday morning. See you then.”

              He walked her to her door, watched her walk in, he scanned the neighborhood and returned home, feeling happy, satisfied and useful, thrilled at the prospect of this new developing friendship.

Consistent Deceit

    

            Agatha stood at her kitchen window watching her fourteen-year-old son walking down the driveway to catch the bus for a ride on his first day of high school. She carried a great deal of concern for his well-being, as he had been homeschooled up to this time. She and her husband Alexander both knew that Jonathan was well educated, thoughtful, and sensitive, probably one who could easily be taken advantage of, as he was willing to sacrifice anything for anyone who was in need.

              Three weeks after the start of the school year, Jonathan began talking about another student with whom he had become friends, a young man named Simon, who also had been homeschooled and seemed to be a mirror image of Jonathan. Simon began to visit them on a weekly basis and Agatha asked for his phone number in order to meet his parents and hopefully develop a relationship with them, as they sounded like kindred spirits.

              As springtime approached, both Jonathan and Simon decided to join the cross-country team, neither one of them being particularly athletic but wanting to make more connections with fellow students. The longer the season continued, the more disappointed and surlier Jonthan seemed to become, which prompted his parents to urge him to tell them what was happening at school and if there was anything they could do to help.

              After a few days of prodding and encouraging him to talk, he eventually cracked and began to complain about how so many people pretended to be nice, but he would often hear them talking to other students about how weird and abnormal both he and Simon were. “It seems to me that people like to pretend to be nice, so they make themselves look good and feel like they are doing the right thing,” he said. “It really bothers me that people are fake and only act friendly when I am around. I just don’t understand it.”

              “Jonathan, you need to understand that people will wear masks and act differently around different people,” his father said. “There is nothing we can do about it. If someone acts like this, all we can do is make the best of the situation and not return unkindness for their ingenuine behavior.”

              “Your father and I have been talking about having Simon and his family over for dinner one evening,” his mother said. “If Simon is experiencing the same thing as you, it would be good for all of us to talk about it and see if we can come up with a solution for you both to practice. There is always a right answer and most of the time is it easy to do the wrong thing simply because it feeds our desire for revenge.”

              Jonthan grumbled around the house on that weekend, looking forward to having Simon and his family over for some genuine, friendly interaction. Still feeling grumpy and sad, he left the house and lay in the silence of their backyard, staring into the empty blue sky far overhead. The soft sound of padding feet approached him, prompting him to sit up and greet his mother who had brought him freshly squeezed lemonade, to sit on the grass with him.

              “I just spoke to Simon’s mother,” she said. “We invited them to come over for dinner on Tuesday night, so hopefully we can make some new friends and find a resolution for you boys at school.” Jonathan finished his lemonade and lay back down in the grass.

              “That sounds great, Mom,” he said, “Honestly, I really don’t know what kind of solution we can come up with. Simon and I pretty much keep to ourselves and avoid the empty, selfish popular cliques that are so common at school. Both of us feel really out of place there and do our best to avoid becoming the ones picked on by the popular kids.”

              Jonathan returned home from school on Tuesday afternoon, wandered around the house, and waited for their company to arrive. Thirty minutes into dinner, the six of them sat around the table, talking about the value of homeschooling, the tragic lack of quality education found in the public school system, and the vanity and foolishness of most of society. Simon’s father spoke up with a specific idea.

              “You boys should try to find if there are any other students similar to yourselves,” he said. “Think how much better each day of school would be if you had others to interact with, to encourage, and to hopefully impact others in a positive way.”

              “You are right, sir,” Jonathan said. “Simon and I have spent a great deal of time interacting with many different students, both younger and older, but we have failed to find anyone who is remotely like us. I believe we are the only two students in our grade that were homeschooled, including the grade above us and the grade below us.”

              “Jonathan is right, Dad,” Simon said. “We always sit alone in the far corner of the cafeteria and lament how empty and ignorant all of the other students are. No one seems to have any common sense, original ideas, or thoughts about how to make their own life better, or to help others. It really is sad. We have put in a great deal of effort to find anyone who would be valuable to interact with.”

