God's Front Door

Its about a homeless man that dies at God's Front Door

An old brittle man sat cuddled upon the steps outside a church. 

It began to rain just as night began to fall.  

 

People passed by, car’s driving up and down the busy street and did not take notice of him. 

Do they close their eyes to me he thought or do they really not care at all?

 

He sat in the cold rainy night, with nowhere to go and with nothing to eat. 

No family or friends for him to call and rescue him.

 

The old man was sick his cough was deep, rough and cracked. 

Hot and chilled he was, weak from years lacking nourishment and care.

He had walked from his usual begging spot and was headed to the missionary with only the clothes on his back.

 

He had grown tired and the closest place his legs could carry him at that moment were to the steps of a church.

A deep breath he took some comfort he tried to find.

No bed can be made of concrete yet it was as far as he could go.

 

The rain still came down, the night grew colder.

His face was stone and his eyes opened his mind to thought.

He shivered, chilled his old body is becoming.

Layered in clothes he has found through the passing of time.

They now become saturated with the sadness of the rainy night.

 

He begins to cry, “Why am I here?” he thinks to himself.

“WHY AM I HERE?” he screams with all the energy he has.

The rain and tears come together on his face. 

He does not wipe them away.

 

He remembers being a young boy living life with everything he needed.

His parents loved him dearly and gave him the best childhood they could.

He would play ball with his friends and fetch with his beagle.

 

As a teenager he went to school and studied hard earning good marks.

Not the smartest in his class but he never gave up.

He even tried out and made the track team, life was good.

 

One stormy night, while he was sleeping, he heard a noise from inside the house.

He then heard his father tell him to stay in his room as he walked past his door.

He sat for a moment and then decided to go and see what was going on. 

 

He went by his parent’s room and saw his mother was gone.

Where was she he thought?

He heard talking coming from the living room.

It was odd, to hear such a noise from the living room and there is no arguing.

  

He looked into the living room and saw a man standing next to his mother and his father was there with a gun to his side.

What is going on?  Who is this man?

 

The old man lay’s crying on the steps outside a church. 

Sobbing and muttering to himself, looking for purpose and blame. 

“Where has his life gone?” he thought.

“Why God, why have you done this to me?” he begged.

 

As the people and the car’s continue to go by him he notices one of the old late model trucks across the street is broken down.

The person inside is trying to start it and it lets out a back fire.

The old man screams “Dad NOOOOO!”.

 

As he was looking around the corner into the living room he hears his father say “How could you, after all these years, after all that we have been through?” 

His mother can only say “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

His father says “What about our son?  How will he handle this, how will he recover from knowing his mother has betrayed his father?” 

“He doesn’t have to know” she said, “We will tell him I am sick and I had to go away.” 

 

The old man yells from his rainy perch “Damn you mother, damn you for all that you have done.  You have put me here you have placed your son on these steps to die.” 

In his memory he hears his mother say “put the gun down, please, put the gun down.”

 

His father was not going to lie to his son and he had the gun pointed at the boy’s mother. 

The stranger did not put up a fight but he did not run away. 

He was determined to leave the house with his mother.            

 

“Put the gun down, please.” the two lovers said to the broken hearted father. 

The boy sat cuddled up in the hall way, not even looking at was about to happen.

Regardless, he knew his mother was not coming back.

 

Tears rolling down his father’s face and anguish flowing from his voice he could only say “Why, why, WHY?” 

“Shhhh, you’re going to wake him up, he does not need to see this, just please put the gun down.” his mother said.

 

He lowers the gun and falls into the couch crying his heart out.

“Please don’t go he says.”  “Please stay here with us, I forgive you, we can work this out, I promise we can.”

 

The boy’s attention draws to his mother, he peers around the corner and his heart stops.  All is quiet in order to hear her response.

  

The stranger turns to her and says “I’m going to the car, our plane leaves in an hour.”

She says “Ok”.

