Wednesday, August 27, 2025

Dinner for All

 

            The little boy lay alone on a single blanket on the laminate floor, hidden behind another blanket that had been pinned to the ceiling, creating a type of private room all of his own. The light that bled through the bedroom window was enough to allow him to read the small pile of comic books his mother had found in a dumpster a few blocks from their apartment. The apartment was absolutely silent, a painful reminder of how common it was for him to spend his evenings cold, hungry, and longing for company.

              He knew he had been alone for many hours, prompting him to slip out from behind his blanket to see that the clock in the living room had finally reached the ten o’clock hour. The sound of a key in the front door lock triggered a fight or flight response in him, pushing him to hurry back to his tiny, cold, and empty space. He curled up on the thin, single blanket that served as his sleep space, to hear his mother and a random stranger stagger into the apartment and enter the other bedroom.

              The banging on the wall, the sound of his mother’s labored breathing, and the bestial growls of the random stranger assaulted his hearing, bringing up images of his mother from so many nights just like this one. Little Jesse drilled his fingers into his ears to drown out the horrible sounds, the slaps and the punches that always left his mother begging for mercy.

              Evenings like this one were common, one bleeding into the next, until Jesse could no longer keep track of how many men followed his mother into their apartment, abused her, paid her cash, and then left after about an hour. Every evening was the same, she would arrive around ten o’clock with one stranger, to then leave shortly after he departed, to then return an hour later with another stranger, and repeat the cycle over and over.

              The following morning Jesse woke to an empty apartment, cold, hungry, and confused about the absence of his mother. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered to himself. “She is always here in the morning to make me breakfast, to hug me, and to make sure that I have everything that I need.” Following his usual routine, he took a quick shower, dressed appropriately for the cold weather, and searched through the kitchen in hopes of finding something to eat.

              The only fruit from his searching endeavors was a mostly empty box of breakfast cereal and a single bottle of ketchup in the refrigerator. He warmed up a cup of water in the microwave to pour over the meagre portion of cereal, which would barely begin to satiate his raging hunger. He finished his meal, searched through his mother’s bedroom to find a wad of cash, which would allow him to make a trip to the grocery store only three blocks away.

              He slipped on his shoes and jacket to brave the cold walk, stepping over homeless people, garbage, and countless syringes. He reached the opening of an alleyway and saw a pair of bare legs sticking out from underneath a pile of cardboard. He recognized a tattoo on the left leg which perfectly matched that of his mothers. “Oh, no, this is not good,” he said under his breath. He hurried into the alley, pulled the cardboard away and looked into the face of his mother, motionless and slightly blue.

              A wave of nausea passed over him as he wondered what would become of him now that he was truly alone. He hurried from the scene, found a police officer and led him back to his mother. “Oh, little man, I am so sorry,” the officer said. “Here, come with me back to my police car. You need somewhere safe to be, while I call child protective services.” Jesse sat in the back seat of the car and pressed his forehead onto his knees, terrified at what was going to happen next.

              Within a few minutes, a middle-aged woman arrived and took him to a beautiful, warm, and safe home. She introduced him to a woman a few years older than his mother, who was clean, kind, and gentle. The three of them sat down at the kitchen counter for a snack, of which Jesse was utterly thankful, as he was still hungry from his small portion of breakfast cereal.

              He watched the two women fill out some paperwork and then the middle-aged woman left, which was followed by the kind woman in her beautiful home showing Jesse his own room with an actual bed and a private bathroom. Before the woman had a chance to leave, he hugged her with intensity and flopped down on the soft and warm bed.

              “I was about to start making lunch,” she said. “Come downstairs in about twenty minutes and we can enjoy a meal together. You can call me Carole.”

              “Thank you, Carole,” Jesse said. “You have beautiful, warm, and comfortable home. This is nothing like the home my mother provided for me. Do you live here alone?”

              “No, my husband James is at work right now,” she said. “He’ll be back around five o’clock and the three of us can enjoy dinner together. I know that the three of us will get to know one another well. I am excited to hear about you, what things you like, and what we can do to make you feel safe and comfortable.”

              Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, and during all of this time, Jesse grew in a loving, kind, gentle, and generous young man, well-educated with a heart toward helping people. He graduated from high school and began a series of classes at a local culinary school. His cold, lonely, and empty childhood before coming to live with Carole and James, moved him to find great joy in creating wonderful meals for other people.

              He graduated at the top of his class and began developing the idea of starting his own restaurant in the oldest, poorest, and most troubled part of the city. James and Carole offered to buy everything he would need to establish the restaurant and hire workers to assist him.

              “James and Carole, I was thinking that I would just serve breakfast and lunch,” he said. “But in the evenings, I would provide free meals to the homeless people and the prostitutes that fill our city. So many people look down upon these poor souls and treat them as if they were less than human. If I can do good, help them, and feed them, their lives will be that much better.”