              They finished their meal and Agatha and Simon’s mother cleaned the kitchen and dining room, while the two men and the two boys sat together in the living room, continuing their talk and disappointment with their fellow students. The clock reached nine and Jonathan watched his friend, and parents leave for the evening.

              “Simon’s father is right,” Alexander said. “You’ll probably need to lower your expectations quite a bit if you hope to find someone with whom to interact. I know you would be shocked if you could see what kind of homes most of these kids come from. Most people spend their time being distracted by social media and television. So, we shouldn’t be surprised that no one has any deep thoughts or concerns for others.”

              “Okay, Dad,” he said. “Simon and I will talk about it tomorrow morning and see if we can find someone to connect with, to stir up thoughts or ideas, and hopefully help move them in a good direction. This is going to be difficult, because most people only pretend to like us but then go about their business with no concern or thoughts about anything valuable."

              "Okay, put in extra effort tomorrow,” he said. “I look forward to hearing about your day tomorrow night during dinner. I think you’ll be surprised at the positive impact you can make on others if you present them with something of value and depth.”

              Jonathan shuffled down his driveway the next morning to join Simon on the bus ride to school. The first three periods passed, and they entered the cafeteria last, scanning over the mass of students who seemed to have no concerns at all about anything of value. Jonathan made eye contact with a rather grumpy looking young man in a leather jacket and a Slayer t-shirt. He used his minimal knowledge of metal music to start a conversation with him. As the three of them sat down at their usual corner table, three other young men in leather jackets joined them.

              Simon and Jonathan were thrilled with this new connection and were surprised to find how articulate and thoughtful these young men were. They learned that the four of them were in a band and invited them to come over that evening after dinner to listen to them rehearse. The boys agreed, wrote down the address and time, finished their lunches and returned to their next class.

              “This is going to be really interesting,” Jonathan said. “Call me tonight after dinner after you talk to your parents. Of course, we’ll need to get a ride to this address, because it is a long way away from both of our homes.”

              Jonathan joined his parents for dinner that evening and shared the unusual experience he and Simon had with the four leather clad young men and their plans for the evening. Jonathan’s father offered to drive them to the address and would return in two hours to bring them home. Both boys were widely smiling when Alexander arrived and drove them home.

              Each night during dinner, Jonathan shared the conversations he and Simon had with their four new friends. Agatha could see her son’s eyes gleaming with joy and excitement as he spoke of their conversations and the direction the boys were leading their new friends. The next day at school Jonathan and Simon entered the lunchroom and were immediately joined by their four new friends at their corner table.

              “Hey,” Jonathan said, “Simon and I were talking, and we came up with an idea that I think you’ll really like. Your band is really good, and we were thinking that we could schedule a concert for you and promote it. We’ll divide the profits evenly between the six of us and we were thinking that we would donate our portion of the proceeds to a small organization in town that buys food for families in need. We’ll do all the promotion work and I am certain that your music will draw in a lot of people. What do you think?”

              James, the vocalist spoke up first, and said he was thrilled at the idea, and they could easily perform for at least an hour or an hour and a half. “Let us know the details about when and where, so yes, we would love to do a concert. We’re getting close to the end of the school year so it will need to be soon.”

              “That’s awesome,” Simon said. “We already found a small venue that we can afford, and we were thinking that Friday night on this coming weekend would be good. If you’re okay with that, we’ll start posting around the school and around town.”

              “Yeah, we can do that, “he said. “That gives us five days to create a set list. We’ve been practicing for a long time, and we all think we’re ready to dive in. Let’s schedule it for eight o’clock. Send me the address and we’ll be ready.”

              Friday night arrived quickly, and the six boys watched the small venue fill to capacity with about three hundred people. Jonathan and Simon stood at the back and watched the packed venue throb as a single entity with happy and excited fans. Nine thirty rolled up and the venue emptied out. Simon started dividing up the money into six parts and was surprised to learn from the band that he and Jonathan should donate all of the money to the business that helped people.

              “Wow, thank you, guys,” Jonathan said. “This is exactly the kind of thing that makes us different than everyone else. I would bet that we could do a concert like this once a month and begin generating a regular income for you.”

