An Unending Descent

 

            Alexander sat in his living room watching the news which gave consistent reports of the descent of a neighboring country into chaos, suffering, and death. After two months of watching this constant feed of depression, he pulled away from it, wondering if another country would intervene and assist in slowing the descent into devastation. “You are what you take in,” he said to himself. “I really don’t need to be involved in this consistent feed of pain and suffering. There is really nothing that I, as an individual can do to help.”

               Still wearing his pajamas from that morning, he shuffled into his bathroom, washed his hands and face, combed his hair and made the decision to dress into his workout clothes and get into the sunshine outside. Before stepping outside, he worked through a long series of stretches and memories of those he knew, drawing a painful parallel between the horrible news and the life of one of his former associates.

               “Phew, okay, time to get outside and enjoy the warmth and fresh air,” he thought. Before leaving through his front door, he filled a water bottle to take with him, knowing that a long walk in this kind of heat would require additional hydration. As he reached the sidewalk, he created a picture in his mind of his path forward, making a deliberate decision to walk past the home of a former friend who had betrayed him so many years before.

               He began his walk and covered about two miles distance, to slow down as he passed by her house to see an overgrown lawn, a broken-down vehicle in the driveway, and overall decay of the home. “Man, that is so sad,” he muttered. “You really have to wonder what someone is thinking to allow themselves to continue down a path of self-destruction.”

               After passing through three different neighborhoods, he reached a series of strip malls and was moved to buy a dozen doughnuts to enjoy during the coming week. He slipped into a small bakery, purchased a dozen maple bars, left a substantial tip, and continued his journey on the path he had previously envisioned. The beautiful and well-manicured homes of the local neighborhoods transitioned into strip malls, and eventually into poverty-stricken inner city.

                As he reached the edge of the inner city, he could see dozens of scantily clad women standing on the corner one block ahead of him. “I am not going to continue in that direction,” he grumbled. “The last thing I want is to be approached by, or interact with women like that. Hey, wait a minute, that’s my former friend who turned away from me so long ago, and started down the path of self-destruction. Seeing her like this explains why her life and her home look the way they do.”

               Alexander stopped at the corner, crossed the street, and began his journey back home. “This is a horrible situation,” he thought. “Just like the devastation going on in the news, there is nothing I can do to help this situation. If someone refuses an offer of help, refuses to talk, and is intent on continuing into self-destruction, there is nothing I can do.” Continuing for half a block, he sat down on a bench at the edge of a park and looked back at the collection of sad, broken, and corrupted women.

               “Wow, this is so bad and ugly,” he muttered. As he slowly consumed a single doughnut, he watched as one woman after another climbed into various vehicles, selling themselves for cash. “What kind of mindset must a woman be in to put herself into that situation,” he wondered. “The psychological torment, the abuse, and the soul crushing interaction is hardly worth any large amount of money.”

               Tempted to begin on a second doughnut, he resisted the urge, brushed the crumbs from his fingers and lap and continued his journey home. As he passed the residence of his former associate, he saw a car pull into her driveway as she and an elderly man climbed from the vehicle to slip inside the house. “Like I said earlier, there is nothing I can do if someone wants to make bad decisions that will ultimately ruin their life.”

               In what became a pattern every six days, he eventually finished his bag of doughnuts, began taking walks on his predetermined path, to see the home of his former associate continue its decline into chaos and noise. “I really need to buy another bag of doughnuts,” he said, after entering and leaving the store, he avoided the corner a block ahead of him. “Same as always, I really have no interest in weaving through that ugly situation or interacting with women like that.”

               In what became a regular pattern for him, he turned one block early, sat on the park bench and felt sad for the decisions that so many women like this were making. After finishing his one doughnut, he rose to his feet, and continued his path home, to once again see his former associate enter her decaying home with another strange, elderly man. “Oof, what a life to live, what a price to pay in order to take in enough money,” he lamented. “Too bad, so sad.”

               This regular pattern continued for five more years and after the passing of this time, he no longer saw his former associate on the corner. “Getting too old for that kind of work, I suppose,” he said. “Now what is she going to do?” He knew that she had children that were most likely being neglected and possibly abused, feeling sick at the idea of children being subjected to that sort of lifestyle and corruption.

