Solutions: The Dilemma for Men, James Gerard [most motivational books .txt] 📗

no choice but to abide by the given directions. Touched by Tenderness

 Seeking refuge at the hillside fortress, Louis huffed and puffed as he scurried up the ravine.  Hidden safely behind a stone wall acting as a barrier from any unknown dangers, he plopped down in the dirt to catch his breath.

 

A distinctive odor wafted about the swirling air.  It smelled of salt, yet he could not understand how that could be.  All he knew was the cloudless night let the warmth of the day escape and allowed a frosty chill to make its ways through the tattered clothing.

 

Louis started to shiver then quickly froze and listened.  From the other side of the wall he heard clanking from what the officer had told him about.  It was the signal for him to call out the name of his rescuer.

 

“Emily?”

 

There was a temporary pause.  The silence signaled her attention may have been distracted by the call delivered in a soft whisper.  The clanking returned.

 

“Emily?”

 

“Who are you?” a whisper responded.

 

“My name is Louis.”

 

“No, who are you?” she repeated somewhat gruffly.

 

“I said my name is Louis.”

 

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she replied.  “Just wait and be quiet.”

 

Louis had no clue as to what had just happened.  He felt compelled to stand and look over the wall to see what was going on, but figured to stay put since he was the one apparently need of help.

 

He focused the attention on the sounds coming from behind the wall.  An upbeat melody of a song he had never heard chimed away.  The sounds of chatter and laughter assured that whoever was present was having a good time.

 

As he waited, Louis stared out into the distant void where he spotted a strange set of lights that appeared to be moving through a sea of black.  The lights were in no familiar configuration.  They were somewhat like the lights illuminating the processing plants back at the Village, but they appeared to be lit at random throughout, and if he didn’t know any better, moving.

 

“Listen,” a whisper commanded from behind the wall, “how did you get here?”

 

“Two officers dropped me off here and told me when it was dark to climb the hill and wait for the clanking to begin before I called your name.”

 

“What sector are you from?”

 

“Sector?”  Louis thought about the term but never remembered hearing it mentioned.  “Do you mean what village I’m from?”

 

“Village?  You mean you are not from here?”

 

“If you mean this city, no.”

 

“I’ll be back in about five minutes.  Just wait there.”

 

The shivers returned in an effort to ward off the cold.  He blew warm breaths into cupped hands to fight off the bitter sting of the cold and damp wind.  Hunger pangs bellowed from the pit of the stomach as the salt scented air blended in with a mouth watering aroma of delicacies from the other side of the wall.  He waited as patiently as he could, but the lack of warmth prompted him to stand and pace around a bit in an effort to bring about temporary comfort.

 

“Louis,” she whispered, “you’ll have to wait a few hours until the people clear out of here.”

 

“Emily, if it is no bother do you think you could bring me something to eat—I’m starved.”

 

“Listen carefully.  When I come back I’ll put a plate of food on top of the wall just above you.  But wait till you hear people laughing before you take the plate.  Do you understand?”

 

“I think so.”

 

Louis felt the affect of the dire circumstances.  Everything was being acted out so secretively.  It was a behavior he was not accustomed to back in the Village.  He was about to put an end to the madness and make his presence known to all when the sound of a plate breaking, the laughter from behind the wall, froze him in place.

 

Louis looked up and saw a rim of a plate sticking out from the top of the wall.  He snatched the plate from its perch and carefully sat down as to not to spill any of the food on the ground.  By the mere look of the food he was not quite sure of its source, but the rising steam brought a pleasing smell to the nose.  After the most heart rendering thank you to his Lord, he placed the tip of a finger on a brown liquid smothering what he could recognize as a baked potato and sampled the taste.  "Wow," he whispered, "Cookie never cooked anything like this."  With fork and knife in hand Louis proceeded to cut off a piece of what looked like meat, but it did not resemble the fine scrapple he enjoyed so much.  Quizzically chewing the small piece, he found it pleasing yet the meat had an unusual texture and lacked the rich flavor of that he was used to, yet it was delicious.  An assortment of vegetables was blended together in a colorful melody that tantalizingly contrasted with one another.  The biscuits he knew all too well, but upon sampling they were quite deceptive.  Saturated with what looked like creamy butter they erupted in the mouth with unbelievable flavor and were so light and fluffy that he momentarily considered how Cookie could call himself a cook.  In the midst of the feast provided by Emily, the clanking noise returned.

 

“Emily, thank you so much for this but can you get me something to drink please?”

 

“Of course.  Listen for the same routine.”

