The Blind Beggar: Part XXXIV

Tears welled up in Boulos’s eyes.  “Oh my God, thank you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  Such euphoria filled his soul.  He continued, “Lord, I don’t know why you have brought my Amal back to me but I am so happy.  You are an amazing God.  Please let me know Your will so I can best be Amal’s friend.  I don’t want to do anything to destroy her marriage.“

He paused for a moment.  He would say the words that were hard to say.  He would submit to God’s will.  “If it is Your will that this is our last contact, I will again let her go.  God, I love her but she is not mine.  She is yours.  I will not covet.  I will not try to force something that cannot be.  Your will be done.”

He picked up his iPad and typed, “My Amal, this is Boulos.  I want you to know I did not seek you out.  I will do nothing to try to steal you from your husband, children and life.  It is an amazing thing that I found your blog.  Can you believe the miracle, I can see again?  Ms. Rima told me about your wonderful sunset descriptions and I started reading them.  You know the rest.” 

Boulos sent this.  Then he added, “After reading your sunsets I was so sure it was you and I had to ask.  I hope you are not mad at me.  As I said, I will not be a problem and I will never contact you again if that is what you want.  I am sorry if I have upset you.” 

With this reply sent, Boulos sat in his chair flooded with emotions.  It was a mixture of joy and dread.  He was elated to find his love but now feared her rejection.  Therefore, he steeled his heart for Amal’s rejection.  Then a paralyzing thought hit him.  What if she never replied?  What if Amal blocked him?  Even if they never spoke again, he had to read her words and know she was the one who painted such symphonic sonnets every day.  Boulos simply had to be a part of that.  In his emotional state, he cried anew.  This fear gripped him.  He fell to his bed in agony.  God couldn’t be so cruel could He?  Then Boulos realized he was worrying about things he couldn’t control.  He would no longer think such thoughts.  He would simply wait.  If he waited until he died, he would wait and never waiver in his love.

Then he pictured the story of the Prodigal Son.  He imagined himself as the father waiting for his son to return home.  He would wait until Amal returned to him.  And even if she never did return, he would learn how to love her more. 

Amal had several more comments to read through and the hour was getting late.  Though her eyes were heavy, she hoped to learn who it was that knew Boulos.  Could it be one of her siblings playing a joke on her?  Amal couldn’t imagine anyone else who would know him. There were a few other playmates when she was young but they never knew she described sunsets to Ali.  Amal could imagine her youngest brother laughing at her after revealing himself as the instigator of this ruse and felt the urge to choke him.  Little brothers can be such a pain even when they are grown up. 

She cleared her queue and refreshed the inbox.  There were two more messages.  Amal clicked on the oldest one.  Shock and disbelief jolted her.  Amal wanted to believe what she read but it was too good to be true.  Her Ali can see again?  It can’t be true.  It was impossible.  Who could be so cruel?  How could anyone say such things?  To what purpose was such spitefulness?  Who had she wronged? 

Venom laced daggers were only the beginning of the tortures Amal planned for the message sender.  To calm herself, she moved on to the next message.  Hearing her brother’s voice, she read, “After reading your sunsets I was so sure it was you and I had to ask.  I hope you are not mad at me.”  She said aloud, “Oh I am pissed at you you little rat!”

Her brother’s voice faded as she read, “I hope you are not mad at me.  As I said, I will not be a problem and I will never contact you again if that is what you want.  I am sorry if I have upset you.” 

Her heart softened.  This couldn’t be her brother.  Was this really her Ali?  Yes, he did upset her.  She was terribly upset but what if it were true?  What if this is her Ali?  It had to be him but she couldn’t trust just yet.  She had to test this person. 

She replied, “If you are Boulos, what did I call you and what did you say to me when we last met?”

The Blind Beggar: Part XXXIII

That Ali could have asked the question never entered Amal’s mind.  Of course, she was curious to know who it was.  Amal replied, “Yes, it is.  How did you know?”

Reading the reply Boulos jumped from his chair and hurriedly walked around the room.  He said aloud, “Oh my God, oh my God.  Hold on a second, Boulos.  You don’t know if she is your Amal.  For all you know, she isn’t really a female.  She just said that to better protect her or his identity.”  He shook his head to clear confusing thoughts rushing in.