               “Okay, no more doughnuts,” he said to himself. “I think I’ll swing through the grocery store and buy some fruit instead.” The closest grocery store was three blocks past the corner of corruption and depravity. Instead of stopping for doughnuts, he moved to the other side of the street, continued on his way and purchased a bag of apples. As he watched the corner full of women on his way home, he felt sick inside at the young age of so many of them. “This is just so wrong,” he grumbled.

               “All of this walking and change to healthy eating will certainly improve my quality of life,” he said to himself. As Alexander approached the home of his former associate, he was shocked to see that the house was for sale, the yard had been cleaned and organized and he wondered what exactly had happened to come to this. “I guess we’ll see if someone decent buys the house and takes care of it.”

               He returned home with his bag of apples, retrieved his mail from his mailbox and found an invitation to a funeral three days hence. Unlocking his front door, he dropped his apples into his refrigerator, sat down, and opened the invitation. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he grumbled, “it is exactly who I knew it would be. I suppose the decent thing would be to attend the service and interact with everyone there. Not like I really have any interest in being there but I should do the right thing.”

               Now being fully retired, he rose early that morning, showered, dressed in his best clothing and drove to the cemetery for the service. “Would you look at that,” he said, “I am only seeing about eight people standing around the gravesite.” He parked a short distance away, slowly approached the small group, smiled and said hello to listen to an unknown pastor talk about the departed in words that were easily too kind and actually dishonest.

               The pastor finished his short eulogy and invited anyone else to offer a few words if they had any. No one took advantage of his offer and Alexander casually interacted with the few people there, asking questions about how they knew her, what was the cause of her demise and if she had any family in the area. He learned that she had died from multiple STD’s and loneliness, reaching an age when her chosen line of work was no longer possible.

               Offering words of consolation to those who attended her funeral, he departed alone, returned home, and placed a few phone calls with those who formerly knew her or had been friends with her in the past. Communicating the sad news of her demise, he did his best to speak highly of her without sounding judgmental. After multiple phone calls, he and some of them agreed to gather for a small reunion and possibly dinner.

               He felt torn up inside as he thought about the troubling past, the terrible path that she had chosen to finish her life and the negative impact those choices had upon those who knew her, were related to her, and were devastated at her path into a life of corruption and deception. Alexander spent the next three hours wondering about the meaning of it all and if there was anything he could do to help those impacted by her choice of lifestyle.

               Four more days passed and after a pleasant meal with former friends, he relived fond memories, good vacations, and time with her and them, to find himself aching inside when he returned home. “Alright then, time to move forward because now there is nothing else that can be done, other than making the best version of myself as I move through the next several decades.”

I'll Meet You at the End

 

            It was an attraction of opposites that left most people baffled and confused. Similar to combining water and oil, they mixed for a little while and eventually struggled through the disconnect and made it work. Promises were made with the best of intentions, ideas were formed based on guesswork and hopes for change and after decades of hard work, interaction, and faithfulness, eventually the entire situation fell apart.

               One gave up and the other continued to be faithful, committed and passionate about achieving resolution. The day finally came when unfaithfulness won the battle, disappointment filled every corner of every conversation, and the weight of failure brought despair and anger to the surface. After many months of the one no longer caring or no longer trying to find resolution, the truth of the situation came to a head, revealing an adulterous relationship that seemed to be more important than anything else.

               Money became the driving force behind every decision, all of the decades of hard work were thrown away as if the hoped for future would provide something better. Like watching a beautiful building that had been decades under construction burn to the ground with no one seeming to care. Like finding a container of food in the back of the refrigerator that had become green and hairy, everything was thrown away to begin something new.

               After several years of separation, it became obvious that money was the most important aspect of the new reality. Promises that had been made by some and others, some of these turned into nothing of value and some of them proved to be lies and deception. Every effort was made by one of them while the other was more focused on vanity, finances, and creating a good image for others to observe and comment on.

               Like someone in the midwestern states on their front porch watching a tornado pass by destroying and devouring everything in its path, all of the hard work obviously became nothing of importance. Like metal left out in the rain to eventually become nothing but a pile of rust and waste, a new beginning was clearly the new reality. So much hard work, so much commitment, and so many plans that never came to fruition, reality was now redefined.

               Many more years passed, which turned into decades and one watched as the other transitioned into emptiness, ingratitude, and selfishness, bringing about nothing of value for the one but great success and a glorious future for the other. Old age became the new reality with fatigue, aches, and glorious plans by one and not the other. Solitude became reality for one and not the other, which eventually led to grief, isolation, and nothing of value for the near future.