 

His body began to heat up as if the warmth of the day had suddenly broke through the cold of the night and bathed him with beams of sunlight.  With each bite of the tender meat the sparkle of scrapple started to fade from the memory.  A contented feeling, a pleasure bestowed upon him by his Father above, began to lift up his spirit to heights that just awhile ago had him sprawling on the ground both in body and soul.  He did not know Emily, or for that matter the officers and the woman that had ushered him away from potential trouble, yet his heart told him otherwise.  By faith he knew that the Lord he loved and worshipped was the same Lord they loved and worshipped.  By faith he knew the Lord was amongst them, guiding them by his Spirit with mercy and compassion.

 

A dish broke; laughter broke out.  Louis quickly grabbed the cup off the top of the wall.  The cup was warm to the touch.  Steam rose from the top.  A sip of the strange elixir evoked a response of disbelief.  Never had he tasted such a creamy and sweet beverage.  It had a distinctive taste that made it hard not to chug down in one full swallow.

 

“How are you doing Louis?”

 

“A lot better thanks to you.  And if you don’t mind me saying a lot better thanks to our Lord.”

 

Louis waited for a reply, but none came.  The lack of a reply did not matter.  Others may have seen him as torn and tattered, lost and alone, confused and out of place, but as always he knew his Lord had been with him the entire time for all the help he had received along the way.  He saw this with Emily, who no doubt was a sister in Christ and helped him without question; sight unseen.

 

Startled by a thick blanket landing just to the side, he quickly looked up.  Louis smiled, silently lipped a “thank you” to the Lord above and to Emily whose face was shielded from view by the stone wall.  He bundled up into the warmth of the blanket.  He used the stone wall to provide a back support and began to relax.  More lights in the sea of black came into view.  They were staggered.  Some were riding high towards the sky while some rode low, partially obstructed by the more familiar configuration of the dark faces of buildings.  And amidst the void there was a subtle comfort of the lights.  Transfixed for hours on the tranquility below, the serenity was broken with a set of clothes and shoes plopping down to the ground.

 

“As soon as you change make your way over the wall.  I’ll be waiting here.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“And Louis, put your old clothes and shoes, the plate and fork and knife and cup in the bag I threw down also and bring it with you.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Louis stripped off the rags and changed into the set of clothes and black shoes that were clean and fresh and pressed and shiny.  He placed the bag atop the wall and with a small amount of effort managed to lift himself to the top and over the wall and came to rest before a woman whom he assumed to be Emily.

 

He looked around in amazement at all of the hand crafted, highly stylized, and oversized tables and chairs.  The area had the appearance of a mess hall, but to describe it as a mess would be to wrongly label the appearance.  Candles, flickering in the slight breeze, illuminated the space with a soft and warm glow.  Although plates cluttered the tables with leftovers, goblets that contained half emptied contents of some liquid elixir, the area was stunning in both its inviting atmosphere and subtle tones of comfort.

 

“Louis,” said Emily as she tapped him on the shoulder.

 

Louis averted his attention from the area and turned to Emily.  Louis looked upon her petite stature, the light brown hair that swept over the shoulders, her white blouse and black pants and shoes, and wondered how she dared to risk whatever she had just to assist him at the time he needed it most.  But the answer was in her eyes.  Behind the exquisite blue hue he could see strength and a willingness to challenge any fear that may have been speaking in tones of doubt and worry.  More than by faith now, he knew she was a sister in Christ by the resolve she had demonstrated by helping a man she had never met.

 

“Emily?”

 

“My goodness,” she gasped while reaching out with a hand to his face, “what happened to you?”

 

“I was sort of in an accident, but I’m not hurt.”

 

“Come with me.”

 

Emily took a hold of his hand and led him to a bathroom.  Looking in a mirror, seeing for the first time the extent of cuts and lacerations that riddled his face, the dried crust of blood that surrounded the wounds, Louis was amazed that he had not been overcome with pain.  He marveled at the layer of filth all about his face and neck and sort of chuckled at the reflection.

 

Emily saturated a wash cloth with hot water and soap and ever so gently wiped away the grime and the blood that had dried in dark crusty blotches.  She patted the area dry and applied a cream by which she said would prevent any infection from manifesting.

 

Instantly, Louis was taken in by the kindness and concern she had for him, however, he felt ashamed and embarrassed at the same time.  Back in the Village he had known many women his age, but never had he allowed any one of them to treat any inflicted wound he received now and then from a mishap at the processing plant; not that they were permitted to do so in the first place.

 

“There,” whispered Emily after dabbing the last of the cuts with the cream.  “You look