A Story, An Autumn Beginning

It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves were beginning to turn colors, the sky was a clear majestic blue, there was a slight crisp in the air and you could tell that the earth was preparing for a long winters nap. Mother nature was beginning to slow down, but yet still had one or two more turns around the dance floor before her winter slumber. A young man pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, positioned  his car and stepped out. Looking up to the sky the autumn sun warmed his face and for a mere moment everything seemed OK. Walking towards the entrance of the building his heart began to sink.  It was as if with each step his heart hung lower and lower. Halfway to the door his hands begin to twitch a little.  To disguise this nervousness he began rubbing his face as if he was questioning himself if he had shaved that day. Approaching the cement steps that lead to the door his heart began to pound harder and harder. As he placed his left foot on the first step his stomach began to churn. With his right foot on the second step his eyes began to look around as if he was looking for escape. With his left foot on the landing he wanted to run. He wanted to run through that door up the stairs and quickly into his apartment. Feeling of a heavy weight came over his entire body.  It was as almost as if it felt like he was going to be sucked up by the earth from the weight that he felt. Opening the door he walked inside and stared at his mailbox. Dare he touch it, dare he look? So nervous and anxious he just wanted the whole world to melt away. Fumbling with his keys he finally open the mailbox. It was crammed full, as if it could not except another piece of mail. Refusing to look at any of the labels he merely wadded up all the mail in his two hands and proceeded to his door. He unlocked the door, went inside and threw all the mail on the table immediately to the right of the entrance of his apartment. He did not turn around.  He refused to look at it. He had done his part for the day. He went over to his couch, sat down and turned on the television slowly his body began to calm. 

It was Monday, the only day he would allow himself to retrieve his mail. Opening the mailbox and seeing what was inside was just too stressful for him to do it every single day. The young man got up and got something to eat and after having a bit of lunch gathered together his courage. Pausing for a moment he thought about what he might incur and then started flipping through the mail. At first it seemed like it was going to be a pretty good day most of the mail was just junk, but then he began to see what was in store, first 1, 2, then 3, 4 notices from the bank. His heart sunk, he began to sweat, his legs got weak and he felt like he might fall to the floor. He didn't need to open all of them he just opened the last one. His eyes opened wide as he saw the amount of money he owed. As of late, life seemed long and hard and with no hope. Friday would be payday and at least he would make enough money to cover the debt. He might even have enough left over to cover the alcohol and cigarettes he would need to make it through the weekend. Emotionally he felt as if he had just run a marathon. Exhausted he walked over to his couch and laid down and fell asleep. 

Things had been this way for most of the last year. It was a long time in the making, the young man's life had been slowly disintegrating. There were many an evening where he would spend moments thinking about where he would end up, but as soon as the fear overcame him he would look for a distraction rather than face the cold hard truth. Most nights he would come home from work to empty home void of love. He would drink alcohol until he was too tired to watch any more television and sleep on his couch till it was time to goto work again. Night after night the screen flashed empty stories of pretend characters that the young man longed for. He longed for a life that was full of love and hope. He would stare vacantly at the screen while his thoughts ran wild in his mind, though once he started to think about how to put thoughts into action he was clueless. He felt stuck and helpless. There was no way that he could ever crawl out alive from his current life situation alone. His dreams would nosedive as his hopes plummeted, and again his drink would rise to his lips.

Laying there with his eyes wide open his alarm would beep. For a moment he hoped that work would call and tell him some story of why he didn't have to come in, but it didn't. Rising up he pulled himself together. As he walked out of his apartment he glanced down at the mail he had opened earlier. It was over for now, it was time for him to head back out into the real world. The door shut like a prison door behind him. The room sat still as if it were frozen in time. The sunlight slowly passed the blinds in front of the window till it was no longer existent. A few hours after sunset the doorknob began to giggle. The knob slowly turned and the young man entered the apartment again. Shuffling like a zombie, he walked into the bedroom, he disrobed and put on some more comfortable clothing. Back to the kitchen area the young man grabbed a beer out of the fridge, pausing for a moment he then grabbed two. The first drink always went down so fast. Back on his couch he fired up the television, opened his beer and lit a cigarette. 

He tried to watch TV but the show was just too happy. It reminded him of how utterly lost he was. As he held his forehead he began rewinding the last few years. He was searching his past. He was trying to remember the last time that he was truly happy. Halfway through a drag on his cigarette it dawned on him. He stopped inhaling and the smoke began to roll out of his mouth and across his face. Whether it was the memory or the smoke, his eyes began to well up. Tears began to roll down his face until they reached the middle of his chin. There they dripped and began to wet the carpet below. Putting out his cigarette he then rubbed his eyes, bloodshot he couldn't stop crying. His thoughts had drifted all the way back to high school. He remembered a time when he felt optimistic and free. Most importantly though he remembered how he had felt so peaceful. What was so different? What was so different about his life back then compared to now? He didn't have a great job. He didn't have a lot of friends. His family was the same then as it was now. 

Then it dawned on him, and his head sunk even lower.

The difference was that in his youth he believed in and followed more than himself. His life was not about chasing momentary pleasures as it did now. When he was younger he had faith. He believed in God. His life was about more than just himself. He was dedicated to a life of loving, not just God, but everyone he met. In contrast his now was all about himself. It was about feeding each and every desire that he had. He used anyone he could to get what he wanted. Sure there were people that he cared about, but he cared about himself most of all. He was wrong. Deep down he knew that he was wrong and that was why he was so cold and alone. The more he tried to fill himself with pleasure the more empty he felt. The young man wanted more. He wanted to feel free. He wanted to feel loved, more importantly he wanted to love. He knew what he had to do, but he was scared. 

"No", he thought, "It's too impossible. I have done too much. I have sinned too much. There is no way I could turn around now. God would never take me back."

He thought again about those beautiful teen years. Life wasn't perfect but it was filled with so much hope and love. As he opened his eyes he looked around. The life he was a part of now was too intimidating, it was too big of a mess. There was no way he could turn that all back around. Who was he after all? Feeling defeated a whisper flickered in the back of his conscience, so small but so clear. 

"I can help you", it whispered. 
Initial hope was quickly drowned out by male pride, "I don't need any help", he thought, "I got myself into this mess I can get myself out."

"I love you", the voice whispered.

The man's eyes welled up again. He gave up on trying to hold back the tears. The words were those that he had longed for some time to hear. Sobbing he put his face in his hands. 

"I'm so sorry", the young man could barely get the words out. Instantly all the wrongs he had committed over the past years came rushing in. Was it possible? Could he be forgiven? Could he try and start over again? 

"I'm waiting to help you if you want, but you have to let me in" the voice whispered.

Sobbing the man stated out loud, "I'm sorry. I just so sorry. I don't care. I can't do this anymore. Please, please I beg of you God forgive me. Please take all this away. I am so sorry. I will try, I promise. Please make me whole. Make me better. Fix me, I am so broken. Please be my God. I am just so sorry. Please teach me to be better. I am anything but perfect. I know I have made a million mistakes and will make a million more but I can't do this on my own anymore. Please come into my life. I take you as my savior." 

The man could barely pronounce all the words he was sobbing so hard. Feeling emotionally spent he just sat there in a hovel on his couch.

"It's okay, you need to rest now", the voice whispered.

The man turned off the television, laid down and went to sleep. He didn't know where he was going or where he would end up, but for the first time in a long time he wasn't scared because he knew he wasn't alone.