Home

On my way home from a ten year absence I had many questions going through my head while on my eight hour flight. I pondered wether this place I grew up in was still home, I wondered what it would be like to come back. I wondered how different my sisters and brothers would all be. I wondered if it would be awkward to get to know them all again. I wondered if my Mother would have me still, I worried that they might not. I didn't know how long I would stay, and I was confused as to why I was coming back in the first place. I hadn't left on good terms, not in the slightest, and now I had finally come to the realization that the wrong doing was all mine. I was to blame for my absence. I had let my offense get in the way of all relationship with my family, I cut them off.
Until now, I sighed, when no amount of pleading from my younger siblings had compelled me to return, death had. It was true, I was suspicious at first and called a few family friends to confirm that it was not some plot to get me to come home. Too many people told me that it was all true. My Father had died two days ago.
My heart gave a twinge of pain and regret when I thought of all the things I'd said to him. I blamed him for everything, while the only thing he could truthfully be blamed for was a love unconditional for his children. I hated myself for the way I had treated him. Dear Father, I never told you that I love you, I never told you that I appreciated you. I returned all your letters unopened and I blocked your phone calls. I was too selfish to see anyone besides my own self, and for that I am sorry. I was wrong. So wrong.
Still old habits die hard and I rose in defense for myself after having these thoughts. I told myself that I was going to go in strong, and cold. I'd take a cab from the airport to my hotel and I wouldn't tell anyone I'd arrived. I would show up at the funeral and say hi to them only when they said hi to me. I would keep things brief and business like. Get in, pay my respects and get out. I wasn't going to tell them where I was staying. I'd rent a car and receive no help from anyone. I'd go back to my hotel afterwards and be proud of the way I'd looked in front of them all. Still brave and independent to the very end. And then... and then I'd cry myself to sleep in a bed not my own, longing for family, longing for friends, wishing I hadn't thrown it all away, wishing I could only get it back. Get him back.
I glanced at the Soldier sitting next to me. He sat straight and wore a serious expression. I wondered where he'd come from, and how long he'd been gone. I wondered what sort of reception awaited him.
As if reading my thoughts the man glanced at me and smiled, he introduced himself and I introduced myself and then he asked me what I did for a living. "I'm a lawyer. For a senator." I answered rather smug, I was very proud of the way I'd taken care of myself. I'd amounted to something. While those country bumpkin parents of mine had both dropped out of college, I had gone to law school and grad school and had shown myself to be better than them. I had always resented that they were nobodies, so I determined that I should be somebody. And I was somebody alright. After my divorce I'd changed my name so now no one else in world shared the same last name as me. I was my own person. All on my own.
I asked the Soldier how long he'd been gone and where he was coming from and he told me that he'd been in Iraq for the past eight and a half months, his wife was having a baby and he was coming home to be with her for the birth, then he'd have to leave again, back to the front. Tears filled his eyes as he spoke and I realized that there were still a few decent men who loved their wives in this world.
"Good luck" I wished him, and as we started our descent I drifted back into my dark revery.
Later as I waited for my taxi I saw the Soldier again, he stood at the curb awaiting his ride. As I watched, a car pulled up, it had barely come to a stop when the door of the passenger side was flung open and very pregnant girl flew out of it with a rather inhuman sort of cry. She held him and he held her as she wept and he wept as well. Watching them I could not help but think, it had only been eight and a half months of separation for the two of them. And I had not seen my family in ten years.
I began to cry as well as I watched them, their relationship was so sweet. She touched his face and asked him what had happened to him, told him how he seemed so old, so hardened, was he sick, she wondered aloud through her tears. He held her and kissed her, "If I'm sick than you have made me well, you and the little one." he bent and kissed her stomach.
I realized that I could not wish this man anymore happiness than he already had; rather I needed him to wish it to me.
I stepped into my taxi as I blinked back my tears. "Where to Miss? Do you have a hotel yet?"
"Yes, I mean no, I mean. I don't want to go to my hotel." I delved deep into my memory and found the address I'd been taught to memorize early in my childhood. "Take me there" I said, "Take me home."

