A Reminisce and God’s Glory: Part Two

Several years have passed. We walk into an office. I don’t focus on much around me. I see a face but I can’t describe it: young and yet somehow old. My parents talk for sometime, saying things I can’t or don’t want to understand. I am stuck in my own world. I hear words like “church”, “false doctrine”, and “need to change”. We get up and leave.

We never attend that church but instead go to another. My parents decide they like it. I don’t care.

The office fades out and I find myself in another room. But this room looks out on a large audience who watch with smiles on their faces. Below me swaying back and forth is a small body of water. I’m in a baptistery. I see my family with me. I’m in a robe like garment. As I watch, each family member is being dunked under the water by my dad. It is my turn. My father says a few words and then all sound is drowned out as I go underneath. Coming up from the water everything around me is gone, I’m no longer wet.

I sit in a pew hands in my lap. I look to my side and see my dad sitting next to me. He is listening intently to the words being spoken in the front. Looking down at my hands I ignore the sermon. I wonder who my favorite football teem is playing today. The buffalo bills I remember with a smile. I can’t wait to see who wins. Then suddenly a man hands me a plate from the right hand isle. It has two different contents on it: a small glass with grape juice in it and a white flake of bread. I reach out to grab the bread. Hesitating I wonder if I should take it. My life hadn’t reflected the symbol I was about to partake of. I reluctantly grabbed both contents, however, and held them in my shaking hands. Then every thing was fogged over.

My monotonous life is becoming more monotonous. I find scenes molding into each other more and more. They are becoming less distinct. I remember depression. I remember being sick of my surroundings. One scene pulls itself away from the rest. It becomes distinct and clear in my head. I am riding in a car. A friend of mine sits next to me. It is the older boy who opened that door in the earlier memory. His name is David Moore. In his hand is a walkie talkie. He smiles and speaks into it. A girl’s voice answers on the other end. I don’t know what it says. The words are muffled by forgetfulness. I don’t know why but I begin to sing. My friend’s mom smiles and looks back, “that is very good,” she says. I blush and quickly stop. I look back over at my friend. I had seen him for the past several weeks in a row. And I knew I would probably see him for the next weeks to come. I stopped smiling and wondered when I would pull out of the present monotony. Suddenly I can’t see his face any more he is gone along with the car.

Several months have passed by now. I hold a controller in my hand. The voices of younger kids playing and talking in the distance carry into the dark room. I stare dumbly into a TV screen. On it a man runs through the woods. I am controlling him. In the distance grenades go off. I’m nearly hit. I stop, turn and shoot an unsuspecting soldier in the back. He dies. Suddenly from outside of my own little world a call breaks me out of my stupor. “Your computer time is up.” It is my mom. I stay on for another thirty minutes ignoring the call. Then, out of pure boredom, I turn of the game station and look around the room. All is dark. Then, through a window, I can see some kids playing around out back in a sand box. The backyard reminds me that I won’t be seeing it for to much longer. I am going to move in a week. It seems so unreal that it isn’t unusual. I accept it. Maybe mostly because it is a break from the deadly monotony. Every thing goes black as, for the last time; I see my old world and old friends. It is gone forever.

Suddenly I’m in a blue van. We are driving up a long small road into a parking lot. I remember hearing something about a heartland center. I am more then a little nervous. The building looks large, which can only mean one thing: there are a lot of people. Suddenly everything is gone. It disappears in the fog of forgetfulness. A second later I am walking through a hall. I look around and wish that I wasn’t there. As we reach two glass doors we turn left and enter a large sanctuary. A lot of people are moving around inside. A lot of unfamiliar faces. I look around to see what kind of faces. They all seemed nice and welcoming. We sat down in the middle row four rows from the front. I can’t distinguish faces. There is what looks like a young man standing on the stage. He is speaking. Then what looks like a younger girl, who I find out later to be his sister, is up on stage with him. The young man sings: it sounds very good. The sermon is a blur as I only remember that a foreigner is speaking. Suddenly everything clears. The sermon is over and I am sitting in my seat next to my brother. We are wearing our leather jackets. I look around and see a little boy who is wearing glasses. Then, suddenly the young singer comes over and introduces himself as Bryan Elliff. He is followed by several other younger people. They introduce themselves too. I feel the questions raining in and am flattered enough to answer them happily. As I go to answer another question I turn around and see…nothing…it is all gone. I am no longer in the sanctuary. All around me is fog.