Dearest Father

Dearest Father
By Elizabeth Ann Mucci

I found myself standing perfectly still, as if frozen by regret. A warm tear was born to fall rapidly to the earth, releasing me from my unrelenting fear to enter this place of sadness and doubt.
My hand trembled as I reached forward to grab the red doors that's paint was far worn and stripped from the mighty wood that we had both used to build this building.
My Heart began to swell with many emotions as I entered. Cobwebs and dust had accumulated from the many years of neglected care, yet I still found a strange pleasure in the musky smell from the old hay. Must be the young farm boy in me at heart.
Then I saw it. A table in the back corner, baring the weight of many boxes that were packed neatly, left to be forgotten; baring the weight of a boy who died in pursuit of lifting the weight off many who were suffering.
As I walked forward towards the boxes my heart began to beat vigorously within my body. The air became thick and I found myself longing to breathe freely without so much pain, without hate and bitterness.
I gently brushed the dust off the top of the first box, to find his writing in black marker,
"My country I will serve!"
Opening the box I was to find the emblem of our beloved country, neatly folded with precision and care. How could I feel so much hate for something that represents my freedom? All I could think about is how it represented the loss of a piece of me. No legacy to be passed on, no one to carry on the family name. It had all been taken in the name of this beloved country.
Why was I here. I had been avoiding this retched hell of memories for four years. Why now was I compelled to reenter into this place of misery?
I sifted through his things remembering them exactly as I did when I packed them. Lifting a book from the box a small letter slipped from within its pages ready for its words to be heard by him who was intended.

My dearest father,
I wanted to thank you for teaching me how to love, and how to care for others, thus influencing my decision to give back the love you have shown me, to those who are crying out for it. You always taught me to be grateful for the freedoms and privileges I have in my life. Father, I am so incredibly grateful for those freedoms. I am also grateful for the Gospel you made sure I was able to have in my life so that I could better appreciate my agency and the freedoms that I was given in a more spiritual sense. How could I ever give back a sacrifice equivalent to a life that was given so that we may be free and happy and return to our heavenly father again? I know you are unhappy with my decision to join, but Remember my beloved father, I am willing to make this sacrifice knowing that if I succeed, many lives will be saved and they will know true happiness. I couldn't ask for more than to be like my savior, my brother Jesus Christ. I will return to you again. That is the whole plan right?
Be strong for me while I am away. I will see you in no time.
With love,

I didn't bother putting the things I had removed from the box back. I merely held tight to the letter and made my way back out into the light of day. Such peace had overcome my body and I knew that I was free from the demons that had held so tight to my soul for four years. After all the years I had been teaching the lessons, this time I was to be taught, to be called to humility. For just as god sent his only begotten son to save the souls of many, so had I. Yet God still loved all, even though he knew his son suffered. Now I could let go, now I could move on, for He was waiting for me to join him, and I was finally ready to except that wonderful truth.


Naomi Hanks said...

Did you write this Liz? It is very profound. I am impressed.

Naomi Hanks said...

Is this your guy's blog any more or should I just keep up with the other one?

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