Sometimes I wish I were the Tin Man!

Dear Mr. Tin Man,
So you want a heart? Well I'm afraid you have been misinformed about these little organs so I'd like to set you right. I feel it only my duty as no one else seems to want to tell you. I envy you your heartless condition, you have no idea what is like to feel like your chest is being torn into, and there are levels of pain that you've never had to endure and for that I envy you.
The first thing you aught to know about hearts is that they are fickle. One day you may absolutely adore someone, and the next you may want to strangle that same someone. It usually is based off of something that person may have said or done, but regardless of others, you have to make choices that go completely against your hearts desires. What role does the heart play in this process? It clings with all its might to the pain of having been wronged, while you try again and again to throw off that same pain. This will create a sort of tug-o-war game that can only end when you've finally made your heart give up after who knows how many efforts, or after your heart has won. If your heart should win I also pity you, because when the heart wins this tug-o-war game it wraps itself in a blanket called bitterness which makes it stronger, and the next battle will be that much harder for you to win.
The next thing you need to know about hearts is that it has a will of its own. One day I realized that I liked someone, maybe even loved someone, I knew that this was an inconvenient time for me to like anyone. And regardless of that the person who made my heart beat faster was the most inconvenient person I could possibly have liked. While I would give every effort to looking good on the outside hoping that the inside would eventually follow suit, this person was one who would give every effort to looking bad while still being good under that exterior. Not to mention that person was in love with someone else; the girl with the perfect everything. She was also the opposite of me in every way and I never blamed him for loving her. So I set out to reason with my heart "It's no good!" my heart shouted from behind a closed door, "I love him, and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise!" I pounded on the door, "Please, Heart, don't do this to me, we'll only end up hurt, I know! You'll end up hurting the worst and every time you hurt, I hurt. So please, you have to give him up! Let him go! Even if he were the one, this is not the time!" But my heart is obstinate in every way. And it wouldn't even give me the time of day when I brought up the subject. It became a full fledged feud between me and my heart. You've no idea how many times I've wondered "Would it be better to just cut the thing out and throw it away?" This is a war I've yet to win, though I battle every day.
Another thing about hearts that you should know is that they won't say goodbye. It goes against every characteristic of the heart to say goodbye. In a lot of ways the heart is like bubble gum, it will stick to anyone and everyone that it wants to and you wont be able to get it out. When I say goodbye my heart says no. It clings to that person so tightly that when they leave it can only break because it doesn't stretch as far as they can go. If I were to imagine my heart durring those times I think it would look less like a heart and more like a dogs well worn chew toy.
There are a lot of other things that hearts do, including hurting, rebelling, breaking, going cold, going numb, and throwing themselves after every available gentleman (or in your case gentle woman.) But I would rather not get into these right now.
I feel I have given you enough to think about for one letter.
I do think I need to tell you one good thing about hearts though, so that you'll be able to make an unbiased choice. The heart, though we often fight and seldom agree on anything, and though it takes a life time to do, is a beautiful thing once given in submission. When a heart is truly given to a purpose greater than self there is no telling where you'll go together.
Another good thing about hearts is that they keep you alive. It's simple, but vital. I would be dead were it not for my heart.
So Mr. Tin Man, I conclude my letter to you. I've cautioned you to the best of my ability I feel. And you would do well to take all things into consideration. If you still decide that you want a heart, after knowing how much work it is to keep one, then I would not at all blame you, but I would encourage you to give your heart in submission. I have given mine to the creator of hearts, because I assumed He would know best how to handle a rebellious heart. I would recommend the same to you, give your heart to Him when you get it, and you'll be satisfied. You'll still have to fight it sometimes, as often as I've given my heart to Him it somehow ends up back in its place still. But I will spend my entire life if that is what it takes, giving my heart back to Him and hopefully one day it will be permanently His. He is the best guard of hearts, and the best trainer of hearts. He knows hearts far better than anyone else.
Yes, get a heart, for then you can truly live. But don't keep it or allow it to rule you, give it to the Creator of all Hearts, He knows what to do with it, He will teach you.
Signed,
Light

