Moving On

This should be interesting! I have part one of a two part story. Brian Miller will have part two for you sometime today!

Dan Porter woke to the feel of the morning sun shining upon his unshaven face. These days there were no mechanical alarms to wake him. There were no responsibilities that required him to meet any deadlines. He had not worked in months, and had not gone through the proper channels in order to collect unemployment benefits. With just a few weeks remaining until Thanksgiving, most of his utilities had been cut off. He knew that the house was going to be taken from him, just as his car had been, nearly a month earlier. It was Sunday, and he felt like this would be a good day for him to make his move.

Dan got out of the bed, going through his usual ritual of grooming without the luxury of running water. He had a few water jugs that he had been secretly filling from the neighbors outdoor faucet. He went to the kitchen, opening up the pantry to see what kind of food that he could scrounge up. Peanut butter and crackers had been the staple meal for quite some time. He proceeded to eat his meal , washing it down with the tiny bit of Scotch that had remained from the night before. Alcohol was no longer an occasional indulgence, as it had been in the past, now it had become a way for him to take the edge off of his bitterness. After finishing his breakfast,
he then started to organize a game plan..

Dan knew that when he departed his neighborhood on this day, that he would not return to his house. He needed to take just what he could carry with him, it was time to say goodbye to his old life. In the course of a year, he had gone from being a Wall Street Professional, living in an upper middle class suburb, to being on the verge of the unthinkable. He had no family that he could rely on. The only relative that he really knew was his father, and they never got along anyway. His mother and his aunt, had died years ago. He was all alone.

He grabbed a duffel bag, and started going through his belongings, keeping anything that was comfortable and warm, or anything of value, which he might be able to pawn or trade at a later date. In the end, he had a full bag with about three hundred dollars worth of clothes, and left behind a closet filled with suits and ties. He walked toward the front door, and then stopped in his tracks. He had forgotten something. Dan retreated to the living room and grabbed a small photo album off of his coffee table. He put it in the duffel bag and walked out into the cool November air.

The neighbors watched him walk away. He could feel their pity, and he despised it. “Poor Dan”, had become a pair of words that made his blood boil. There was a part of him that was happy that he would not return to this place.

He walked for a while until he came upon his Church. It had been almost a year to this very day, since the last time that he had stepped foot into a house of worship. Dan was a religious man most of his life, attending Church regularly, always active in community events. He looked at the building and on this day, he felt compelled to walk to the entrance. He stepped inside and sat in the very back row, putting his duffel bag by his side.

He began to listen to the sermon and he heard words like “faith” and “wisdom” and “kindness”. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his little photo album and flipped it open to the first picture. It was a picture of him with his arm around a beautiful woman and a young girl standing between them. On the bottom of the photo was the writing: “Mommy, Daddy, and Chelsea”. It was written in a child’s handwriting.

It was in the beginning of November, the previous year, that he and his family had decided that they were going to do some early season Christmas shopping. Returning from the mall, an oncoming car veered into Dan’s path, forcing him to run off of the road and down an embankment. At the bottom of the hill sat a 52,000 pound piece of construction equipment. His sheet metal Honda was no match for the heavy steel monster. Like it is the natural human instinct to do, he steered his driver seat away from the crash, leaving all of the impact on the passenger side. He was dazed and bruised, but not seriously injured. His wife and daughter were dead on impact.

He looked at a few more photos, and listened to a few more “Amens”, and then he stood up.

“Hey!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, completely silencing everyone in the building, including the Pastor. “What kind of God would let my family die the way that they did?’ Tears began to roll down his face. “How can all of you people sit here and just buy into this crap that is spewed week after week? I am here to tell you all that you are wasting your time. Blind faith is for fools!”

Everyone stared at him, a few people gasped, but no one said a word. Two men started to approach him, and at that, he picked up his bag and beat them to the door. A year ago, right before Thanksgiving, he attended a service before he buried his Wife and Daughter. At that time, he swore that he would never enter another church again. He broke that vow today, in order to see if he wanted to give God one more chance. His family tragedy had cost him everything, his loved ones, his sobriety, his job, and especially his faith.

He began to walk down the street, no home, no destination, and no hope. It was going to be a pretty awful holiday season……..

Go see BRIAN and see what he has cooked up for Dan's future! Your guess is as good as mine!