Returning to his chair, Boulos held his hands above the iPad trying to decide what to write next.  He had knocked on a door in his life and it opened.  It was a big door that opened.  His senses were heightened.  He closed his eyes for a moment to take in his surroundings.  He heard traffic outside the window.  There were footfalls going down the hallway outside his door.  Then he realized the smile on his face and each breath he took.  It was his Amal.  It had to be her. 

It was time to knock on another door.  What should he say?  He wasn’t yet comfortable giving away his identity.  He had to ask another question to confirm her identity while saving his.  What could it be?

His fingers wiggled above the iPad.  He shook them back and forth while considering so many options.  Then it hit him.  It was a question that was to the point but appeared to come from an outsider.  He typed, “I think I know you.  Did you know a boy who was going blind before you were married?”

He was sure it was the perfect question.  If it wasn’t his Amal, he could simply apologize and life would go on.  If it was his Amal, he could tell her who he was.  But should he do so?  Amal was married.  He thought back to the brief moments when they saw one another.  Was there anything about her demeanor that said she didn’t want to be with him?

No, he mustn’t think that way.  She was married.  He could not be a good Christian and interfere with any marriage.  He couldn’t be a decent person, regardless of beliefs, and interfere.  He prayed, “God, you have opened a door and I thank you.  Please help me to know the way.  You know I don’t want to cause trouble but you also know my heart.  Amal has meant the world to me my whole life.  Is there a way Amal and I can be friends?”

Then he knew the path he would take if Jo March was his Amal.  He added to his question, “If so, what was his name?”  Then he hit send. 

Boulos hoped for a quick reply.  It would be complete agony to have to wait until morning or even later for a response.  His mind repeated, “Please, God, please.”

Then a reply appeared.  Without hesitation Boulos clicked on it.  “Yes, I remember such a boy before I got married.  His name was Boulos.  Do you know him?”

The Blind Beggar: Part XXXII

Working at the kitchen sink, Amal prepared dinner for her family.  She glanced out the window toward the Mediterranean.  The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the rays forcefully shone all around them.  It was a striking scene which prompted Amal to hurry onto the balcony to take a picture before the moment was gone.  There was no time to write about the paradise before her.  Instead, she stood and let it soak into her pores.  She would pen a description in a few hours. 

She was pleased there were no remarks about marriage during dinner.  Everything seemed back to normal.  When it was time to begin her evening blog post, Amal brought her phone with her and sat at the computer.  She turned it on and opened the app for photographs.  As usual when she snapped a picture of the sky, it was a poor resemblance of what she saw.  It was merely a dull reflection.  Hence, she was happy she took a moment to absorb the moment. 

Fearsome power bold and bright
Fluffly cloud obscures the light
Burning tendrils stretch high and low
Reaching sky and earth below

Waters calm, a deep cold blue
Reflecting sun, a brilliant hue
Yellow extends to globe beneath
Halo above, a bridal wreath

Sun beyond which gives us life
Pierces all with sharpened knife
Cumulous cloud right on that spot
Covering sun a darkened blot

Surrounding clouds bow to the one
Bold enough to dull the sun
Azure, yellow and crimson too
All above the ocean so blue

Boulos felt his heart burn him as he read the words penned by Jo March.  She didn’t normally write her sunset descriptions in such a poetic form.  They were always very descriptive and often lyrical but this post spoke to him.  To Boulos, it was majestic.  It was a mortal giving praise to God. 

Each line was read aloud. Then Boulos closed his eyes and repeated the phrase.  With the eyes of his blindness, he formed pictures in his mind.  The scene was striking.  He saw a cloud blocking the sun.  Off to each side were other clouds, the rays of the sun striking below them to give the appearance they were bent over in humbleness.  His mind saw a buttery hue around the top of the cloud with white and gray streaks to the blue sea.

He marveled at Jo March’s prowess.  She was a wonderful and descriptive writer.  After reflecting on the heavenly scene, he heard Amal’s voice speaking each verse.  This stirred and pained him.  He sent Jo March a comment thanking her for a wonderful and poetic description of the sky.  She later replied with a simple thank you.

“Where did you learn to describe the sky so accurately, so heavenly?”
          “Just practice, I guess.  I’ve looked at the sky and described them since I was a girl.”