Broken

The soldier lay on the battlefield, his head was spinning, he hurt everywhere. He lifted his head and realized that he could not see his legs, he tried to move his arm and realized that it wouldn't move. Pain shot through his entire body. He looked about for help, was there ANYONE out there? All he could see were other bodies, like his, lying about, missing limbs, he couldn't tell if they were dead or alive.
Hopeless, it was hopeless, he was too far gone, "I may as well give up." He thought, "I may as well die here, on enemy ground, they've won, they've won against me."
No chance of rescue at all, there were still bombs going off all over the place and there were still people dying all around, his friends, dying.
A man fell next to him only to begin crawling away uninjured, but he recognised this man, he called out his name and his friend turned to look, the mans face went pale as he recognised this injured soldier. "Help me!" whispered the injured man weakly. But his friend only turned and crawled away.
"You can't leave me here alone! Remember! We were buddies! Remember me! Please!" But his friend never turned his head again.
The soldier began to cry, he was not only injured and unable to move or to resist any attack, completely unable to protect himself from the enemy who he could hear closing coming closer, but now he was friendless, apparently he was too messed up for even his companion to help him. How then would the enemy let him live?
But did he even want to live? He wondered if he was missing limbs, he wondered if he could live even if he was rescued.
Another soldier tripped over him, this one was an aquaintance. "Help!" He cried, and the man was startled "You're alive?!" He asked, "Oh man, how can I help?" The injured soldier made a quick decision, "Shoot me! Kill me all the way! Please, I would but I cant move, please, I'm in pain, you've gotta help me!" The man shook his head quickly "No way! I'm not gonna do that! I can't do that! You've gotta be crazy!" And he rushed away.
Now the injured soldier could hear the enemy tanks coming closer and his heart beat nearly as loud as the gunshots that still rang out. The only thing for it was to pretend he was dead and perhaps he wouldn't be noticed. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, but it came in such great gasps that he could not. Suddenly there was an explosion that was louder than all the rest and he could no longer hear the tank. The shots became fewer and with more space in between until he could no longer hear any.
Now the moaning from the wounded began, and the shouts for a medic. The injured soldier was by now in so much pain that he did not even want to cry out anymore. "Maybe they'll find me here, maybe they won't, it probably doesn't matter at this point, I'll probably just die anyway." And he didn't cry for help.
"Hey! This one is alive!" Shouted a voice, and he heard their feet close to him, but they weren't helping him, they were helping someone else who groaned nearby. This was his last chance, die or ask for help... and possibly still die.
"Please, help..." He murmured, he mustered his strength and opened his eyes. It took all his strength but he reached out his hand, toward his fellow soldiers.
Sometimes I find myself in this place, where I know I am weak and can no longer fight on my own. I am so tempted to just give up, but there is still something in me that wants to live, and I reach out for help from my friends. I reach out for help from God, and though I am maimed; He still wants me.