“That would be awesome,” the drummer said. “We’ll leave that up to you to plan but keep us in the loop so we can always be ready. It’s weird to think that the two new guys who just happened to connect with us have brought about a great new path forward for the band. I certainly didn’t see that coming.  Thanks a lot, Jonathan and Simon. You have our numbers so stay in touch.”

Weaved into the Fabric

 

            The Anderson family were well known and greatly loved in their community, but their fourth child, a little girl named Annalise was nothing like her two older sisters, who wanted to do nothing more than succeed in their modeling careers, while Annalise was only interested in being like her father who was a diesel mechanic with an incredible ability to fix anything that fell out before him.

              She would sit at the threshold of her sister’s bedroom door, watching them as they dressed up, apply makeup to one another, and send pictures to boys at the university, all of which greatly confused her, leaving her wondering why they did nothing of actual value to make the world a better place. Annalise found it simpler to merely pull her hair back into a single ponytail, wear jeans and a t-shirt and befriend anyone and everyone who would speak with her.

              While her sisters would spend their afternoons after school scrolling through social media, giggling, and sending texts to more boys that she could count, Annalise would sit with her father, ask questions about his work, offer suggestions for problems that plagued him, and read his relatively small library of books on mechanical engines. She and her father would spend weekends taking apart engines in their garage and afterwards she would look at her grease-stained hands, often comparing herself to her sisters who knew nothing but fashion and vanity.

              As she reached her later teenage years, she began to draw attention from the boys at school, who saw her as someone different and better than the empty-headed, silly, and vain girls that surrounded them. In what were supposed to be dates, Annalise would end up spending time with “the guys” talking about cars, engines, recent repair jobs she accomplished and their plans to graduate and work through trade school.

              Though she was plain, friendly, and talkative, all of her friends at school knew that she was secretly beautiful and wondered why she put so little time into taking advantage of her appearance to gain more attention from the many boys who were enamored with her. She still despised her empty-headed sisters and their ridiculous vanity, desiring to find a man who was a replica of her father. Someone who knew how to work, who knew how to sacrifice and provide for others, so she was not willing to settle for vanity and distraction.

              She watched her sisters drop out of university to pursue careers in modeling, leaving behind a grand opportunity to make something good of themselves, to learn, to grow, and to add genuine value to the world. As her final year of high school finished, she and her brother remained at home alone with their parents, no longer having the ridiculous distraction of their older sisters to waste their time.

              Annalise, Robert, Paul, and Anthony, known as the Quadrinity, all agreed to enroll at the trade school in the diesel mechanics class, being there for one another, helping one another, bouncing questions and answers between them all, knowing that having close friends to discuss and solve problems would be a huge advantage for them to achieve their final success. After making the decision to enroll, she explained her dreams and plans to her father, who could not have been more pleased with her passion to do and be more.

              Two years of trade school passed and saw Annalise and her three friends graduate, to then move on and open their own diesel mechanic’s shop. They chose the name ARPA Mechanics Shop and within two weeks of purchasing all of their necessary equipment, they saw a remarkable growth in their client base. Anthony was especially good with the business side of things and occasionally helped when the shop became too busy for the other three to meet their deadlines.

              Annalise could feel herself desiring for a place of her own, no longer wanting to share a living space with her brother and parents, which eventually led to the four of them renting an apartment that was much closer to their shop. Eighteen months into their new living arrangements, Annalise and Robert began to draw close together, having the same interests and a desire to be together as more than mere friends.

              Tensions began to mount as Paul and Anthony could see the friendly dynamic beginning to change with this new twist in relationships between them all. Paul and Anthony made the announcement that they would be moving out because of the way that things had changed between them all. Robert and Annalise sat together on the couch and watched their two friends slowly pack all of their belongings, leaving them with a half-decorated home.

              “Well, this is kind of awkward,” Robert said, “I don’t think this change in living arrangement will have any impact on our business, at least I hope not.”

              “Honestly, Robert,” she said, “I think this will be better anyway. Paul and Anthony are good friends, but it has become kind of awkward now that you and I are together. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble paying our bills. Let’s go get some ice cream. I feel like celebrating."