His heart began to pound.  He was certain it was Amal.  Jo March and Amal were the same in that they described sunsets since they were young but Boulos’s heart told him the identity of the write.  It was Amal.  He considered his next step.  Jesus said to knock and the door would be opened.  He placed his next act in God’s hand.  He would simply knock.  If the door opened, he would step through.  It if didn’t, he would move on. 

He typed, “Is your name Amal?”

The Blind Beggar: Part XXXI

Amal and her children sat at the table eating cheese, labneh, and olives.  While sipping tea and munching on the meal, Amal and her daughter, Adeline, did all of the talking.  Her son was unusually quiet.  Amal noticed this and wanted to address it but Adeline was particularly chatty.  She was excited about school a school play where she played the part of a pony.  Adeline loved ponies.  She was very animated as she spoke about it.  Amal couldn’t help but smile and get caught up in her daughter’s pleasure.  

Once Adeline finished talking about the play she began to wind down.  Then Amal transitioned the focus to her son.  “Said, how was your day?”
He stared at his plate and remained quiet.  Amal sensed it was serious.  “Said, honey, what’s wrong?”

Still looking down at his plate he stalled, “Oh, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.  You can tell me.”

He looked up at his mother and opened his mouth and then closed it. Amal could see the conflict reflected in his face.  Just as she started to rise from her chair to go to him he blurted out,

“Mom, are you going to get married again?”

It was as if everyone in the house was suddenly taciturn.  The only sound was the clock on the wall and distant noises outside the apartment.  Adeline looked at her brother.  The normally talkative child was speechless.  Amal, was taken aback.  She looked down at the table and to her son.  With a nervous laugh she asked, “Wha, why do you ask, honey?”

“Someone at school was saying it isn’t right for you not to be married but I told him you didn’t want to get married again.  He said every proper woman knows she supposed to be married.  Otherwise, it isn’t right.”

Adeline softly asked, “Do you want to get married again, mama?”

Amal looked from child to child.  She hadn’t considered that thought.  After her husband died, Amal put all of her focus on her children.  Once the insurance money began running low, she started again writing her blog in order to have a steady income.  Being with another man, let alone marriage, had never entered her mind. 
Finally, Amal responded, “Well, I haven’t thought about it.  I don’t know.  I don’t think so.”

Adeline said, “Mama, I want you to be happy but I also don’t want someone to take you away from us.”
“What?  Honey no one will ever take you away from me.  You are both my children.  Even if I did get married, and I don’t plan to ever do that, you are still my children.  Nothing changes that.  Do you understand that?”

Both children nodded their understanding.  Said added, “I just want you to be happy, mama.”
Amal pushed back from the table and held out her arms.  Then she beaconed with her fingers.  Adeline jumped from her chair and onto one of her mother’s legs.  Rolling his eyes, Said slowly rose from his seat and sat on the other.  Then the three hugged one another. 

In the quiet and security of her bedroom, the question began to haunt Amal.  Did she want to marry again?  She wasn’t pleased to be married when it happened.  She had to marry someone she barely knew.  She had to give up her dreams.  At the time, they were still childish dreams but she had no choice in the matter. 
Then the thought hit her.  If she were to marry, she wanted to marry Ali. It was the same when she was young.  He was the only one she believed she could ever give herself to.  Ali was a man who would allow her to blossom into the woman she was created to be.  His kindness and gentle spirit always brought joy to her soul. 

The mere thought of her and Ali together carried her to the heavens.  Her heart felt light and carefree.  She pictured herself held in Ali’s arms.  She remembered his touch a few years ago when they briefly saw one another in Daiwik’s house.  Her face tingled as she reflected on his fingers seeing her face.  She laughed at his remark of her getting fat.  Oh Ali, my love.  I miss you.  My Ali, my love. 

Amal opened her eyes.  Since she didn’t know where he was, there was no way for any of that to happen.  She squashed her fanciful thoughts and settled her mind to forget it.  Like when she was young, she would never be with Ali.  If she were to be happy, she would make her own happiness. 

Childhood Memories

I was chatting with a friend recently and mentioned some childhood memories. I decided to share them.  Of course, you will be thrilled to know this about me.

I first realized death would one day be a reality for me when I was 3 or 4 years old.  I can’t say why I thought this but I distinctly remember picturing a skeleton and understanding that would be me one day.  I was very afraid and cried.  I remember one of my parents comforting me but not much else.

