"Eyes of the Stranger" follows the last moments of a man caught in a bitter struggle between acceptance and betrayal.
Maybe some secrets are destined to be kept.
I have lived my entire life trying to be something I believe now I am not.
I see what has become the current world around me in havoc, I see children of all ages crying, running, flying forward, backward, peaceful people, screaming people, chaos, the exterior matching the interior, fear-filled panic. I see everything but hear only the sound of my own heart and the last words I spoke echo inside my head on repeat.
People I do not know will spend their last moments with me. I pity their soles be taken to justify my own.
I question GOD!
I tried to live my life as I should, I tried to make of myself what He would have desired. I tried to make her happy, had three children, stayed home when I could and built His house. I studied His laws, lived by His rules, and wanted for nothing.
I was pulled from his reigns.
The first mission we took we traveled together to Gambia, we sat arm in arm, hand to hand we prayed. Our first trip as a family we flew over 6 hours directly south along the western coast of Africa to Banjul, Gambia. We heard from those in our own fold the Hell we would find in waiting, I expected to find barren dry lands, huts infested with carnivorous flies, dehydrated and diseased children, I expected to find the Godless. What I found was nothing short of joyous. The land was lush and green, the people happy, strangely glowing with health. My own family pale and sickly in comparison. After a week of local missions we traveled north across the large open mouth of the Gambian River to Essau in North Bank then directly West through a changing landscape of dusty roads and Shanty towns- now that is what I waited to see- inside three hours we came to a small community of metal structures known as Barra. Africa, little was to be said of the peace I found in its presence. If He existed He was here -I believe this is where my faith was marked with doubt in Him- We spent less than a week on mission in Barra, gathering the children in prayer, contributing assistance where necessary at the medical station. I grew fond of the chats with locals, the tea they served not unlike our own, yet preserved in a time before the noontime rush. We would sit in our lawn chairs downtown Barra talking for hours about culture, tradition, family and religion. I was surprised by their response to the Mission they all seemed quite happy to have us.
His love was in my heart, it radiated within me, filled my soul. I was doing what was right by Him, and yet why did i feel his absence?