              Robert stood, pulled Annalise to her feet and the two of them walked downtown to the Cold Stone Creamery. They ordered their favorite dessert, sat down, and distracted themselves with people watching, Annalise wondering why she was so different from all of the other girls at school, in the community, and in this ice cream shop.

              “Are you happy with me, Robert?” she asked.

              “Yes, I absolutely am,” he said. “You are exactly the person I want to be with. I am so glad you are not silly and distracted like all of the other girls, at school, in the community, and here. We are the perfect couple, and I would never trade you for anyone else. Please continue being you.”

              She looked down at her short, and grease-stained fingernails, to immediately look around at the bright and shiny girls around her with their fashionable clothing and manicured, colorful nails. She gazed across the table to look into Robert’s eyes and wiped a bit of ice cream from the corner of his mouth.

              “This was so nice to get out and do something different,” she said. “I can’t wait to make a new, free, and beautiful life with you. It’ll be nice to have our apartment to ourselves without having to worry about being interrupted by Paul and Anthony.”

              Three more months passed as Annalise, Robert, Paul, and Anthony continued growing as the best diesel mechanic shop to go to in town. Their friendships remained strong and solid, creating a happy and whole relationship at the shop and on the occasional after work get togethers. The four of them went to a movie on a Friday night, went their separate ways and returned to their homes.

              Robert and Annalise took the elevator to the second floor, silently slipped into their apartment. He closed the door behind them, dropped to one knee and held out a small jewelry box, working hard to not break into tears, asking Annalise to marry him and make a right and proper household.

              She immediately said yes, kissed him, and pulled him to the dining room table. “We need to start making plans, we need to tell our friends and parents. I don’t want to wait too long. This is something I have been wanting for a long time.”

              “I’ve been planning this moment for the last month,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll need more than three months to put this together. I think we can make this a small ceremony for only a few friends and family. I’ve said this earlier, I am so incredibly happy that you are with me, and I really love you for who you are.”

              Six months after the small wedding ceremony in Annalise’s parent’s backyard, she found her waistline growing, now that Robert Junior was growing inside of her.

              “Please be careful in the shop,” Robert said. “Don’t lift anything heavy. All of us can take care of those things. Your health and the baby’s health are the most important things here, right now. I know that both your mom and my mom are willing to watch him once in a while. It would be good if you could do the part time work thing and stay at home mom thing. Being with our little goober is really important.”

              Three more months passed, and Annalise watched her fingernails grow and become less grease stained. She watched little Robert Junior grow, spend three or four days a week at home with him, or visiting her mom, her mother-in-law, and occasionally stopping in at the shop, taking care of the business side of things while her husband and two friends maintained a thriving diesel mechanics business.

              Five years passed and Robert Junior began attending kindergarten, which allowed Annalise to put in more time at the shop, and keeping her home clean and in order, loving the fact that she could be the mostly stay-a-home wife and mother who could take care of her husband’s needs while he spent many hours in the shop.

In Transition

 

            In what would be their last Russian winter, the extremely cold temperatures slowly began to rise, bringing a sliver of joy to their lives, thankful for the opportunity to reduce the multiple layers of clothing to fight off the threat of frostbite. Nikolai watched his breath turn into clouds as he spoke with his beautiful wife, Tatyana in their tiny three-room apartment. They had burned the last of their firewood only three days hence, struggling to stay warm with their multiple layers of clothing.

              Ivan, their oldest son had completed university, began his work as a software developer, and purchased his own home on the other side of the city. Svetlana, their second oldest child, had met a wonderful young man as she worked as a barista. After six months of interaction, he proposed, promised to care for her, and free her from the necessity to work a job that she really didn’t care for all that much. Their youngest child, Dmitri was nearing his final year of university with a promise of employment with a local manufacturing company as its production manager.

              Nikolai rose from his lumpy and old recliner, turned on Rachmaninoff on their very old record player, and invited his wife to dance with him, knowing that a little activity would warm them both. As they danced, the idea of moving to somewhere warmer came to mind, and he made the suggestion, trusting that some financial help was available from both Ivan and Svetlana.