I think I was about the same age but may be a little bit younger for this next memory.  I was in the tub one night.  Mom finished her job of scrubbing off 10 layers of skin and was letting me play for a bit.  As long as she heard water splashing she knew I was ok.  If I stopped for a bit, she would call my name, “Duane?”  When I answered, “What?” she would respond, “Just checking.” I must have just learned about God at church but I knew there was someone in the sky that could see me all the time.  I recall thinking about God looking at me in the tub.  I took a wash cloth and covered myself so God couldn’t see me naked.

My brother and sister helped me learn to ride a bicycle.  I originally had training wheels but I wanted to learn how to ride a two wheel bike.  They would give me a big push down the street and I would pedal away. I loved it.  That is, until one time when this parked car got in the way.  I guess I forgot how to steer or brake and crashed right into the back of it. 

A few months to a year later, some friends were playing in front of my house.  My dad used to park his truck on the street in front of the house.  I was riding my bike back and forth as fast as I could.  I was coming back toward the house and was going by my dad’s pickup.  A friend darted out and I hit her.  I catapulted off the bike and hit the ground with a very solid thud.  I hit my head pretty hard and had a nasty scrape on my hand.  I looked at the friend I hit and she was crying.  Then I realized my injuries and started crying also.  She walked home and I went into the house.  Later, I complained about seeing lightning flashing across my vision.  Mom called the doctor about this.  I don’t remember what was said but I never went to the hospital or doctor so I must have been ok.  Then again, those bumps on my head probably explain a lot about me now. 

 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXX

Boulos sat looking at the screen on his iPad.  Why did Amal return to him?  He wasn’t convinced the Jo March writing the blog was Amal.  Still, she returned to him more in the last few years than since the day she was married.  Why now?  What should he do?

The answer was to “contact her you idiot.”  Fine, but what should he say?  He couldn’t just write to someone and ask, “Hey, is your name Amal?  If so, I think I know you.”  In his soul, Boulos knew Jo March was Amal and the thought made his entire body tingle.  Then again, he once was blind and just knew he would never see again.  Yet, he has read a blog written by someone he believes to be his childhood love.  Could this be another miracle? 

Boulos began typing.  After completing a sentence, he paused a brief moment and then backspaced through it.  Why was this so hard?  Just make a comment and go from there.  Yes, that was the approach to take.  Again, he typed.

The next day while Amal waited for coffee to finish, she turned on her computer and went through comments and messages.  She read a nice one from a new reader.  It read, “Dear Jo March, I like what you wrote on your profile page that you want to share your love for sunsets.  I have always loved sunsets.  To me they are god’s most beautiful creation.  I look forward to reading more of your blog.”

Amal replied, “Thank you, sir.  Have you read my sunsets from last month?  They are some of my favorites?”

With nearly 14,000 followers, Amal regularly corresponded with people who read her blog.  She also had requirements to repeatedly do in order to receive compensation for her work.  The blog was a time consuming endeavor.  While Boulos felt elation with his interaction with the Jo March, on this day Amal felt nothing other than the need to cross another item from her list.  

Later that night, she received this reply from the new reader: ”I have looked through your blog but haven’t read any of them yet.  I will read them.”

“Thank you sir. :) I appreciate feedback :)”

Twenty three minutes later a response was sent. “I read some of your sunsets from last month.  They are rich colourful and descriptive.  They make me praise god.  Thank you very much.”

Amal wrote back, “Thank you for reading and for feedback :)  I found myself in describing sunsets.  I also like to add a bit of a poetic touch.  I guess that shows.  .”

Boulos felt Jo March was a very kind person; another similarity with Amal.  There was a warmth about her that encompassed him like a soft, loving embrace.  While reading her words, he heard Amal’s voice.  Boulos closed his eyes and let the emotions flow.  A thrill washed over him and he had to smile.  Oh what joy! 

Boulos felt a need, a desire to send one more reply to Jo March.  Yet a conflict suddenly arose.  Amal was married.  As the thought began, Boulos felt energy deflate him.  He could never interfere in the relationship of another.  Also, now that he gave his life to Jesus, to break up a marriage for selfish gain seemed the ultimate betrayal.  But he wasn’t even sure Jo March was Amal.  A dark bitter anguish hit forcefully. 

