100 Theme #1: Prisoner Freed

I didn’t know her from a bar of soap. In fact, by that time, I had almost forgotten what even a bar of soap looked like. No, I don’t know why she stopped, how she got there, or what gave her the courage to speak to the likes of me; but meeting her changed my life forever.

The grey wall of the building across the alleyway was the same as always. The narrow empty street was dark, devoid of sunlight at any given time of day. Homeless wretches and drunkards would wander by on the odd occasion, but apart from these briefs spurts of activity, the street was as lifeless and dead as my heart within me.

For a time that I had lost count of, I clutched the steel bars of my cell. For another innumerable time, I closed my eyes in grief; my wrongs that had landed me in this prison came back to mock and taunt me again. The silence of my one room world amplified the voices of contempt inside my head; the volume like a roar that threatened to tear my heart in two. I was trapped body, mind and soul, and would stay so for the rest of my life. The thought that I might live to be an old man was more than I could bear, and I groaned aloud through gritted teeth.

All of a sudden, through the shroud of torturous voices that filled my head, I heard soft scuffing footsteps in the distance. Their hesitancy and lightness alerted me to the fact that the approaching person was not one of the alley’s usual stumbling beggars. Willing for any distraction to take my mind off my pain, I pressed my face against the bars and strained my eyes to look towards the end of the street. Eventually something came into view, and the figure standing there made me draw a sharp breath.

She would have only been around eight years old. Her yellow dress that reflected the sun almost made the darkness of the gloomy street seem lighter. Slowly she made her way down the street, hesitant and cautious. As she put one tentative step in front of another, I could see that she was treading carefully so as not to step in the oily puddles. Her tiny feet wore black satiny shoes, and her arms spread from her sides as though she would somehow keep a better distance between herself and the puddles that way. As she drew near to my cell window, I could see her tearstained face more clearly. She had blonde curly hair that framed aqua/green eyes, and her small mouth was turned down studiously as though she had just made up her mind on something. Her entire image reminded me so strongly of the daughter I once had, that the deep remorse swelled within me as a sob in my throat. I coughed, the sound shattering the silence of the street.

The girl gasped, stopped and looked up. By now she was level with my window and I could see down into her pure, guileless eyes.

“Oh, hello,” she breathed.

I swallowed hard, but didn’t answer. What right did a beast like me have to answer such innocence? I just stared back at her; soaking in her beauty through watery eyes.

When she received no answer, she put her hands up and let her fingers grip the stone ledge windowsill. “My name is Katie,” she said with more confidence than before. “What’s your name?”

I had to oblige her. Clearing my hoarse throat, I answered gruffly, “Aidan.”

“Aidan, I’m lost. Do you know where I am?” The sweet voice trembled, as did the eyelashes above those wet blue eyes.

“You’re a long way from where you are supposed to be, you’re on Rusted Lane,” I managed to say.

 “I may be lost, but I’m not afraid,” she answered resolutely, “God is with me.”

God? My eyes wandered from her face to the sky above me. That one word brought back over a million memories from the past; reminding me of feelings and emotions I thought I had buried forever. The weight on my heart grew heavier with each recollection.

“God may be with you, but He left me a long time ago,” I couldn’t help whispering the bitter truth.

“No!”

Her cry startled me. I looked back at her, surprised by the intensity in her eyes.

“He is always with you.”

I stammered. “Sunshine, you don’t understand. I’ve done... I’ve been...” The words to admit my shame failed me as I lowered my head to rest on the window ledge; the pain of guilt seeming to bleed out of my very soul.

Suddenly I felt her hand upon my head. Standing on her toes as far as she could reach, she stroked my rough gritty hair with her angelic fingers.

“God loves you!” She murmured. Hot tears streamed down my face as I raised my eyes to her glowing smile.

Suddenly a man’s voice gave a shout from the end of the alley. Looking up, I saw a tall smartly dressed man running towards us.

“Daddy!” The girl cried as her father reached her and he hugged his daughter to him. The man’s relief was evident on his face, as was the girl’s joy as she clung to him.

As I looked on numbly, her father glanced up at me; a gaunt faced prisoner, staring through the cell bars. The smile on his face froze: and we recognized each other. Slowly the young man stood to his feet from where he knelt to embrace his daughter.

“Come, Katie,” he finally said. Taking the girl by the hand, they walked back down the street.

“Bye Aidan!” She called back to me, waving over her shoulder. The young man’s back tensed, but he never looked back.

This was how I was reintroduced to the God who loved me, and how I met my granddaughter for the first time.