THE STRANGER'S TOUCH

I wrote it all down in my will for the lawyer. I wanted my family to have my possessions and this story as well, after I go to the other side.

This story states how it was for me. The Creator punished me but He relented in time. He gave me a pretty young woman; a waitress called Sophie to share the remainder of my life. My name was clearly written in my will, but Sophie called me Cookie, and that's more than good enough for this story.

I was not important in this life; I was just a stranger to all and even to myself.

While I possessed little importance in this life, the story, however, is very important. If a man is in danger of losing his soul, I would say that made it very important. How did it all come about? Is it a love story? Is it a story about philosophy? Is it a story about the human condition and suffering and pain? Yes, yes, all of that but much more.

It began in early fall; September I believe it was. I was in my early fifties and as ignorant as was possible for a man in this life. Was there sorrow and regret and emotional agony that struck my mind? Yes, yes, it was all of those failures and much more.

Many think I was blest, and many are they who would be convinced I was cursed. I suppose it was somewhere between those two poles of extremity.

It was a lovely day, a little cool perhaps, but not a cloud in the sky, so they said.

I had been told that on this fine fall day, as the chill was on the air, I went for a walk to the back field. I often spent an hour or two merely thinking and calling out to the God I was told was real. There was a Deity in all creation, and I was told that I believed, at least they said I wanted to believe. They said how I often cried out to the Creator seeking knowledge of His reality. The neighbor often heard me calling out to the clouds in the sky, `Where are you? Why don't you respond if you are real?' It was no different that day when I issued a loud tirade. My neighbor, I once knew him well, but no more, was walking his dog and saw me pointing to a rather small, dark cloud that had somehow appeared just above me in the sky. I was demanding to be heard by the Creator. At that moment, lightning streamed from the black cloud and struck me.

When lightning struck me, my neighbor guided me to the house where I once lived. Standing outside, they said I gazed about me like a lost child that was dumb struck, until a woman came out to see why I didn't come back in. It was beginning to cloud over. The rain had begun to fall, and a cold wind started to blow. How strange it all was, for they said it was a perfect day in the beginning. Only one small dark cloud had appeared and discolored the blue sky, but now many clouds sped across the sky. I stood alone, a stranger in my own land.

I was a perfect stranger to myself and to all who once knew me. Most of my past life had been erased. Standing before them was as an innocent child with no remembered sin or wrong thinking beyond the outrage I offered the Creator. Yes, I remembered some of my derogatory comments directed toward the Heavens and a few necessary things like math and taxes; basic things. Did I do many wrongs in life? I can be sure I did. I would probably testify as to the evil deeds I had performed with great sadness. But I cannot remember them to say how each was performed or the why of them or that I needed to ask for forgiveness for them.

The future seemed a frightening place to contemplate. I thought where could I go; to whom can I say, yea, brother, I know thee well? I have no recollection of skills I've been told I once had. If my means of livelihood had been taken away from me, what was the good of it? Must I begin again and re-learn all the things I once knew? I was still able to spell and count. I still knew the basic facts of life, but all the other common things that anyone should know have evaporated like a mist in the sun. Only one thought kept coming back to me, it was about a man called Job, but I knew no man by that name. I knew him not.

At the hospital all the bustle of nurses and doctors with their knowing glances were on parade. I was some sort of freak. I was struck by lightning, still alive but mentally gone in an instant. They asked me many questions, but what was I to tell them? The doctors subjected me to all sorts of probing of my mind. Why had this happened? How had this happened? I was not injured beyond a severely burned finger and a small hole in the bottom of my right foot.

The memory loss brought to me a great deal of pain and regret. My family came to the hospital to see me; I listened. My children and I were only able to stare in the general direction of one another. I was told my wife loved me, and we had a loving relationship. I said, but my dear loving wife, I know thee not. One child asked me why I was talking like that. How could I say the why of it? The visits were pure disaster. Each one stood near my bed and stared into my eyes that were wide and clear. My face produced an unfathomable nothingness in response to the knowledge my family thought important to convey to me. They said as a deacon of the church, I was a leading church member and a good father and a good provider and a loving husband and a true friend. On and on it went. Nothing could bring back all the major and minor keys to my once happy life they had shared with me. But, I wondered; was I ever really happy?

I wasn't locked in as a prisoner, as I was not a threat to others or to myself. I was more a medical curiosity than a real patient. No restrictions were placed on me. I was allowed to walk the halls and visit other patients. I then found out what I had gained. Ah, how my mind struggled with the questions that had no easy or possible answers.

As I was free to wander, I came upon a little girl's room. Her condition intruded as it came uninvited in a terrible vision that invaded my mind. This child was beyond ill. I gazed at her, and all the physical failures that had befallen this unfortunate child came rushing into my mind: A defective heart, a weak liver, and both were reaching for failure. She was blind from birth. I have no way to tell how exactly it was possible. By some means, I held her in my mind for a few moments as a healing force streamed toward her, and then she was released. I said she was released by some force not known to me; it was none of my doing.

I was struck a terrible emotional blow to my entire being. My breath came in short gasps and my hands shook. I struggled to understand what had slammed into my brain. But if one has no answers, the questions would simply dangle in mid-air and quiver with a power all their own.

The little girl began to scream in pain. "It hurts my eyes; mommy, it hurts my eyes."

Sunlight had penetrated the shadowed room in an intense narrow stream between the slats of the window screen and struck her eyes. Her mother was standing by her bedside and took her hand and asked her, "What is it Suzie, what is it that hurts you?"

"I see you mommy. I see you."

In my mind's eye, I saw in another vision, quite clearly...