“I think we should move to Berlin,” he said. “I know a few people there from my time working as a salesman. It is warmer, cleaner, and safer there. I really don’t want to suffer through another winter, and it destroys my soul to see you suffer alongside me. I know we can do better.”

Tatyana hugged him with a ferocity that he had not experienced in many years. They had both reached their sixty-fifth year and were tired of the cold, the loss of friends, and had both been dreaming of making a new start. He glanced at the clock, made a mental note to call Svetlana right away, knowing that she was always home and call Ivan in about ninety minutes when he would arrive home from work. The two phone calls were made, and they received encouragement and promises of help with their financial needs, which triggered many plans in Nikolai’s active mind.

By the end of the week, Ivan and Svetlana visited for a short time, gave them the money they needed to buy train tickets to Berlin and as time passed, they watched all of their belongings slowly disappear as they sold them to friends and neighbors. Now standing in an empty home with two full suitcases and two train tickets, they left behind the apartment that had been their home for the last ten years with visions of a bright new future and hopes for new friends, and the opportunity to grow and learn.

Ivan and Svetlana drove them to the train station, gave them another handful of money and the address for the apartment that they had secured for them in one of the best neighborhoods in west Berlin. They exchanged hugs, said goodbye and made promises to frequently remain in contact as their lives progressed, as decisions were made and as exciting new things took place.

Nikolai helped Tatyana board the train, he loaded their luggage in the overhead bin and took their seats in their private sleep chamber. They sat in silence and watched their beloved Russia disappear behind them as they passed through Belarus and Poland, eventually crossing the German border and entering the outskirts of Berlin. They traveled through late afternoon, early evening, ate a small dinner, and slept the rest of the trip to awaken to a glorious day of sunshine.

Nikolai retrieved their luggage and walked with Tatyana off of the train, to find a taxi to bring them to their new home, which at this point they had not yet seen, trusting that Ivan had thoughtfully considered their needs and dreams of finding a good community. They ascended one flight of stairs to enter a spacious and warm four room apartment already filled with furniture and food.

Tatyana pulled out her list of phone numbers, a list that Svetlana had put together for her. The list would put them in contact with the local priest and many other Russian immigrants who lived nearby. They unloaded their suitcases, found an electric kettle to make some tea to be accompanied by some biscuits before their dinner that evening.

After placing a call to the priest, they received an invitation to travel a few blocks to his house for dinner with three other couples in the parish. As the dinner hour drew close, they dressed for the weather, locked their new apartment when they left, and walked the few blocks to his home. Upon entering his house, they were warmly greeted by three other couples approximately their age and enjoyed a glorious dinner of prime rib, roasted vegetables, and red wine.

Though they greatly missed their native Russia, they immediately felt at home, as if this was a new family they did not know they had so many hours away. The priest drew a small map for them that provided specific directions to the parish, and an approximation of travel time. Weeks turned into months and months turned into years, giving both Nikolai and Tatyana a wonderful new life, new friends, safety and comfort they had not experienced since retiring so many years before.

Four years turned into five and they received an invitation to relocate to the United States to a new growing community of Russian immigrants. The location was safe, beautiful, with reasonably balanced weather, not too extreme in either direction. Knowing that the US was a land of opportunity, they could not resist or pass up this unusual and unexpected chance. They had remained in contact with Ivan, Svetlana, and Dmitri, to again receive financial assistance from them, allowing them to update their passports, buy airplane tickets, and turn in their notice to the apartment landlord of their intent to no longer rent.

Once again laden with two suitcases and a pocket full of cash, they retrieved their airplane tickets from the counter at the airport, formerly reserved by Ivan several days before. The flight from Berlin to Paris was relatively quick, at which time they changed planes and took a very long flight into New York City where they again changed planes to travel to a small city on the opposite side of the country near the Canadian border.

Having no grasp on the English language, they interacted as little as possible with everyone around them, to find that most people were more than happy to help them with whatever needs they had at any particular moment. When they landed in the small city near the Canadian border, they were greeted by another Russian couple who introduced themselves, welcomed them, and allowed them to stay in their home for a few days until they finally gained access to their new home, which had been secured for them by Ivan several months before.