“Plane?” the father asks, “Where are you going?”

The boy hears this and he can’t even move.

 

The old man looks to the black sky with the rain pouring down on him.

He yells at each rain drop that falls “NO Mother, noooo.”  “Dad said he forgives you.”

 

“Where are you going?” his father asked her again.

“I said I forgive you, we will figure this out, you will stay with us.” He tells her.

“I’m sorry, but no.  What’s done is done and I have to go.”  She says to her husband.

Her son is still looking around the corner, tears rolling down his face like rain.

He is screaming on the inside and he is too scared to even move because he still sees the gun in his dad’s hand.

 

“No dad, no daddy, please don’t” the old man screams.

People walking past him, past a place of God still pay him no attention.

 

The father stands from the couch, tears are gone, and rage is building up inside him.

The sound of the car horn from his wife’s lover call’s for her.

He looks outside and points to the window with his gun and says “Is it going to be him or is it going to be me?”

The horn sounds again.

“I’m sorry” she says.

“I want to hear it from you.  Is it him or me?” he yells pointing the gun to his chest and then to the car.

“Please don’t point the gun like that.” She asks of him.

 

“Put the gun down dad, just put it down.” the old man says from the steps.

“Let her go” the old man screams and catches the attention of one man walking by.

 

“I want to hear you say it. So say it.”  He points the gun to his head this time and says “Is it me” and then points the gun at the window and says “Is it him” then he fires a shot.

 

The old man on the steps screams “don’t shot daddy don’t shot again”.

The passer by sees this happening, he looks to the old truck that is trying to be started and then looks to the homeless man.

He just shakes his head and moves on. 

 

The boy’s mother lets out a scream and backs to the door.

Her lover backs out of the drive and speeds off abandoning her to her fate.

She saw the lights from the car move from the drive and then disappears.

 

His father is so overcome with rage he does not know her lover is gone.

She has still not given him an answer and he is demanding it.

“Him or me, him or”

The old truck from across the street back fired with one turn of the key then with one more crank it finally started and with one last back fire the truck was on its way.

 

The boy’s eyes throw open as wide as they can.

The old man’s heart screams in pain.

They both yell from their soul “Why oh lord, why have you done this to me?”

 

The boy gets up from the hall way and makes his way to the living room.

Through the window he can see a thin line of smoke in the light that is coming in from the street.

The smell of gun powder fills the room.

There is the sound of a slow drip coming from the darkened corner of the living room.

He cannot see and is too frightened to turn on a light.

 

“Mom Dad?” he says softly and with no answer he says it again.

“Mom can you hear me?  Dad are you there?” he says with fright in his voice.

 

The old man relives this over and over and over in his mind.

Every day and every night he battles with this demonic torment this unholy dream.

 

Thunder sounds in the distance as he still lays there in the rain.

More frightened he is his heart is pounding in his chest.

His blood pressure rises to fast for him to react.

 

He reaches for his right coat pocket and a bottle falls out on to the steps.

Wrapped in a sandwich bag he goes to grab his life saving pills.

The rain is coming down to hard and the rush of the water flowing over the steps takes his bottle down to the side walk.

He tries to set up and hurry but the stream of sorrowing rain takes his pills down into the sewers.

 

He lies there, no crying no blaming. 

His chest pounds like a drum his blood pressure is climbing quickly.

He knows his fate.

Lightning flashes and he closes his eyes.

  

The young boy stands in the dark not knowing where his parents are.

Still afraid to turn on the lights, he wonders if they have left him.

He moves to the window and sees the car is still in the drive.

Determined to find them he finally makes the decision to turn on the lights but is scared to see what is hidden in the night.

 

He moves to the end table where the lamp sits.

The lamp his mother would sit by each night and read her Bible.

He reaches up and under the lamp shade to find the knob to illuminate the room.

He finds the knob and his hand is shaking.

He closes his eyes and turns the knob, “click”.

When the young boy opens his eyes he finds his parents.

