The Blind Beggar: Part XXVI

It was five years later and the lives of Boulos and Amal changed drastically.  After a lifetime of wavering between atheism and agnosticism, Boulos became a Christian and worked with Charles and Rima.  Through the efforts of the trio, new converts were coming to Christ. 

Even more miraculous, Boulos had eye surgery and regained his vision.  It wasn’t perfect and he needed glasses to see clearly.  He started learning to read and began studying the bible in earnest.  He savored every sight he beheld.  Whenever possible, he sat and watched the sun set on the Mediterranean.  Each view thrilled his soul and warmed his heart. 

For two years, heartache followed Amal.  First, her oldest son became gravely ill.  After a long recovery, her husband was lost in an attack.  Daiwik was also seriously injured in the attack and eventually succumbed to his injuries.  The hearts of Amal and Madhura were broken for many long, dark months.  Since both women shared the losses of their husbands, they regularly turned to the other to endure the shadows that hovered over them. 

Eventually, Madhura returned to India to be with her remaining siblings.  She had no family left near her since her children moved out of the country years before.  It was the only way to have the support she needed.  Her departure left an added hole in Amal’s heart.  Before she left, Madhura encouraged Amal to begin writing again.  She had gained a large following prior to the terrible incidents that inflicted their lives.  Perhaps, she could use her talents to create an income and support herself and her children.  That is exactly what Amal did. 

Amal poured her pain onto the digital canvas.  While she eventually returned to painting the sunsets she saw, she wrote heart wrenching and moving verse of the pain in her heart.  Her words spoke what a multitude of her followers felt but could never express.  Her popularity exploded.  She set up accounts to get paid for blog views.  Amal never expected much but the income provided a comfortable living for her and her family. 

One night as he often did, Boulos told his story to a diverse audience.  He still had nerves each time he stood to talk.  He always told of how he felt like blind Bartimaeus whom Jesus healed in Jericho.  He told of how his heart was broken and he cried out to God to have mercy on him.  God did.  Miracles began occurring in his life after that night he gave his heart to Jesus. 

When Boulos would tell his life story, he always included parts of a young girl who showed compassion to him.  He never failed to mention how reaching out to the needy is required by those of faith.  While he wanted to honor his childhood love and her compassion by mentioning her in his story, he used a different name.  He called her Cristele. 

For some time, Boulos traveled by himself.  On this particular night, Charles and Rima attended the event where Boulos spoke.  The three of them enjoyed a warm reunion later that night and the following day. 

After Charles and Rima put the children down to bed, Rima said, “Remind me to tell Boulos about a writer I follow.”

“Ok, why do you need to tell him about that?”

“He loves sunsets, right?”

“Yes, he does.”

“When I started following her I thought of him but with his blindness, I just didn’t mention it.  Now that he can see and has been learning how to read, I thought it might be a way for him to practice reading.  You know people learn easier when it is something they love.  I think he would enjoy her descriptions.” 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXV

Dark clouds again settled on Boulos.  Per his personality, he internalized it.  Too often in his life, he never had anyone to which he could share his heart anyway.  Alone he was with thoughts of his uselessness.  Loneliness was shown in his whole demeanor.  His face was downcast and his gait slower. 

Everyone can read body language.  We are born with this ability and recognize what the face and body say long before a word is spoken.  We do this without realizing it.  Some people are in tune with this unspoken dialect.  Charles was fluent in this language.

He continued having coffee with Boulos after the work day and, in hindsight, saw the first signs.  However, he was preoccupied with other matters to let the unspoken words reach the ears of his heart.  Once the conversations were properly received, Charles worked to maintain focus and respond in the manner needed. 

Charles and Rima invited Boulos to dinner one night.  Boulos was taken aback by the invitation.  His initial reaction was to decline but realized he had no other plans but to stay in the apartment alone with his gloomy thoughts.  On the planned day, Boulos left work a few minutes early to get home clean up and change his clothes before the two men walked to the apartment. 