“Tatyana,” Nikolai said, “I have to say that this new city and parish feels so very much like our community in Berlin. It is so wonderful to have many people who understand us and believe the same as we believe. The priest is a wonderful man as well.”

Nikolai received a warm and thankful hug from his beautiful bride of forty-five years. Their original hosts drove them to their home and left them with a phone number for a personal friend who operated a used car dealership. They walked into a spacious, warm, and beautiful home in a safe and comfortable neighborhood. Just like their home in Berlin, it too was fully furnished, and the refrigerator was fully stocked. They immediately placed three phone calls to their children, assuring them that their time traveling was good and uneventful and that a friend would be delivering a car for them the next day.

They learned that their home was only a few minutes away from their new parish, where they immediately connected with many different people. Elderly folk, older families, younger families, and several good and kind widows, who offered to help them establish themselves in this radically different new world, so unlike their native Russia. Their first visit to a grocery store was nearly overwhelming with so many choices.

Each Sunday after the Divine Liturgy, they sat with many from the parish and enjoyed a wonderful meal among lovely friends. Both Nikolai and Tatyana put in great effort to learn a few English words, which gave them a small handle with which to connect and interact with those who only knew the English tongue. They could feel the hope growing within them as they slowly built their vocabulary to become connected with non-Russians and neighbors, genuinely establishing themselves as part of their new world.

The Final Attempt

 

            Nikita sat near the window during the last class of the day, to see the sky fill with dark clouds and watch a slow build of rain that eventually turned into a torrential downpour. He kicked himself for failing to bring an umbrella that day, trusting the report from the weather man that morning as he ate his breakfast. The final bell rang which brought both happiness and disappointment into his heart. He and his classmates gathered their things, escaped to the hallway and their lockers. He paused to watch all of them flee the building and enter either the buses that waited in line for them or take their own cars home.

              He leaned against the wall, slid into a sitting position and waited until absolute silence embraced him, hoping that the rain would either lighten up or stop altogether. He could see the rain continue to fall and seemingly increase as he waited. He rose from his seated position, put on his baseball cap and began the long, wet walk home to find an empty school, an empty parting lot, and very little traffic on the streets.

              He had walked nine blocks and hurried to place himself beneath the branches of a large oak tree at the edge of the forest. He knew that cutting through the forest would reduce his travel time by twenty minutes and also give a bit of coverage from the downpour. As he walked with his head down and his hands in his pockets, he saw several old men ahead of him gathering firewood and waving to him to join them. He paused for a moment, approached them, introduced himself, and received a warm reception.

              Still wearing his backpack, he helped them gather firewood and followed them toward a small collection of buildings discreetly placed within the depths of the forest. One of them introduced himself as Siluoan, invited him inside for some hot tea, an escape from the rain, and a friendly conversation. He learned that this small group of men all belonged to a monastery that put all of their time and efforts into helping others, covering their own basic needs, and making long term plans for expanding the monastery, inviting others to join and imitate their philanthropy.

              As he and the others continued to explain who they were, what they did, and how they made it all work, Nikita could feel his heart shift towards this kind of lifestyle that put the needs of others ahead of personal comfort and luxury. What was supposed to be a short conversation turned into an hour-long dialog, which led to a cessation of the rainfall, allowing Nikita to walk home and eventually dry out. He thanked them for their kindness, their challenge to become someone better, and a promise to adjust his own life to be more like theirs.

              His shortcut, which was supposed save him twenty minutes of travel time, turned into a glorious interaction that rewired his thinking, the direction of his heart and a new idea that moved him to make the world a better place.  He returned home in time to join his parents and younger sister for dinner, now thankfully dry and thoughtful. He considered sharing his experience at the dinner table but ultimately decided against it, wanting to give more thought and create a specific plan to approach this new shape of life.

              The family finished their meal at the same time, he rose from his seat, thanked his mother for making such a delicious meal, and excused himself to warm up with a hot shower after a long, cold walk home. He stood in the silence of the bathroom and replayed the entire conversation with the old men in the forest.