Boulos put the iPad on the desk and got up.  Placing his hands on his head, he looked up to the ceiling and audibly exhaled.  As much as he wanted to take the next step and ask Jo March if she was Amal, Boulos couldn’t do it.  If a relationship with her wasn’t right before, why was now any different? 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXIX

Since the death of their father, Amal’s children acted differently.  She saw nothing strange in their actions.  They were in mourning.  Having lost her own father, she understood what it means to lose a parent.  Fathers have special relationships to their children.  They are different than mothers.  Her husband was a strict man with his children but he was also quick to give praise when they deserved it. 

More than two years since the death of her father, Amal’s daughter still had occasions when she cried as she missed her daddy.  After that tragic event, Amal believed she cried because others around her were crying.  Now, a little older, the reality of her father never coming back was seeping in.  Her feelings were her own. 

Her son also missed his father but he tended to act more aggressively.  He mocked his sister when she cried or was moody.  Amal felt fortunate this was the extent of his actions.  While she wasn’t pleased with his behavior toward his sister, he remained respectful to those in authority at school and in the community.  Otherwise, we was quiet and reserved.  He withdrew into himself. 

Amal wanted to reach her son and help him heal.  He always seemed to hold his mother just out of reach.  She could never quite touch his heart.  She missed the days when he was little and would be playing.  On occasions, he would see her while playing, run to her and hop into her lap.  The boy was dirty and sweaty but that he wanted that moment with her in the midst of his playtime warmed her heart.  How she wished he would sit on her lap.  How she wished she could hold and love her young man. 

Amal wrestled with her own demons.  While she could control herself, any sudden loud noises, firecrackers or a car backfiring, caused her heart to race.  For the briefest of moments, she felt panic and feared for the safety of her children.  Images of broken glass, debris and torn bodies flooded in.  Then she would view her surroundings, see other passersby weren’t alarmed, and would continue about her business.  All the while, she fought to suppress the anxiety.  Perhaps that is why sunsets, sunrises, flowers; any form of nature, were soothing. 

While there were occasions Amal felt it a chore to write about the twilight sky, she always savored the opportunity to let it infuse peace into her soul.  It was her moment to commune with the beauty of the creation God made.  There were times she would close her eyes and let the sounds, smells and sensations come to her.  When she did this it seemed nature showered her with blessings.  It didn’t always happen but Amal cherished the moments. 

After two weeks since first learning about the blog written about sunsets, Boulos had time and was in the mood to read about the sunsets.  Boulos had learned to read in the little schooling received when he was young.  In many ways he was still learning.  He had liked to read and found it an escape from the difficulties of life.  The children he played with, even Amal, didn’t know this about him.  When he was alone, he read anything he could find.  He read the words of this blog haltingly.  The writer often used words uncommon to him. 

This night, he started at the top of the blog and worked his way down.  The writer styled each sunset with peace and passion.  Each canvas was painted with desire for eternity.  They seemed to capture a glimpse of God at work.  In that way, Boulos felt the writer in touch with the divine. 

He read: “With soft waves, the Mediterranean laps at the Lebanese shore.  From southeast to the northwest, lines of fuchsia, hues of blue and grayish purple fill the horizon.  Burning, rose colored cumuli etch the sky with warmth while an atmosphere of baby blue peers at the earth below.  Row upon row of salmon cotton balls line the edge of the clouds while softer, wispy cirrus above frame the heavenly vision.  Man interjects himself into the godly canvas with contrails of white and a black and red vessel upon the seas.” 

As he read, the phrase “cotton balls line the edge” seared into his consciousness.  Amal once used cotton balls to describe a sunset to him.  Could this be Amal?  His Amal? 

Mary M: Sunday

When I think of that day, it was a day of contrasts.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was wracked with grief in the morning but full of joy a few hours later.  For many years I was oppressed.  Then He came and relieved me of the plagues that clung to me.  It is said seven evil spirits left me when Jesus healed me.  I don’t know.  I only know He changed me and I would do anything to serve Him. 

 

It was a day of contrasts because we all hoped Jesus was the messiah.  We believed He was.  We were certain of it.  Can a man do such miracles and not be sent from God?  But I saw the torn flesh as he carried His cross.  I watched Him die.  All the hopes I had were gone.  The messiah was dead and all those who once followed Him were in hiding.  If the leader was killed, surely they were next, right?