The key to the towers

There were once two towers that stood side by side. The only way to get to the top of each was through a door at the bottom, once inside there was a spiral staircase ascending and legend had it that at the top of the stairs there were beasts guarding the doors to the chambers at the top on the towers.
The doors at the bottom of the towers were locked and there was only one key but no one knew who had it. But why would anyone even want to get to the top in the first place? These two towers were horrible lonely places. In their chambers was nothing but pain and despair, torment and loneliness. Each night one could hear the screaming from each tower, horrible, pained and terrified screaming. All longed for a day when it might stop but no one tried to make it stop.
Until a stranger came by. “Who is crying out up in those towers?” He asked.
“They say that long ago two sisters were locked away up there.” Was the answer. “Why? What did they do to deserve that?” Asked the stranger. “It’s not so much what they did, but what someone did to them.” Was the answer. “Why has no one rescued them then?” Asked the stranger. “No one has the key.”
The stranger knew who had the key. “I will go to the Maker, He holds the key to these girls’ cells.” The man went and cried out to the Maker. “Who will free these girls?” and the Maker answered him “I give you the key because you are willing not just to sit by and wonder when someone will rescue these girls, you are willing to rescue them yourself, so go, free my daughters from their torment.”
The stranger took the key and ran to the towers. Unlocking one door he rushed up, up, up the stairs, each step became harder than the last as he climbed and finally he reached the beast at the top that guarded the chamber. He slew the beast and entered the chamber. “I’ve come to rescue you!” He cried.
The girl was dirty and hurt, but she recognized her rescuer and rushed to his arms. He carried her to their Maker and there she was nurtured and loved. She grew strong and became the young lady she was meant to be. She stayed with her Maker all the days of her life.
The stranger went back for the other sister. But when he had unlocked the door, climbed the stairs and slain the beast and he entered and cried “I’ve come to rescue you!” This sister whimpered in fear, she did not recognize her rescuer but hid in a corner of her chamber and whispered “No, I’m afraid. Here I know what to expect. I do not know what is down there waiting for me.” The stranger was not discouraged. He held out his hand toward her and said “Then I will stay here with you until you will come away from this place with me. And he did.

Our Rescuer is always there, holding out His hand whether we want it or nor.

The Battle

All I could see were their faces, their snarling painted faces leering at me. I struggled against their massive blades with my own small sword, but it was obvious to me that these beings were much stronger than I. I’d been wounded and I’d almost lost hope. They were bigger than me, stronger than me, and they seemed like they were much less willing to give up than I was. Still I fought, as well as I could.
There was turmoil all around me and the sound of the battle was so loud that I’d quit hearing it a long time ago, all I could do was flail my sword back and forth in desperation. I remembered I’d started this battle with all my friends in my vision and I’d been keeping an eye on them and watching their backs for a while, but the last had gone, maybe ages ago, and now I felt that I was the only one left on my side. But they said that the reinforcements would be here by now. It was just my luck, I’d been forgotten, my troops had been forgotten, maybe we had been sent on a suicide mission. Maybe they never intended to send reinforcements anyway.
My only goal was to take out as many of the enemy as I could before they took me out. I was exhausted and could hardly breathe. I could feel a dull aching all through my body and I knew that the only thing keeping me alive was my energy. Should I live through this fight, I knew I would not live much longer. I felt that I had sustained injuries that were too great to be mended, but I would not give up; not yet. I was not even standing anymore, my legs were too weak and injured and I fought now on my knees. I’d killed so many that I was sitting on top of them now and I no longer felt their pain, I no longer even felt human.
All hope left me, I knew I was going to die as I saw an axe blade coming toward me from my left, I knew this was the last stand so I turned to face my opponent. Suddenly from above I felt great talons gripping my shoulders and I was lifted above the reach of the axe and all the enemies’ weapons. Was I dead now? I was flying, this didn’t make any sense in my head, yet I accepted it with a strange listlessness. I looked up and I saw the greatest Eagle I’d ever seen, so massive was this creature that I began to tremble in fear; where was it taking me? Had I been rescued from that horrible battle only to be fed to some screeching eaglets? What an ignoble way to die.
“Let me down!” I cried, all at once my passion returned, but the Eagle only glanced down at me and said calmly “You really want to go back into that already?” I was stunned, how could this creature have just spoken to me? “What are you doing with me?” I asked, now truly terrified.
The Eagle responded “Come up higher little one, you’ve seen things on your level for far too long, but it’s time you knew what there is a bigger picture, it’s not all about you. Look to your battle.” I looked and I saw so few of us were left, “Will help come?” I sighed for I had long since given up that hope. “Look to that hill.” Said the Eagle, I looked and I saw a vast army; they were our reinforcements, and they too were in a battle. “So you see,” said the Eagle, “There is more going on than you thought; you thought that the reinforcements were being with-held from you out of sheer cruelty, but the truth is, they are on their way.” I was ashamed at my former bitterness toward those reinforcements, “But when? When will they get here? How many more of us have to die before help arrives?”
“You can help speed up this process.” Said the Eagle. “You have a bow, and a quiver of arrows strapped across your back still from the beginning of your fight, you can pick off the enemy from the air. You’re fully equipped to help the reinforcements.” I got out my bow and my arrows, “I’ve never been the best shot.” I said. “No, but just use one arrow for one enemy, there is a name on each arrow.” I examined the arrows and saw what the Eagle had said to be true; the arrow I held in my hand said Fear on it. “Now do you see that enemy down there that is called Fear?” Asked the Eagle. I looked and I saw the most terrifying beast I’d yet seen, the Eagle nodded, “That’s the one, now send your arrow.” I let fly and watched my arrow sail true and defeat that enemy named fear. “From now on” said the Eagle “You have a new job, stay up here where you can see from my vantage point, and together we’ll make sure that the reinforcements get here.”
We so often get caught up in our own battles that we forget how easy it is to go up higher and see things from the Lords perspective. And when we see from His perspective we are no longer holding it against Him that help hasn’t arrived yet, because we see that help is on its way, and there is something we can do to hurry it along. We have all been given a bow and an arrow, the bow is our mouth and the arrow our prayers, when we go up and see from God’s vantage point we are then able to shoot those prayers into the enemy ranks. Let’s be sharpshooters in our prayers, when you pray, picture in faith your arrow hitting its mark. And let’s not get grounded, for that is where we’ll be defeated, but when we choose to go higher, we have the upper hand.
Let the Holy Spirit lift you up on wings like an Eagle and show you His victorious vantage point.