 

His mother lays on the couch, with her left arm hanging over the side and one leg positioned with her foot to the floor.

Her white blouse was heavily stained with the dark red of her blood from the gun shot she received to her chest.

Blood had run its way the length of her arm and was dripping from her finger tips onto the carpet.

 

He stood there looking over her not knowing what to say and there was nothing he could do.

He could see the life from her body was already gone.

 

The old man looked up to the heavens and said “I’m sorry momma, I’m sorry for what has happened.  I should have stopped this.  I should have done something.”

 

The young boy didn’t even cry.

His thoughts turned to his father and he began looking around the room.

Tears began to flood his vision and his heart was beating fast.

He was praying for his mother and beginning to hate his father for what he had done.

Finally he saw his father’s legs protruding from beside the recliner.

He slowly walked over to where his fathered laid.

 

The old man rolled over to his left side and was desperately trying to reach for something inside his rained soaked coat.

 

The boy reached his father and got down on both his knees to see if he too was gone.

The gun was still grasped in his father’s hand, his eyes were closed and no expression on his face.

No blood did he find or could he see but he knew the life from his father was gone as well.

 

The young boy stood up from beside his father and walked over to his mother’s end table. 

He reached up turned the light off and went to his room.

 

The following morning he awoke and was hoping all of this was a dream.

Stretching out his sleep and rubbing his eyes he shuffled his way down the hall.

He walked past his parent’s room, stopped and saw the bed was not made.

The bed was usually made, his mother always got up with his father while he got ready for work.

He turned and headed to the kitchen where his mother would be waiting for him with his bowl of cereal and a kiss good morning.

When he got to the kitchen he sat down in his usual chair but there was no bowl of cereal, no kiss good morning and his mother was not there.

 

His eyes began to fill with tears.

The reality of what happened the night before has now set in.

He looks over into the living room and sees his mother and father still lying in the positions they had found the night before.

He looks out the window and the tears begin to fall.

The old man lies dying on the concrete steps with his hand in his coat.

The busy street still bustling with people and traffic still no one turning an eye to the old man on the church steps.

 

The rain is beginning to slow down; the storm has passed through like a flock of birds.

Night still drapes the city and the doors from the church open. 

Light shines out into the night from the opened door, signing can be heard.

 

The old man uses his last bit of energy to turn and find the song that flows through the air. 

“How Great Thou Art” rings the old man’s ears with love and comfort.

 

Soon he fells warm hands touch his face.

With no surprise but expectation he looks up and see’s her, his Angel his mother was there on those concrete steps with him.

“Oh mother how I have missed you” he says.

“I’ve missed you to my son” he hears.

“I’m sorry mother, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you” he wants her to know.

He hears a voice say “Do not worry my son, you are safe, you are here at God’s front door and he has forgiven you”.

 

The old man reaches into his coat and pulls something from his pocket.

“Here mother I have kept this for you.  I have always dreamed about giving this back to you”. He said.

“Thank you my son.” He hears

“Forgive me mother, please forgive me” are the last words the old man says.

 

The preacher from the church atop the steps is sitting there with the old man in his arms.

He has tears in his eyes from what he had discovered what he just laid witness too.

“No better place for you to be at this moment my friend then right here.” The preacher said.

 

Knowing he would not get a response he laid the old man down as gentle as he could.

He then looked at what he was given.

It was a paper bag, a soaked paper bag.

He opened the bag and pulled out what was inside.

It was a Bible.

 

The preacher opened the Bible and written on the inside cover was “Forgive me Father for I have sinned” and underneath what was written read “I forgive you mother.” Love your son.

 

The rain finally stopped on the steps of the church and the preacher said a prayer.

“I do not know my Father what this man has gone through in his life but I do hope he has been forgiven and that he now walks in heaven with his mother and all is right with him.  Please Father, your will is the way and the light as always and forever, but this man died at your front door and is now at peace.”  Amen…