You're Not Alone

         The sun shone brightly in the azure sky as the beautiful Sunday afternoon began. I couldn’t spot any clouds when I started out on my regular Sunday stroll. I passed through the same route I always took after church on Sunday. I had on my athletic shorts, white tank-top, and tennis shoes as I strolled around the block.
         Everything was as it usually was. A few houses were for sale, some groups of neighbors were outside doing various activities, and the atmosphere was peaceful and clean. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Not at first.
         When I rounded the next turn, I spotted a boy sitting on the curb at the end of the block. He hugged his legs tightly and his face was buried in his pants. I could not help but let curiosity get the best of me as I approached the child.
         I sat down beside the little blonde-haired boy on the curb. All he did in response was gaze at me.
         “Are you here to make fun of me too?” he asked me, his words barely coming out.
         I was shocked by the boy’s immediate question. “No. I simply came to find out what’s wrong.”
         The boy wiped his eyes as he extended his legs so they touched the paved road in front of him. His pants were wet with fresh tears. “I-I don’t have friends anymore.”
         I tried to have sympathy for the small stranger, “I’m sorry to hear. There must be some kind of reason though, am I right?”
         “Yes,” was the weak response. “I’m afraid you’ll make fun of me too, though.”
         “Nonsense. I’m an adult, and I promise not to hold anything against you.”
         The boy hesitated before giving me his answer. “I’m a Christian. My mother is too.”
         “I’m a Christian as well. How about your father?”
         I felt like such a pest asking so many questions. However, the boy willingly had been answering all of my questions. I couldn’t believe my ears when he gave the last response in a changed, clear voice, “Daddy’s with Jesus now.”
         My heart sank. I felt bad for the boy who had been weeping for an unknown time. “I’m sorry to hear.”
         “Now my mom has to work more than usual and I’m usually home alone when I get back from school. I only see her in the mornings. Since dad went away...” the boy’s tears began to form again. “I’ve never felt so alone.”
         I gave the boy the only advice I could give. “Young man, your father and Jesus are probably looking down on you right now. Jesus loves us with all his heart, and he watches over us all the time.”
         The boy stopped me, “If he loved me, why would he let dad die?”
         “It’s not Jesus’ fault that your dad died. Let me say something important: sadness is nothing bad or rare. Everyone goes through a sad time in their life sooner or later. Yours just happened sooner than others’ did. But just think, Jesus is the ultimate friend. He already died for you and he knew you before you were born. He’s with you all the time.”
         “So, I’m not alone?” the boy asked, his eyes filling with a new form of hope.
         “You’re not alone.”
         With that, the boy stood up and brushed off his shirt and jeans. He looked me in the eyes and sighed. “Thank you. I’ll try to remember that from now on.”
         And with saying that, the boy ran off to his house behind where we both had been sitting.
         I stood up and finished my walk, feeling in high spirits the rest of the walk. I hoped that that boy would really feel better from now on.
         Twenty years later, I found myself occupied with life and all of its tremendous horrors and complications. Finally, my life’s clock struck its hour of ruin: disaster hit me, and it hit me hard. The only family I had left, my father and mother, had gotten involved in a car crash. As soon as I received the news, I ran over to the hospital where they had been taken to.
         The inside of the large hospital was cold and almost scary. Oddly, the entire facility was like my entire state of mind: on the outside I looked fine, but on the inside I felt a mix of hope and despair. I eagerly looked through the glass and saw the doctors gathered around each of my parents. I waited for hours and hours leaning on the wall across the hallway, only to hear displeasing news in the end.
         A doctor with blonde hair and a firm build came into the hallway to see me after I had been told what was going on. He had a clipboard is his hand, and the papers bound to it were covered in unreadable scribbles. He stood close by me as he glared at me as I kept my eyes locked on the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
         “As you know, there’s nothing we can do,” the doctor said despondently. “I’m sorry.”
         I nodded my head. “I understand.”
         “You say they were your only family. Any friends close by?” the man kindly asked.
         I shook my head. “Nope. I have no one to help me through this.”
         “May I ask you a question?”
         I looked the man and our eyes locked. His blue eyes were gentle and kind. “Are you, by any chance, a believer?”
         “I am a Christian, yes. Right now it doesn’t seem like it though,” I replied as I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I just don’t understand all this. I feel so uncomfortable and without guidance.”
         The doctor scratched his neck, “A Christian man confronted me almost twenty years ago. I was sad and depressed over the death of one of my parents as well. However, he told me things I never could have thought of on my own when I was eight. He kept telling me of how Jesus was always with me. I don’t know if you can imagine how much that helped me through life. Look at me now! I’m a doctor.”
         “I just don’t feel like God’s been with me lately,” was all I could say.
         “Just remember one thing,” the man told me, and suddenly I could feel myself going back into my memories. My eyes filled with tears as I heard him speak the very phrase I had said twenty years ago, “You’re not alone.”