A rose among thorns

Once upon a time (a sad and unhappy time), there has a beautiful Rose. She lived all by herself, surrounded by thorns. The Rose could not remember anything different, in fact she did not even know that she was a Rose.

All day long the Rose would sit among the thorns believing this was her place, this was where she belonged; she always did feel that she wasn’t quite the same as all the thorns around her, but she couldn’t quite put a petal on the difference. After all she had never seen herself.

One day as the Rose sat drooping among the thorns, she said unhappily to herself, “Why, oh why do I feel like I don’t belong here?
She didn’t even realize that she had said it out loud, and a beautiful sing-song voice answered her, “Because, Rose, you are not meant to be here.” The Rose was startled by the voice and she turned to see a beautiful butterfly hovering over her.

“Who are you?” she asked, “A better question is, who are you?” the Butterfly answered. “I am a thorn.” She answered simply, “No, you are not a thorn, you are a Rose.” “What is a Rose?” The name sounded so sweet, so perfect; too good to be true. The butterfly pointed down to a puddle in the earth, “Look!” The Rose looked down into that puddle, she remembered when it had stormed the night before, how unhappy and afraid that had made her. But even the
storm can bring joy when seen the right way.

The Rose saw her reflection for the first time as a result of that storm she saw a bloom, a pink., glowing, petal covered bloom; so beautiful… “Could that really be me?” She whispered, to which the Butterfly replied “That’s what I thought when I first saw my reflection, after emerging from my chrysalis. What helped me to believe was to see a scar I remembered getting long ago. Do you have any scars?” The Rose remembered a painful memory of being cut by her friends, she looked for the scar and sure enough there was a rip in a few of her petals, “It is me! I’m beautiful! I’m a rose!”
The butterfly smiled, “But it doesn’t end there, you need behave like a Rose if you are one. After I became a Butterfly I had to stop crawling on the ground like a worm and I had to fly, that’s what Butterflies do.”
“Oh, but what do Roses do?” The Rose asked. “I’m not sure,” said the Butterfly, “but I know Someone who does!”