 

I can’t stress enough how destitute we all felt.  Just a few days earlier, Jesus rode into Jerusalem and everyone praised Him like a conquering king returning to establish his kingdom.  Expectations were never higher.  But then we were simply lost and never expected Him to come back from the dead.  I mean, he brought Lazarus back to life not too long before this but can a dead man bring himself back to life?  How is that possible if not the power of God be in him?

 

Since I couldn’t sleep anyway, when the Sabbath was over, went to the tomb where His body was placed.  That His body wasn’t left for the bird to pick apart or thrown outside the city to the trash is a miracle.  But in the back of my mind I kept picturing two men preparing His body in such a hurry.  I was sure it wasn’t done right and I wanted to give Him the burial He deserved.  When I arrived at the tomb, the stone was rolled away and His body wasn’t there. 

 

I didn’t think I could endure more grief.  Why would someone take His body?  They must have felt the tomb would become a shrine for people to gather and remember this great man.  I kept picturing people desecrating His body.  Mocking His body as they mocked Him while alive.  It crushed me and I cried.  Not knowing what else to do, I ran to where the disciples were hiding and gave them the news.  Peter and John then left to see for themselves and I walked back to the tomb. 

 

It was still dark when I arrived.  Peter and John were gone.  Again, I looked into the tomb and I saw two men there.  One of them asked, ‘Woman, why are you crying?’

 

I said, ‘They have taken my Lord away and I don’t know where they have put Him.’

 

Then I heard something behind me and turned and saw someone walking up behind me.  It was still dark and I couldn’t make out who it was.  Can you believe I thought He was the gardener?  Then He asks, ‘Woman, why are your crying?  Who is it you are looking for?’

 

I replied, ‘Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have put Him, and I will get Him.’

 

Then He simply said, ‘Mary.’

 

Instantly, the sound of His voice triggered recognition and a flood of emotion washed over me.  With the whole of my being I wanted to hold Him forever.  I cried out, ‘Teacher!’

 

Then he said, ‘Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.  Go instead to my brothers and tell them, “‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

 

So I rushed to the disciples and told them, ‘I have seen the Lord!’  I told them all that happened.  I could tell they didn’t believe me but my excitement and actions made them consider my words.  Of course, we women cannot testify in court. Our words hold no weight in important matters.  Why did Jesus have me spread such news?  I cannot say but my life changed.  I saw a man die and later saw Him alive.  Can anything be more miraculous?  Jesus rose from the dead and I saw Him with my own eyes. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXVIII

Later that day when Boulos had some time, he went to the website Rima sent to him.  He looked at the writer’s profile which simply said she was “a mother, daughter and widow who loves to meet people and share my love for sunsets.”  There was no picture of the author.  There were no pictures on the blog at all.  This disappointed Boulos.  Still, he felt her a humble person.  He was about to look at the blog when the phone rang.  The remainder of the evening required his attention on other matters.  Before he knew it, it was time for bed and Boulos wanted to read scripture before sleeping.  Therefore, he did not read the blog that night. 

Amal added three sunset descriptions before Boulos revisited the blog.  At the time, his mind was preoccupied.  While he liked the descriptions, he found himself wanting to see a picture of what she saw.  Then his phone buzzed.  It was a text from Charles.  Rima wanted to know his opinion of the blog.  Boulos replied,

“The writer is very descriptive of the sunsets but I wish she had photographs so I can see what she saw.”

          “Why?”

“Perhaps I because I was blind and wanted to actually see sunsets.”

“That makes sense”
“I guess”
“Rima loves her descriptions.”
“Maybe you should read a little, close your eyes and see the way you used to see them.”

“Yes, I will try that.”

Boulos then read the next twilight description.  After each line he closed his eyes and focused on the words.  His mind highlighted the play of words as they painted the sky of his mind.  The sky of his eyes was pale in comparison.  Slowly, a dazzling arrangement met him.  His pulse quickened.  The words spoke to him.  They was a voice calling to him. 

In his mind’s eye, Boulos heard children playing, sea birds flying above and the voice of Amal whispering to him.  His eyes opened and reality broke the spell.  A profound sadness enveloped him and tears welled up.  Boulos believed it was due to memories of being blind. 

Blindness was a curse but it had moments of blessing.  Blindness made him more in tune with the world around him.  Sometimes when he was alone, his senses saw the whole world around him.  He absorbed elements those with sight never see. 