              Jesse spent the next two weeks visiting multiple different locations for his restaurant until finally deciding on one that perfectly satisfied his ideas. He hired a group of college students to empty the building, clean it, and bring it up to code for the health department. Once everything was ready, he ordered the kitchen equipment, the tables and chairs, and created an account with a food delivery service. Within two weeks of everything arriving, he began advertising and saw a wonderful flood of people visiting his restaurant.

              After establishing a good name and reputation, he began to interact with the homeless people and the prostitutes, inviting them to his restaurant anytime they were hungry during the dinner hours. Breakfast and lunch hours were always remarkably busy, which led to an abundance of income, allowing him to provide free meals for those who were truly in need. Each time he watched a young woman enter the restaurant, he was reminded of his mother and the suffering she went through so many evenings.

              He greeted each person as they entered his restaurant, speaking softly and kindly, offering them any meal they desired. He could see every bruise, every tattoo, and the heart-rending hollowness in their eyes. The occasional person would stick out as unusual and he could see potential in some, hoping they would turn away from their poor life choices, occasionally offering them a chance to work in his restaurant, as a greeter, a dishwasher and sometimes as a waiter.

              He could see the emptiness and coldness melt within them when they spoke. “If only someone could have offered my mother something like this,” he thought. “But if they had, I wouldn’t be in this situation to help these people in this way.” Finally, one young woman accepted his offer to work in the kitchen and her work ethic was exceptional, her attitude and thankfulness were surprising. The joy that filled him as he watched her slowly transition into a healthy person with hopes and dreams now within her reach, moved him to offer her more opportunities to grow, to learn, and learn how to love and care for others.

              Many years passed and Jesse watched his restaurant continue to blossom, allowing him to open other restaurants around other difficult places in the city. In each of them, he continued to hire more homeless people and prostitutes, giving them the opportunity to improve themselves, grow, and learn. As he continued to grow older, he became friends with many of these people who had never truly known love or kindness. Jesse never married but he established his string of restaurants under a board of directors who would continue the work after he grew too old to eventually pass away.


Wednesday, August 20, 2025

The Unknown Need

 

            Stephen, the only child in the Adamos family, sat with his parents as they celebrated his tenth birthday. He looked around the relatively empty room, a small birthday cake in the center of the table and a frozen pizza slowly cooking in the oven in the kitchen behind him. He could feel the rage and disappointment emanating from his father, while his mother sat helpless across the table, her eye swollen shut, the fruit of his father’s uncontrollable hatred and rage.

              He put on a plastic smile to communicate the message that he was thankful for the meagre celebration before him, but his heart slowly shriveled as he replayed his mother’s cries and pleadings for mercy while his father beat her. Stephen was far too small to intervene or protect his mother, knowing that every morning when he emerged from his bedroom he would find his mother carrying new wounds on her tiny frame.

              The oven timer dinged, communicating the fact that dinner was ready, and Stephen watched his mother carefully rise from her seat, wincing with every movement to deliver their meagre dinner between the three of them. He thanked his mother as she placed the plate in front of him, while his father merely grunted and finished his beer.

              The three of them slowly ate the celebration meal and Stephen watched his father drink four more beers with his pizza. Now that the pizza was gone, the cake was divided into three portions, the largest for his father and the remaining portion was divided in half between him and his mother. The small boy hated his life, knowing that more beatings would be taking place that evening after he had gone to bed, the sounds of his mother crying and begging for mercy as he tried to fall asleep.

              He woke the next morning to a stream of profanity from his father and the sound of the front door slamming shut. Terrified at what he would find when he emerged from his bedroom, he waited a few moments with the hope that his father was truly gone from their home. He slipped out of his bed, changed from his pajamas into his clothes for school that day, to find his mother lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. Following what he had seen in the movies, he checked for a pulse to happily find that she was still alive and breathing.

              Knowing that his father would likely return, he locked the front door and the back door, sliding a chair under each handle, and quickly looked through each room in search of his mother’s cellphone, to eventually find it in her purse. He dialed 911 and gave a detailed description of what he found when he emerged from his bedroom. Within thirty minutes he welcomed the police into their home, who were shortly thereafter followed by the EMT’s who carefully lifted his broken mother from the floor onto the gurney.

              He sat in silence with two police officers until child protective services arrived to bring him somewhere safe. As they drove away, he told them everything he knew about his father, where he worked, his extended family whom he rarely saw, and his need to go to school that day. Sick with worry about his mother and the certain violent reaction from his father when he returned home to an empty house.

              Stephen was taken for a quick medical check-up and was delivered to school with instructions to the principal that CPS would be bringing Stephen to a safe home at the end of the school day. Distracted and terrified with concern over his mother, he felt like a zombie as he moved through the hallways, going from class to class, deliberately avoiding interaction with other students and teachers.