Since dinner was nearly ready, the couple sat him in a chair at the table and Rima set the table.  Boulos felt self-conscious and quite conspicuous as activity was about him.  Though the trio had known one another for some time, the formality of a new event retarded the flow of their interactions.  Rima began asking Boulous about his job.  He enjoyed his work and once Boulos began speaking about it, the tightness in the air lifted.

Both Charles and Rima spoke to Boulos as a person and genuinely cared about him.  Once their toddler, Miles, finished eating, he wanted to go to Boulos.  Boulos had held Miles before but this was the first time the boy wanted to go to him.  Once on Boulos’s lap, Miles turned to face him.  Then Boulos lifted Miles a little and the boy place his feet on Boulos’s lap and stood.  The two were face to face. 

Instantly, the boy reached to grasp two handfuls of beard and pulled.  It wasn’t enough to hurt but Rima chided the youngster for pulling on the beard.  Boulos decided to have some fun.  He made a funny face as he said, “Boo!”

Miles broke out in laughter which was contagious to the adults focused on the boy.  He looked at his parents, relishing in the attention.  Boulos again said, “Boo!”  Once more Miles laughed heartily and those around him chortled in reply.  Over and over the sequence repeated.  The joy of the moment affected them all.  Boulos laughed until he cried.  He said, “Oh, my stomach.  I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”

Rima agreed, “Same here.”

As Charles walked Boulos home, Boulos asked, “Mr. Charles, why do you and Mrs. Rima take interest in me?  I am no one.”

“That’s not true.  You are someone.”

“Ok but I am not important.”

“You’re important to me.”

“But why?  Why am I important?”  It was an existential question that came from the pit of his being.  He desperately wanted to know why Charles and Rima treated him as a person when the rest of the world ignored him.  What was different now?  What was different with them?

“Jesus once said it isn’t healthy people who need a doctor but the sick.  He also commanded us to love one another.  Because we’ve experienced God’s love, we want to share it with others.  You probably haven’t experienced much love in your life.”  Boulos was silent.

“Boulos, I believe in a personal God.  I believe He meets us where we are with all of our flaws and is willing to look past them because he wants a relationship with us.  But we have to choose to have a relationship with Him.”

There was something about those sentences that spoke to Boulos.  For the first time, he was receptive when Charles and Rima spoke about Jesus. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXIV

As Jo March, Amal began posting her sunset descriptions.  She was happy when the first person read and liked her post.  She was elated when someone began following her.  Without thinking, Amal followed her back.  She had two followers: Madhura and the new person. 

After each entry, Amal checked the status after a few minutes to see if anyone read it.  She was puzzled by the randomness of how and when people read her work.  One day, there would be many page views and it made Amal very happy.  Then when she posted something she felt was the best yet, it seemed no one cared.  The whole process was thrilling and frustrating.  It was heaven and hell.  It made her crazy but she knew she could never stop.  She would blog the rest of her life. 

After blogging for some time, someone suggested she add a picture of the sunset for each description.  Amal pondered the thought for some time.  It seemed like an easy thing to do and, it appeared, would enamor some of her followers.  Still, Amal considered herself an old soul for her young age.  She felt people were losing the gift of description.  Yes, a picture says things mere words cannot.  But words speak life and emotions.  They can cut through to the soul of a human.  Poets understand this.  A poet says in a stanza what the novelist says in a page. 

Amal decided, unless she felt the occasion required it, she would not post pictures with her nightfall portrayals.  The world needed to learn again how to describe people, places and things.  We have gotten lazy in modern life.  Amal knew she could not change the course of evolution but she would be a rock in the river on this point. 

It was about this time, Rima began reading a new blog.  All the entries were dynamic renderings of various sunsets.  Since there was an option to follow the blog, Rima began doing so.  At first, she didn’t read every day or even with every notification of a new post.  Still, with each chapter, she found herself transported to a fantasy land. 

