My first ten years of life I filled with self, self, self, and self alone. Only cared I for the things you gave me. I wanted food, sleep, and pleasure. I was as a monkey self-intent. I cared not who was near me nor cared why.
And then, the next few years instilled in me a growing sense of “presence.” Presence of what cared I not, but only knew that if I did a right, this “presence” smiled. But when on self I thought—and, so thinking, wronged another—this “presence” scowled.
At length I grew to love this “presence” and to call it God. It helped me see it was the truth of life. I saw it should be followed and I tried to draw it near. But it said, “You are not ready,” and hovered near.
I was discouraged when I found I had it not. I flatly told it off, returned—almost to the first stage of my life. I took up smoking, swore, had a good time—thought I didn’t care.
But then this “presence” whispered encouragements to me. I listened. It held before me such a light, I couldn’t help but try. I only feared this light I might not reach before I die.
In struggling, I found my frailty. And God, in whisperings, showed me, too, my strengths. And so I did discover another method: failing that, a personal creed to cover both talents and setbacks was necessary.
Indeed, it did great wonders, for the difficulty of fulfillment gave me a chance to know and try my strength.
Yet found I that this creed could not be filled, and so I added to it “Presence of God,” which made, with sure conviction, all pain and inconveniences worthwhile.
Even with this addition, would the light not come. I now was struggling only for HIS PRESENCE within me; yet, I had it not. I let Him talk to me; I begged Him to. I followed what He would: His will, I tried to do.
And so, the sun bore a gift for me today. Dear Mother, “it” has come to me—and on the perfect day. The perfect day, because in my hand I hold acceptance to the Armed Forces of the United States of America. I’ll take the bus tomorrow.
Your loving son
Associated Press—“Ten people were killed tonight in the worst traffic disaster of the season. A late afternoon bus collided with an oncoming truck and overturned. The dead included four business executives, the mayor of a small town, and a young woman. For a complete list of the deceased, turn to page thirty-two.”
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“For every man must get to heaven his own way.”
The End
