Home

The seasoned veteran of hundreds of battles slept soundly. The woolen blanket that lay loosely across his chest raised and lowered slowly with each breath as the ox cart, his bed, rolled and rocked along the rutted old road. The war raged on but after years of active duty this soldier was headed home. He was pleased with the prospect. Loved ones he hadn’t seen in years awaited him.

As his slumber deepened, he dreamed of conflicts past. There he was as a young buck, 18-years-old, a cadet being tested on the front lines. Flaming arrows by the thousands, it seemed, glanced off his shield as he lay face down in the trenches begging for mercy and help. It had come. Fellow soldiers had surrounded him and lifted him up. Their companionship in the fight had given him strength. Their stories and instruction had made him a better warrior.

The scene in his mind’s eye shifted quickly, dramatically, as visions are wont to do. Now 44, he spotted himself in a mass of soldiers, head down, sobbing as the others celebrated. In his dream world, it seemed like yesterday. Red-hot tears dripped down his sun-chapped cheeks, dampening the pillow under his head. He’d felt like such a failure then. Miserable. Ready to quit. The enemy had won too much ground on his corner of the battlefield. A kind word from a single wet-behind-the-ears recruit, was all that saved him from utter despair that day. That time had passed and he’d returned to the fray, but the wounds were deep and, though scabbed over, hurt even now. Maybe when he got home he’d finally find peace.

Years passed in a flash over the eyelid screen of the warrior's mind. He now saw himself as he had been just twenty-four months earlier, the newest teacher at the academy. He barely knew how to act in his new surroundings, but there he was. Newly recruited fighters hung on his every word as he told of days gone by, battles won and lost. His youngest son and his eldest grandson were among them. Both had enlisted on the same day. Both eager to catch up on years wasted in other pursuits, asked questions about the warring skills they’d need. The veteran had poured himself into these dear ones and their classmates. He was so proud when two months ago his grandson had spoken in his final class about victories won. He’d be alright. He’d survive. A smile, a smirk really, crept across grandpa’s lips.

All that was past now. The old man’s breathing slowed even more. His dreams ceased. The quilt covering him fell once more. It did not rise.

"Welcome, faithful warrior!" The Commander’s voice was joy-filled. "Wake up! Come! Enjoy! You’re home!"

To receive my once or twice weekly message via email and join the "webmessage" discussion group, send a blank email to webmessage-subscribe@associate.com. Past messages (there are well over 100) are available at www.associate.com/groups/webmessage.