The world was perfect in the beauty of creation.  Each entry was about a mere point of the earth at a particular time of day but she felt drawn to it.  It was beauty.  It was simplicity.  It was nature itself.  It had a cleansing effect on her soul.  The author had a unique and fantastic way of capturing her imagination.  Rima felt she had observed some of the scenes.  Rima believed she shared some of the same experiences with the writer.  Of course, that was silly.

Little by little, Amal gained an ever growing following.  For the first time she felt she was a person again.  It seemed her life had been reduced to doing for others with no hint of appreciation from the receivers of her benevolence.  She understood keeping house and caring for her family were important and worthwhile things to do but Amal believed there had to be more.  Surely she was more than the cook, maid and nanny in her household.  She wanted to be more than the person her husband used to satisfy his desires. 

Perhaps, finally, Amal was beginning to recognize the buried desires of her heart.  She wanted to be seen and accepted as a person of worth who could contribute to the world.  Through Jo March, she was becoming that person. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXIII

Amal now had a mission for her heart.  Whenever she had time, she hurriedly finished cleaning the kitchen and stepped outdoors.  At first, she simply stood on the balcony and observed.  She took in each sunset, soaking in the essence.  She used all her senses to absorb everything about it. 

She called back to descriptions she told Ali as he ate meals she brought.  He seemed to internalize her words.  In the moments on the balcony observing the setting sun, she felt closer to the love of her youth.  By now, she knew she couldn’t fantasize about being with Ali.  It couldn’t work.  She was married and had to move on but wanted to honor him in some small way.  Sunset was her remembrance.  It was her honor of Ali.  Sunsets were special to him and they became extraordinary to Amal as a result. 

After observing for a month or so, Amal felt the need to begin writing down her observances.  Like when she first began describing the nightfall skies to Ali, words were hard to find.  Over time, it became easier.  It was the same now.  She sometimes felt she grasped empty air as she reached for terms to describe God’s canvas.  She would simply do the best she could and trust He understood her deficiencies. 

In the beginning, she inscribed her perceptions in a simple notebook.  After a month of sunsets, Amal read over her observances.  For each one, she fought to again visualize the sight, to experience the image.  All in all, she was pleased with her ability to articulate the wonders of each sunset. 

A few weeks later while her husband was out of town on business, Amal and Madhura were discussing the progress of their herb gardens and other plants that were recently planted in the hours before sundown.  Amal paused as they stepped onto the balcony, looking at the sky.  Madhura took a moment to steal a glance toward the sea.  She remarked, “Oh, the sky is striking!”

Amal observed for a moment and responded, “Yes, the sea is like the blue-gray eyes of a great beast.  It is poised to rain torrents upon us tonight.”

Madhura looked at the young woman and remarked, “Wow!  That is poetic.  Do you write poetry?”

Embarrassed, Amal replied, “No, I have been closely observing sunsets lately.”

“Ok, but even people who watch sunsets aren’t so lyrical.  You should start writing poetry.  I think you would be good.”

“Oh no, no one would want to read it.”

“I would and I know other people who would like it too.  I’m in an online community to do book reviews and several of the people in our book club also write.  You could start putting what you write out there and see what people think.” 

“My husband would never allow it.”

“Who said he needs to know.  Everyone in our group uses fake names.  It keeps your identity safe.  He will never know. 

“What?  You?”

Madhura nodded her head.  “Daiwik was against the idea of me using anything other than Facebook to stay in touch with our children.  After a while, he met someone else whose wife regularly wrote stories under the name “Darla B.  She used the bare minimum of a personal description and she was going.  Then he warmed up to the idea.”  Madhura added with a laugh, “I was already in my book group by that time.”

The wheels were turning in Amal’s mind.  She felt she could do this.  It was nice to write her descriptions of the sunsets she saw.  Also, she believed what she wrote was good.  Only other people could validate that thought.  Did she dare try it?  What name would she use?

