So recently I have just had a miracle happen; in fact it happened just last night. To most, this posting might not seem too miraculous, but I beg to differ.
So last night was a beautiful night and I still had yet to ease my conscience by working out for the day. Working-out yet at times is fun, but I think it's mostly a guilt thing for me...Here's a quick word for the wise: Please don't ever get to the point where you feel like you have sinned if you haven't worked out for the day-it's most definitely not healthy. Anyway that is my quick plug for why no one should be like me. Okay moving on, so I went for a jog and I came across a gold mini-van and it had it's lights on inside the car. I stopped for a second to see if the doors were unlocked but they weren't. I was just about to move on and then my conscience got the better of me again and I decided to go knock on some doors. This van was parked in front of a house, but it was obvious that the house had been split up into apartments. The first door I knocked at received no response. Even though secretly I think they were home and that they were scared of me. To be sympathetic however, I would be scared of a random knocker at 9 o'clock at night too. Once I realized that door wasn't going to work I went to the next one. The next door was a success and friendly man informed me that the owner of the van most likely lived upstairs. Therefore, that sent me on a journey up some tall, rigidy steps....Okay now I need to stop and pause the story for a second and give some insight. Actually this deserves its own paragraph...
...Okay this part of the story might seem random, but it serves a point...I want all those that are reading this to stop and think about what goes on in their mind when they hear about things like Columbine or high school shootings. When I hear stories about these type of things my mind races back to high school and I just hope that I was a kind soul. I also think about this one certain kid. He was a nice kid but he always dressed in black, wore long cloaks, and wrote stories about blood and gore. Whenever I think about him I also wonder what ever became of him. Is he okay? Does he still live that life style? Is he happy?...many questions race through my mind. Plus lately it seems like I have heard these type of stories a lot, so it feels even more relevant...okay that description will suffice for what is coming next...unpause...
So I'm climbing up some long stairs and I knock on the door and low and behold it is this kid from high school looking totally normal. I awkwardly said "I recognize you" and that was about as social as I got. I then later explained the van situation and he affirmed that it was his and that he was grateful. After that quick encounter I basically just skipped away.
Now whenever I hear sad stories about shootings I don't have to worry about this fellow classmate of mine-what a relief! The fact that provides the greatest relief was the mini-van. A mini-van in my minds eye is a symbol that represents family, stability, and humility (Because lets face it, a mini-van is my dream vehicle but no one drives them because they want to look cool). Maybe that's being prejudice towards mini-vans but that's how I see it.
So that was my miracle. It has made me pleasantly happy to know that things have turned out all right for him. Now I'll never have to worry again.
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