This is the Story of a Boy

on 04 October 2009

Running down Calvert St., the plip-plop of his too big shoes pounded like a heartbeat in the ears of the young man in the shirt and tie. As the beating of his heart matched his feet, the music coming from the iPod began to rhythmically entwine into harmony and the runner chuckled to himself in introspective amusement.

Only a year ago he had been wallowing in the misery of depression having just come out to himself, a friend and his father. He craved answers to unknown questions, solutions to unfinished puzzles and the peace of a calmed sea. Now he was literally running to catch a train that would hurtle him towards the same meeting, which only a year ago, agonized his mind and his soul into a frenzy that nearly cost him his life.

As he boarded the train and the endorphins of his running began to elevate his mind he recollected a similar meeting that took place 6 months prior, a meeting that he attended pleading for mere recognition of the pain and anguish that he was feeling, relief that would come from on high upon knowing that his suffering was not in vain. This meeting left him with resentment for the complete ignorance of his agony and slight resentment for the organization that held these semi-annual meetings. All he had desired was light and knowledge and a mere recognition that what he was dealing with was significant enough to warrant public discussion. His mind was jolted out of this trance by the train pulling into his station.

Whilst walking the last ¼ of a mile to the meetinghouse the young man recognized a profound change within him. He was at relative peace, his questions had been acknowledged as worthy, his puzzles and been started to be solved and the tumultuous storms of the seas had become easier to bear, even if the sea was not as smooth as glass. He realized that he didn’t have to attend this meeting, that no one was watching him, no one was holding him to his attendance and that it would hardly be recognized amongst a crowd of other young men. He realized that he wasn’t going to this meeting for answers, nor for recognition, not because it held some mystic advice. He was entering the hall of this building seeking nothing but thoughts on how to improve his life. How to love more consistently. How to better hear and follow the counsel of the Lord and his spirit. How to turn his heart not only towards, but over to Christ.

As he took his seat and prepared to hear the words from this meeting, he understood that his burden, his miseries had strengthened him. They had given him the power and the hope to start anew, to start a life path with its own unique bumps and jolts. He had added strength and a constant companion that was lacking on his previous journey. He was beginning anew from an entirely different and dare he say evolved point of view. He recognized a profound truth.

His Path was right, his course was true, he was on the road that led to home at last.

Creative Commons License


Ned said...

A beautiful scene, beautifully told, David!

Congratulations on writing this from our nation's capital and on all the courage and faith it took to get there. The only thing I question is the title. Rather than the story of a boy, it strikes me as the story of a man.

Bravone said...

Amen Ned. Thanks for your example of one with pure and sincere desire David.

The Faithful Dissident said...

A stunningly beautiful post, David. It's exactly what I've needed to read with the swirl of thoughts racing through my mind.

If it's not too personal, perhaps you could elaborate a bit on where you are in your life in terms of your personal path and staying in the Church being able to co-exist. I'm really struggling with that now and I love learning from you Mohos because even though I'm not a Moho, I feel there are so many parallels to my own life.

Sean said...

Beautiful, and touching. May that peace follow you for all of your life.

Post a Comment