Jo March

The Blind Beggar: Part XXII

Across town, Amal wrestled with her emotions as her mind was pulled back to Ali’s touch when they were face to face for the first time in many years.  The trace of his fingers was still palpable.  She wanted to see him again but didn’t know how it could ever happen.  Since marrying before her sixteenth birthday, she suppressed her childhood dreams.  Now as an adult, she realized how few dreams she had.  She could reduce them all to one request.  She wanted to be happy. 

As a child, she was happy playing with her family, cousins and other friends.  She cherished memories of games, chasing one another and the simplicity of her life.  Her family wasn’t rich but they also weren’t poor.  Her father worked constantly to provide for his family.  He was a stern man.  He grew up in difficult circumstances and believed work, hard work, was the only way out of poverty.  He spent his life proving that belief.

Around time Amal began to understand her father’s regular absences were due to work that a young boy appeared while she and her cousins were playing.  Using her adult mind, she saw through her child’s eyes her first impressions of the boy.  She saw heartache but a strong hope for acceptance.  For about an hour, he sat on a low wall watching the chaotic actions of children at play.  How he must have wanted to be included.  How he must have wished someone would notice him sitting there.  Alone. 

She saw him.  She knew her cousins and family saw him but they continued playing.  After about thirty minutes, but children have little concept of time, there was a lull in the action.  Amal took that opportunity to walk up to the boy.  His eyes observed her movement toward him.  His eyes were hopeful and fearful at the same time.  He detected openness in her body language and not aggression.  Amal laughed at the moment now.  Children don’t care about protocol.  They go right to the point.  She walked up to him and asked, “You wanna play?”

The boy smiled, nodded and hopped down from the wall.  Amal grabbed his left hand and pulled him to the group.  She proudly called out to her family, “This is my new friend.”  Amal had forgotten it was more than a week before Ali felt comfortable arriving at the play area and joining in without being asked.  What had happened that he was so afraid to join in play with other children?  What had happened to Ali since then?

Like when they were children, Amal wanted to reach out to Boulos, her Ali, and protect him.  Was it a maternal instinct?  Though she felt free do that as a child, she knew to hide it from her parents.  She instinctively understood they would not approve.  She was certain her husband would never understand or accept.  Like her father, he worked hard to provide for his family and he sometimes had a temper.  

Per her nature, Amal lived her life trying to appease.  She always worked to alleviate potential problems before they happened.  Now she plainly saw two parts of her life colliding.  How could she stop this from happening?  She consigned herself to the belief she could never feel Ali’s touch but wanted to protect him as she once did.  If she tried, what would be the result of such a collision of worlds? 

Still, Amal wanted to be happy.  She could choose to keep her life the way it was.  She wasn’t overly happy but Amal loved her children.  They were the joy of her life.  She had grown comfortable in her circumstances and could be content if not happy.  However, if she chose to have contact with Ali, she could lose her only joy in life.   Amal, knew her path after seeing it all in plain terms. 

Again, she was resigned to do what was right.  Knowing it was right didn’t make acceptance any easier.  Part angry, part brokenhearted, Amal cried.  Again, she had no joy.  Again, she pushed down hopes and dreams.  It wasn’t fair but following her hopes and dreams, and accepting the consequences, wasn’t right.  Again, she would accept her lot in life and move forward. 

The Blind Beggar: Part XXI

When isolated, there is no limit to where the mind can go.  Many dark places can be visited and known well.  He knew what it was to be ignored and feel he didn’t matter.  Boulos spent much of his life alone where the only conversation he had was with himself.  Having the recent positive attention was sweet nectar but so foreign.

Boulos pondered his present state.  He was a blind man befriended by several strangers and they all collaborated to make his life better.  He appreciated the home and job he had.  It was good to have purpose in his life.  For once, he finally had the smallest sliver of hope that his life had some meaning. 

Nevertheless, it mattered little to him.  Over and over in his mind he had one question.  Why?  Why God would allow Amal to bump into my life if she cannot be part of my life?  Is this not the cruelest of jokes a deity can play on a human?  God dangles love in front of the mortal and keeps it just out of reach.  Like an itch that cannot be scratched, Boulos felt it sheer madness.  It was utter cruelty.  Daiwik once told him the gods smiled on him.  They smiled because they were laughing.  They had laughed at him the whole of his life.