              “Hmm, let’s see here,” he thought. “There were seven old men, maybe I’ll make a plan of seven seven-year cycles to accomplish something great each time and end my life when I’m very old, having created greatness and many things to make the lives of others better.”

              After blow-drying his hair, he returned to his room, pulled a notebook from his backpack and began making a detailed plan of seven seven-year cycles, beginning just after graduating from high school. “Okay, step one,” he said to himself, “I’ll earn my doctorate in business. Step two, I’ll start a business that will allow me to generate enough income to help people. Step three, I’ll figure out a way to give away ninety percent of my profit, because honestly, no one needs to live in comfort and luxury when there are so many people who struggle merely to survive. Step four, I’ll get married, have children, and raise them up to take over this work of philanthropy. Step five, with the business doing well and making great profits, I’ll create another business in another state and hopefully replicate the success. Step six, when business number two finds success, I’ll start a third business and replicate the success of the first two.  Finally, step seven, I’ll create a single organization to oversee all of the financial activity and success.

              Nikita slept well that evening, left early for school, and hurried through the forest to find the old men and share his plan with them. He was once again warmly greeted, invited in for tea, and after sharing his plans for the next almost fifty years, he received cheers and adulation for making such glorious, and selfless plans. He excused himself, thanked them for their kindness and hurried to school, thankfully without having to endure torrential rainfall.

              After graduation, he began his approach to completing step one. Putting in extra time and extra classes to reach his goal of earning his doctorate within seven years. He accomplished step one, returned to his hometown and shared his success with the old men in the forest, asking if there was anything he could do for them to help them succeed in their efforts at expanding their monastery. After working through the details, he offered to pay for the construction of a new building for them that would allow for growth.

              “This,” he thought, “is a first great step toward helping those in need.” After receiving his doctorate in business, he met with three of his classmates, made a plan to start a business built upon philanthropy. As the end of the second seven years reached their end, he made another visit to the old men in the woods and found their new building completed, and housing many others who joined them to make their world a better place. Nikita found overwhelming joy in seeing such success for a group of wonderful old men, who were doing something good for others, rather than building up wealth and comfort.

              The next fourteen years saw his business rapidly grow and succeed, as well as finding a wife and starting a family. All of which led to achieving his goal of giving away ninety percent of his profit, still providing enough income to care for his family, his extended family, and the old men in the forest. Nikita could feel himself growing older and he began a new business in the next state over, which thankfully led to the same success as the first.

              As the seven-year cycle came to an end, he started his third business in another state in the opposite direction, which brought overwhelming joy into his heart and mind, sharing his success and wisdom with his children, now reaching adulthood. With several adult children working with him, he created a new single entity that would be responsible for overseeing the continued growth and success of all of his work, with the old men from the forest providing wisdom and direction as they continued to grow.

              By laws were written, authority based with a board and never on the leadership of a single individual was put into place, freeing the organization the opportunity to focus solely on philanthropy, kindness, and generosity for those who truly needed it. Nikita reached his eightieth birthday, marveling that the plan he created so many years before actually came into being, creating so much help and good for so many others.

              This new approach to life became a reality because he somehow happened to find a group of old men who introduced themselves, encouraged him, and helped form his thinking away from comforts and luxury. The thought of achieving something like this was so far away from the state of his heart before he met the old men. Prior to this chance meeting, he was planning on growing wealthy, finding a young bride, living in a mansion with servants, antiques, and a swimming pool.

              Looking back over the last many decades he nearly wept with joy at the incredible change that had taken place in his life and how his efforts and the direction from the old men radically changed the world, rather than merely satisfying his own passions and lust for comfort and wealth. Nikita could feel his last few days approaching as he lay in bed looking at his children and grandchildren, knowing that he had everything in place to continue the work he began so many years before.

              The day slowly came to an end, and he received a group of visitors from the forest, who surrounded his bed, held hands with him, thanked him for his wonderful efforts and amazing accomplishments. Somehow, he knew that this would be the last time that he would see them, and he continued to marvel at how much good had been achieved, creating a wonderful example for his children and grandchildren.

              “My final attempt was my greatest achievement,” he said to his three sons who returned after the old men left. “Continue the work boys.”