              The final bell rang for the day and Stephen hurried to the principal’s office to wait for the kind people from CPS to arrive and take him to see his mother before being transferred into a safe home with people he did not know. They arrived at the hospital, walked inside, and he took hold of his mother’s hand to then slide into bed next to her, knowing that she needed to be loved and protected.

              “You don’t need to worry, Stephen,” she said. “The police have taken your father away. He won’t hurt either one of us again. I need a few days to heal so you’ll need to stay with the nice family who have agreed to take care of you and give you all you need to recover. When I am strong enough, you and I can return home and be safe without the abuse we’ve endured for so long. Please be a good boy. I love you.”

              Stephen slid down from his mother’s side, kissed her hand, and joined the two CPS agents in the hallway. They returned to the car, drove for twenty minutes and entered the most beautiful and peaceful home he had ever experienced. He was introduced to a younger couple with an infant, who hugged him, offered him a snack and showed him to his own bedroom which was soft, beautiful and filled with toys and clothing, specifically chosen for him.

              He thanked them both, hugged them, and joined them for a dinner of fried chicken, steamed vegetables, and milk. He was in awe as he enjoyed the peaceful, gentle conversation that followed for the next thirty minutes. There was no violence, angry words, or threats of abuse. The three of them worked together, cleaning the kitchen, and leaving the house in an organized, beautiful state as they left the house to visit the elderly at a retirement home.

              Stephen was introduced to several other children his age, as they all began to engage in friendly conversation with many old people who had no one else, no family, no friends, and a deep need for kindness and love. The little boy marveled that such a world existed, where people were kind to one another, spoke gently to one another and truly enjoyed one another’s company, playing games, asking questions, and were genuinely interested in him.

              After two hours of pleasantries, they all left the retirement home and stopped for ice cream before returning home. Stephen could feel his heart growing warm and thrilled to learn that life was not at all about merely surviving but thriving. He and these new, kind people sat together in the restaurant enjoying their sweet dessert to then return to a quiet, beautiful, peaceful home, one without anger or violence.

              The three of them sat together listening to classical music, when the phone rang. “Oh, it’s CPS,” the woman said. She answered the call, stepped into the other room and returned within a few minutes. “Stephen,” she said. “They are saying that you’ll be staying with us tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night. Your mother is recovering quickly and will pick you up the next day. We will make sure that you go to school each day and come back here to wait for her to pick you up.”

              “Thank you, ma’am,” he answered. “Thank you so much for taking care of me and for being so kind. Your home is so quiet, peaceful and beautiful. I did not know that a home could be like this. I am quite tired. Can I go to bed now?”

              “Yes, of course,” she said. “I can help you get ready for a shower before bed if you’d like. I know that you’ll sleep well, and you’ll be safe with no need to worry about anything going wrong.”

              Stephen and his foster mother ascended the stairs, she took out a pair of pajamas from the dresser, started the shower for him, showed him where everything was in the bathroom and left him to take care of his needs. The little boy marveled at the beautiful bedroom, the beautiful private bathroom, the warm shower and the cozy pajamas that fit him perfectly.

              Two days passed, and he returned home from school to find his mother waiting for him in the kitchen of the foster home, looking rested and at peace. He carefully hugged her, knowing that she would still be somewhat sore from all that had happened.

              “Oh, Stephen, it is so good to see you,” she said. “We can be together now and there is no need to be concerned about your father. He will not be returning to our home. The police have established a safe new reality for us where he cannot be anywhere near us.” She rose from her chair, knelt down, and embraced him with a genuine motherly love, knowing that her little boy missed her as much as she missed him.

              “Thank you so much for taking care of Stephen,” she said to the foster parents.  They then left the beautiful, peaceful house, drove back to their own home and sat together in a home free of violence, anger, and profanity.

“Oh, Stephen,” she said. “The foster family has offered to help support us while your father is no longer part of our lives. They spoke very highly of you and thought that you were a very kind, thankful, and wonderful little boy. Of course, I already knew that. Our time together will be so good now. This is how life should be, a quiet, peaceful home that has nothing violent or ugly within it. We can spend good time together and love one another. I am so excited to hear about your time with the foster family. Tell me all of the details.”

“Now that father is no longer here,” he said. “I know that our home can be quiet and peaceful like their home. They spoke kindly and gently to one another with beautiful music playing in the background and no anger. I hope I have the chance to see them again and thank them for all of the good they have done for us.”

“Yes, we can make that happen,” she said. “I have their phone number, and I know we can spend some time together with them. They are good people, and I know they truly enjoyed their time with you. It is good to pay back kindness when someone else has been kind to us.”


Wednesday, August 13, 2025

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 cafĂ© on the corner of Maple and 4th 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.”


Wednesday, August 6, 2025

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.