The Rose was eager to hear more, so the Butterfly told her of a Man who had also been torn by thorns, a Man who had also been hurt by His friends, a Man who was perfect, but was surrounded by imperfection. “This Man died, but He still lives, He will surely tell you what Roses do.” The Butterfly ended, “I have to go now, I have to fly to the sun.”

And with that she fluttered away. The Rose looked down at her reflection again. “I can’t stay here.” She said, “But what am I supposed to do?” suddenly a warmth touched her, she raised her blossom to see that there was a Ray of Light shining down through the thorns and touching her. “Do you know?” she asked the Ray without thinking about what she was doing.

“I am sent from the sun.” The Ray answered. The Rose was surprised, “Do you know what I am supposed to do? How do I get to the Man who suffered so much the same as me?” The Ray warmed her all over when it spoke, “He is my Source, I know Him well. He sent me to tell you what Roses do.” The Rose could hardly believe what she was hearing. “What?” She cried, “What do Roses do?”

Finally, her answer to who she was. “A Rose is meant to grow, to bloom, to seed and create more roses. A Rose is meant to always keep her bloom held high, she is to reach for the sun always. Grow, Rose, grow beyond the thorns that surround you, leave them behind. Grow into the sky. Seek the Son. And don’t worry, I will be here to guide you the whole way, He is my Source.”

So the Rose raised her bloom and stretched, of course it would be a hard journey, especially until she got free of the thorns, but she knew it was worth it, she knew that this was what she was meant to do, this was what Roses do. They grow. So the Rose started her journey toward the Son, every day getting closer and closer to Him as she followed and listened to the Ray.