Born with a soft heart, Boulos felt things more deeply than most.  Each setback in life hurt him deeply.  How he wished for human kindness when he became an orphan.  Amal was that touch his wounded heart craved.  As the ever darkening clouds of blindness settled on him, Amal remained the light of his life.  How he cried the evening Amal told him of the day she would marry.  The very words shattered his heart but in his love for her, he could not bear to put any burden upon her.  Therefore, he calmly spoke words of sense and assurance.  It was best for her to marry another.  He lied. 

He spoke truth in that it was good for Amal to have a man who would and could provide a life for her.  Boulos knew we could never do that.  His lie was in appearing to be ok with the thought.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.  How Boulos wanted to shower Amal with love.  How he wished he could hold her, touch her, kiss her.  With every fiber of his being he wished the universe had given him a different life. 

The questions he had then returned anew.  Why was he given this life?  Why must he be the one to suffer such anguish?  Sitting on the bed facing the window, he felt the breeze upon his skin.  He noted the cool streaks that ran from his eyes to his lips.  He tasted his tears.  He believed the salty taste to be a reminder he would forever be preserved in a life of brokenness.  Even when things got better, they remained the same.   

The Blind Beggar: Part XX

Later that night, Charles and Rima discussed the matter of Boulos’s request to get Amal’s contact information.  In the beginning, Charles expressed his desire to find a way to grant the wish of a man who had lived a difficult life.  In his heart, he believed there must be a way.  The couple had a long discussion about the issue.  Though he didn’t want to admit it, Charles knew the right thing to do.  He simply wanted to do something nice for Boulos.  Reality set in when Rima said, “We cannot be a part of this.  You must tell Boulos we will not help him.”

“That sounds rather harsh, don’t you think?”

“You must close the door to this.  If he thinks there is hope he may continue trying to reach Amal.  That must not happen.”

Charles was feeling anger rise in him as a defense mechanism but upon hearing his wife mention Boulos may continue trying to reach Amal, he understood her position.  The heat of his anger subsided and he was resigned to accept her wisdom.  He briefly considered the situation and said, “Then I’ll have to think of how to break the news to him.”

“Yes.”

“Good thing I brought you along.”

“Yes, you’d be lost.  Also, if you left me back in the states, my father would hunt you down.”  They both smiled. 

The next day after Boulos arrived at the apartment, Charles knocked on the door connecting his apartment to the office.  Boulos began to invite Charles into the apartment when Charles said, “Actually, would you sit with me here on our couch?  I have coffee for us to share.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Boulos believed Charles reached a decision and based on the formality of the invitation, was certain of the outcome.  After they each had the first sip of coffee, Charles began, “My wife and I had a long discussion about your request.”  He paused, not wanting to hurt his new friend’s feelings.

“Yes.”

“I hope you will understand that we cannot help you get information for you to contact Amal.  I’m very sorry.  I really wanted to help you but we can’t.”

The reality of the news hit Boulos harder than expected.  He felt his heart drop.  Maybe it broke, he was not sure.  Charles looked at his friend.  He could see the disappointment in his face.  He wanted to offer hope.  As a Christian, he believed all things were possible with God.  He considered saying, ‘I’ll pray for you’ but the words seemed so hollow. 

Finally, he said, “Boulos, I am so sorry.  I know this isn’t the news you wanted.  I feel like crap having to say it.  I wish I could say something that would make you feel better but I can’t give you false hope.  I believe in a Savior who is the hope for this fallen world.  So I hope you place your trust in God.  Meanwhile, I will be your friend if you will accept me as your friend.”

“It was not right for me to ask such a thing.  I am sorry for doing so.  It would not be right for Amal to speak with me.  I don’t believe she would if she had the chance.  A single man should not communicate with a married woman.”  The young man sighed.  His hope was gone.  Now what would he do?