Salem’s Will Be Done

Text Box: Everyone immediately stopped when the stoplight at Lexington and Third Avenue turned from green to red, and as a second precaution the orange hand pleaded with pedestrians to heed to oncoming traffic. All of them would obey and wait for the obligatory thirty seconds before being allowed passage to cross the street, and get on with their lives. But there is always one person, who believes that they can beat the odds, and on this Monday morning, Salem Joseph felt lucky or maybe it was invincible. He felt as if he had too much too live for and that whatever he did-God would protect him or so he foolishly thought. Besides, he rationalized as he sprinted into the oncoming traffic much to the horror of the patiently waiting pedestrians I have so much to give to the world before I die, and that won’t be for another at least fifty years. That was the last thought Salem would have, as a startled driver never saw him coming, and would crash into him pinning him under his Jeep Cherokee. The impact of metal meeting bones resounded through the entire street as New Yorkers watched this movie like scene being played out in front of them. The whole thing was so jarring that it didn’t seem real to most of the onlookers, and some expected a director to yell cut and then they would all clap at the realism. This was no movie and Salem lay unconscious under the Jeep Cherokee on the cold streets of New York. The absolute second before the Jeep Cherokee barreled into him; Salem found God again. The mere exclamation of “Oh God” is enough to bring God running to your side because he is after all our father. What father wouldn’t run to the side of one of his children who lay dying on a street full of strangers? There is no sadder way to die than in the company of strangers, and believing that you’re dying before your time. Only one man can save you before you take your last breath. Here comes God to the rescue minus the cape and all the theatrics. Text Box: In his unconscious sleep, Salem knew he should be in pain but his mind and body didn’t make the connection to register the reality of his situation. A muddle of noises, screams came streaming through to his mind, which was still alert, and it all sounded like bees buzzing inside his head. The concept of God wasn’t something Salem had spent his life wondering about. On Sundays while his friends were feverishly praying to God, Salem was busy watching Sunday morning cartoons. All his friends envied him because his parents didn’t make him attend church. They instilled in him the belief that hard work would always get him where he wanted to get in life, and not some arbitrary person chosen to represent the universe. “This God” his father Hassan always said is a figment of the imagination. His father would point to the sky and scream that if there is a God that he should come down now and strike him down. Even as a boy, Salem instinctively knew that there was something inherently wrong when his dad went on his patented rants. Through the years Salem had learned how to fade away into the background when his father would sarcastically ask anyone who would listen if they could see God walking in the sky. They would all look at Salem with pity in their eyes for having this crazy father. His mother, Salen was a silent accomplice to his father’s lunatic ravings. She would always defend him by saying that he didn’t mean any harm, but she would never indulge in his rhetoric. Religion to her was a personal choice, and she practiced it in a quiet, unobtrusive way. She had allowed Salem to choose the path of his heart, and trusted he would make the right decision. He always felt that she was disappointed that he wasn’t more religious or attended church, but again she never once voiced her displeasure. She played the role of a good wife and a good mother to Oscar perfection.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Text Box: There was a presence in his heart and mind that Salem had never felt before and it scared him. He lay there powerless to fight off this invasion, and for the first time in his twenty-three years of life; he wanted his father to protect him. The same way he had seen the other fathers in the neighborhood run to their sons rescue after taking a nasty spill on a bike or how the Dads would teach their sons how to drive or impart lessons about sports. Hassan did none of this with Salem. He considered these things to be frivolous matters that were a waste of his time, and that the only way to get ahead in this life was through hard work and education. Games were for the rich and lazy people who viewed life as fun and games, and didn’t do the necessary preparation for future success. If it was up to Hassan games would be outlawed and would be used as a reward for good behavior and excellent grades. It served him well growing up as child so he saw no reason to change with his son. The noise of the early morning city: taxicabs blowing their horns, rumblings of the trains below ground, thousands of pedestrians feet hitting the ground at the same time felt like an earthquake to Salem as he laid there. Even unconscious he would feel the city alive and vibrant about him. If he was sure of anything was the fact that he wished not to die. An unfamiliar sense of fear slowly creeped into Salem’s heart and without thought as if it was second nature to him; he began praying to a God he hadn’t needed until now. Much to his surprise God answered him. “Funny how some of my children conveniently forget about me until they need my assistance, and you’re not looking too good right now,” it almost sounded as if God was mocking him, but Salem thought better of it. After all, God is a loving God and a not mocking God he rationalized to himself. “What can I do for you my son,” again Salem thought that God was mocking him by calling him ‘my son’. After all, if God was the Father and he was the son; then he had been the worst son any father could ask for. He had been neglectful, and only in his hour of need did he seek out his Father. “God, I need your help,” Salem began in a voice barely above a whisper. So hushed was his tone that one could mistakenly confuse it for reverence. But how can you revere someone you don’t even believe exists? God heard Salem’s silent thoughts asked Salem the questions of his thoughts. “I’m listening, Salem. Is your belief in now of convenience or are you just now realizing that there is a Text Box: higher power responsible for everything around you?” The noise of the city had quieted and alone in his thoughts Salem tried to make sense of what was happening. Maybe he was knocked unconscious and was just hallucinating. God doesn’t come down from the heavens and make personal calls like a doctor or your cable guy Salem tried to rationalize. So this conversation had to be a dream he finally concluded. He was walking in the clouds and the sky was like solid ground. The Rain Maker was there also, and his long white beard was heavy with rain as he got ready to shower the world with his latest creation of April showers. But God was nowhere to be found. You’re never really here when you’re needed Salem found himself saying, but this time it was out loud and all heads turned to stare at him. They all looked around as if half expecting God to strike him down for his blasphemy, but all stayed quiet. Then the voice came again, and Salem heard it resounding through his heart, soul and spirit. He listened as his Father spoke to him. “The voice you’re hearing is not my voice. It’s your voice. It’s your heart speaking truth to you. Every time you thought I was mocking you it was your feeling of guilt manifesting into the voice of your conscience for disbelieving my existence, but you live everyday of your life without giving thanks for all your blessings. And now here you are supposedly waiting for death and now you call me. I am here now. I have always been here for you and your father. Let today be a rebirth of sorts and find the truth that you already know and embrace it. Even when you think I’m not there-I am.” The noise of the city returned and everyone looked at Salem in amazement as he got up to brush himself off. There must be a television camera or some sort of gag someone yelled to the awed crowd of onlookers. Salem didn’t have a scratch or any broken bones and the whole thing seemed like a dream but he knew it was real. Life would never be the same. “Praise the Lord,” someone patted him on his back as he waited this time for the light to turn red. Praise the Lord Salem whispered under his breath and crossed the street. Dean Jean-Pierre 2-11-06/8:43pm RETURN TO NEW STUFF