The tale of free

Out on the streets there lived a small boy, he had no one. No father, no mother, no brothers or sisters, no one, except one constant companion whose name was Shame. The boys name was Complacent. All day long he would sit on the street begging for love from any passer by. Shame say there with him, all day long.
“Complacent,” said Shame one day “Why don’t you get up? Why don’t you move? Everyone here know you, they know you’re just lazy and they wont give you anything!”
“Bad things happen when I move.” Murmured Complacent, “Last time I ran into those bully’s Past-Failure and Condemnation, I don’t like them, they always hurt me.”
“Would you rather starve?” Asked Shame. “You call yourself a boy? You’ll never become a man so how can you be a boy? You can’t do anything right, remember?”
Complacent sighed, “The only thing I can do is stay in one place.”
“Even that wont save you! Look, here comes Past-Failure and Condemnation! Run!” Complacent leapt to his feet and tried to run but he tripped and fell in a puddle. Shame ran about him in circles “Oh, you’re too lazy, you’re too slow, you’re out of practice, it’s all your fault, they’ve caught up to you!”
Past-Failure grabbed Complacent by his collar and lifted him from the mud, “That reminds me of a time you threw another into a puddle. Serves you right. How about the time you ran away from home? You hurt your whole family, they would never have you back again! You have always been a mistake.”
Condemnation interrupted, “Yeah, you’ll never be free, you don’t deserve it, this is where you belong and this is what you deserve.” And saying this he started to hit Complacent again and again. Past-Failure joined in and the bully’s did not stop until Complacent cried out in pain, “No! Help me! Shame? Wont you do something?” But Shame looked at the bully’s and laughed, “They’re right, Complacent, this is what you deserve!” And then he joined them. The three beat Complacent and he let them do it, he believed them that this was what he deserved. He agreed with them until he fainted from the pain.
When Complacent came to he did not see the bully’s, only Shame who was shaking him, “Wake up lazy! Nothing is wrong with you, or at least if there is you’d better make sure no one knows, the King is coming by this way!”
Complacent looked at his bruised body, “How can I hide this?” Shame sighed, “You’ll just have to hide yourself, the King would be disgusted with you.”
Complacent climbed into the nearest trash can. “That’s fitting.” Said Shame. Complacent said nothing and Past-Failure appeared as if by magic, “The King’s coming, ooh, Complacent, you remember him don’t you? Make no mistake, he doesn’t remember you! Look at yourself, he would be ashamed to call you his son, so hide, just like you always do when he comes by!” Condemnation kicked the can that Complacent was in, “Make sure you keep quiet, don’t remind the King that he once had a son. He doesn’t want you.”
As the King went by Complacent’s hiding place Shame plugged Complacents ears so that he would not hear the sound and try to get out of the trash can.
Then the King was gone and Complacent wept, Past-Failure stood by him and reminded him of his life and all the mistakes he’d made, while Condemnation and Shame inerjected comments here and there. “Leave me alone, all of you!” Cried Complacent when he had heard enough, “We’re all you’ve got!” They answered.
That night all their friends came to visit. Bitterness, Jealousy, Loneliness, Self-Hate, and Suicide all pounded on Complacents trash can and he could not sleep, for they never slept. Complacent didn’t know how long that went on and suddenly the lid of the trash can was lifted and Suicide sneered down at Complacent. “I know you’re lonely, Complacent, and all these others have betrayed you, come, lets you and I be friends!”
Complacent knew what kind of a person Suicide was, so he hesitated, then he heard a sound. Shame reached in to the trash can quickly plugged Complacents ears. “The King is coming!” He cried in alarm. But it was too late, Complacent had heard what they did not want for him to hear, he had heard his father, the King calling his name, his real name. “Free!”
The boy leapt from the trash can, but the others grabbed him and began to force him back into the trash can. “Father!” he managed to shout before someone hit him in the head and his vision swirled. “I may as well give up, Suicide is not that bad after all.” he thought as the world spun.
But the King had heard his sons cry, and he was there in an instant sword flashing. All the others scattered except Shame who stayed at a distance.
The boy saw his fathers feet and he lifted his gaze toward his face. “Father, I’m sorry, I need you, I’m sorry I ran away, I’m sorry I rejected you. I know now that you’re the only protection I have against all this.” Broken, hurting, barely recognizable he began to cry. “Please Father, don’t leave me, even though I deserve it.”
Shame chose this moment to come closer, keeping his eyes on the sword in the Kings hand, “You bet you deserve it! How do you dare even ask the King such a thing! Come on Complacent, we’re your real family, this is where you belong, this is all you deserve.”
“Free,” Said the King, “You have a choice, you can not have both Shame and me, who will you choose.”
The boy looked at each for a while, after all, Shame had been his constant companion all this time… Shame started to say something during the silence in which the boy was trying to make his decision, but the King silenced him with a look.
Finally the King knelt and looked into his sons eyes, “I love you, my son, no matter what choice you make, I love you. Know this, I’ve been looking for you for a long time, if you choose Shame again I will keep looking for you, I will never stop.” Shame whispered, “Not true Complacent, how could HE love YOU?”
The boy reached out to his father with a trembling hand, weak, frail, broken, bruised, hopeful, he whispered, “I choose you!”
Suddenly Shame let out a horrible wail and was joined by all the others. The King silenced them all forever with one swipe of his great sword. Then he took his sons trembling hand. He had searched and called and now at long last, he had his son back. “Your name is Free.” The King told his son as he lifted him in his arms, “My name is Free.” Said the child and he clung to his father, never to go back again, never to let go again.
Free still had a lot to learn, he was not perfect by any means, but now he had his father to teach him, and he lay his head on his fathers chest listening to his heartbeat. “It’s beating for you, my son, I’ll never let go of you. No longer will you beg for love, for you have all you need in me. No longer are you alone, for I am with you. You have someone now. You are Free.