               Animosity, anger, and disappointment became the new reality for one and not the other, all of this due to obvious dishonesty, unkind words, and jealousy. One of them grew in new relationships, new friends, and a new community which eventually led to a path that led toward holiness and growth. One could feel the end drawing near, with a great desire to communicate a message to the other, knowing what awaited them on the other side but uncertain about the status of the other on the other side.

               “I’ll meet you at the end,” was the message he wished he could communicate. One watched from a distance, wondering what was taking place inside the mind and heart of the other, wondering what had happened so many years before to lead them to this place and situation. Age was catching up to both of them, hair was becoming gray, wrinkles were appearing, some relationships were destroyed, while others were created, sometimes based on deception and plastic images.

               A radical new reality stepped into place, bringing with it new opportunities, new plans to be formed and pursued, and hopes for something greater and better than had ever been possible before. “Age is irrelevant,” one said to himself, “there is so much to be done, so much to accomplish, and a great deal of good that can be brought to completion.” Making the most of his time, one continued their path of success refusing to be distracted by the emptiness and inanity of the culture around him.

               From one perspective, everything seemed to be falling apart, from the other perspective many great things were being accomplished which were leading to improvements, growth, and maturity. The deception caught up with the one while the other continued to ask questions, find answers, and bring restoration to as many categories of life.

               More years continued to pass and they watched the details of how reality was slowly transitioning, leaving one in isolation and solitude, while the other was developing great new, healthy relationships, new friends, and a new community, all of which brought joy and happiness. The other began to wonder where they had gone wrong, eventually realizing that decisions were made that led to this place with nothing of value to show for it.

               The old relationship was now dead, with no genuine interaction, no communication, and nothing of value passing between them. They both continued to grow old, watching marriages take place, grandchildren born, with regret for one but not the other. Both knowing that the meeting at the end of time would come sooner than expected, communication was fabricated, dialog that would most likely never take place, and restoration that would never be.

               The emptiness and vanity of their differing cultures gave one of them nothing of value and they waited for the transition from the current reality into the eternal reality. A life of empty distraction brought no joy, no satisfaction, and no true happiness for the one, while the other put great effort into ignoring the worldly culture that surrounded them, while the other seemed to joyfully embrace the inanity of it all.

               With a perfectly sized new home, graciously remodeled and beautifully crafted, showing the difference of internal versus external. One lived a life that was only thin, cheap, and hollow, while the other crafted every aspect of life toward truth and beauty, pressing toward goodness and love. The end of the first century of their lives drew near and they both wondered who would be the first to depart. One of them watched and wondered while the other finally let go to drift into eternity.

               “Well, there you have it,” one of them said. “I wonder how long I have before I can communicate the final message when we meet on the other side?”

               He spent the next ten years being creative, interacting with his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, knowing that his time would eventually come to an end. Many years before he created an emergency contact list for the day when someone would find him cold and stiff in his beautiful home. Sleeping more than he had in the past, he spent his time reading, learning, creating, and making new friends.

               Eventually crawling out of bed around ten in the morning, he put on several layers of clothing, started a pot of coffee, enjoyed peanut butter toast and bacon to sit down with his latest piece of non-fiction to fill his heart with truth and love. He noticed that his hands and feet had grown strangely cold, despite the fact that he was wearing three pairs of socks and multiple layers of clothing.

               “Phew, why am I so tired?” he wondered. Placing his book on the coffee table before him, he pulled himself to his feet and returned to bed to try to warm up. Within minutes of lying down, he was joined by two very large, flabby cats who understood his need to be warmed up. Drifting into what seemed a beautiful dream, he ascended into eternity to find that many of his loved ones from the past were waiting for him with open arms.

               When he landed on the edge of a beautiful grassy field, he saw her, remembered his comment crafted so many years before, approached her and said, “Well, here we are, like I wondered so many years before, I’ll meet you at the end.” Oddly, she seemed stuck in place while he continued his path toward the glorious light that was relatively close in the distance.

               “I’m sorry you made the choices you did,” he said as he departed. “I’ve got important things to do and people to see. This is our new reality and to me it seems glorious, but you seem to be stuck in place, the result of your lifetime of decisions.”

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.”