He spoke aloud to no one, “Oh my Amal I miss you.  I miss you.  I’m sorry our lives were so different.  How I wish I could have held you in my arms.  How I wish I could have protected you from the terrors of life.  How I wish…”  He paused.  “How I wish things were different.  I am nobody.  Your father did what was right.  He loved you and wanted you to have a good future.  But God has a plan for both of us.  It is for our welfare and not for calamity so we can have a future and a hope.”

He sniffed then continued, “Oh my Amal.  In my heart, there is no one else but you.  So I will remain as I am.”  Boulos frowned, took a deep breath and exhaled.  He no longer desired to read about sunsets and closed the browser on his iPad. 

Lost Today: Saturday

Battered, beaten they saw Him
The leader lost
A most horrible death
Demolished hope
Abandoned  faith
Now to face the abyss
 
Battered, beaten they saw Him
The leader lost
A most horrible death
Eternal hope
So many dreams
Fall into the abyss
 
Death, decay where to go
When hope is gone
What is life without hope?
A hallow shell
An empty breath
 
Eternal hope
So many dreams
Fall into the abyss
 
Copyright 2017
Duane Windell Phillips

Know Your Rights When You Fly

Lately, the news has been filled with images of people being removed from an airplane.  I have worked for a major US air carrier since 1989.  I spent most of those years with some sort of direct contact with the customer.  Nine of those years were specifically handling customer correspondence on a corporate and executive level. 

One thing often misunderstood is denied boarding.  Specifically, when a customer denied boarding is entitled to compensation.  First, let me state some of the prerequisites.  You must have a paid ticket.  That is, you cannot travel on a standby ticket.  Standby travel is typically for airline employees, their families and others to whom they can give such travel options.  Also, you must check in for your flight within the established parameters for each airline.  You must be at the gate and on board within established parameters.  (You’d be surprised how many people miss flights because they show up at the gate at the time the plane is scheduled to depart.  You have to be on the plane when it departs which means on board, carry-on luggage stowed and in your seat with your seat belt on.)  If you fail to be at the gate and board the flight on time and miss the flight, you are not entitled to compensation. 

Denied boarding compensation, as prescribed by the Department of Transportation (DOT) is for customers who do not travel on a flight for which they are ticketed due to the flight being oversold by the airline.  The DOT allows air carriers to sell more seats than their planes hold.  However, in making this allowance, they have requirements each airline must follow.  Here are the basics:

1. When it appears the airline has more customers than seats, they must advise customers of the oversold situation and offer for customers to give up their seats in exchange for compensation. 

2. The airline must advise customers if they may be bumped from the flight involuntarily.  If that should happen, what compensation is due. 

3.  The DOT does not have compensation guidelines for people who volunteer. 

4.  Cash compensation must be offered to customers who are denied boarding involuntarily. 

5.  If you are invol’d but the airline can get you to your destination within 1 hour of your original scheduled arrival, no compensation is required by DOT rules. 

6.  If you are invol’d and the airline can get you to your destination between 1 and 2 hours (1-4 hours for international travel) after your original arrival, the airline is required to pay you 200% of the one way fare to your final destination.  There is a $675.00 max.

7.  If you are invol’d and your new travel gets you to your destination more than 2 hours (4 hours for international) later than your original arrival, compensation doubles to 400% for your one way fare with a $1350.00 max.

One final thought regarding denied boarding compensation, if the airline substitutes to a smaller aircraft, denied boarding compensation is not required by DOT rules.

These are the cold and hard facts of the matter.  While they must adhere to DOT rules (and in cases of international travel, the rules of other countries to which they serve) airline need to care about how they treat customers.  They should do what is right for the customer.  Therefore, airlines often will give various forms of compensation or a goodwill gesture for genuine and perceived service failures.

I you ever experience a service failure or are denied boarding a flight, you have every right to not be pleased with the circumstances.  Nevertheless, you should know your rights before you travel.  Here is a link to the DOT information about your rights.  I recommend you read them.   

 

 

 

Let Desire Reign

Across the way I see your beauty

How I long to hold you close
To have
To hold
I picture each kiss
Visions of our passion
A touch of our lips
A thrill of our hearts
Rapture ensnares  
Desire burns
Be with me
Let desire reign
 
Copyright 2017
Duane Windell Phillips