The prophet by francoise

The prophet

Who should be the subject of the story? Should it be the prophet who made the prediction? Or should it be the one whose life was foretold? Actually, the boy’s life had not been precisely foretold. It was more that a set of possibilities had been laid out for him. If he became a river, the prophet said he would be joyful, whereas, if he became a lake, the prophet said he would be wise.

The prophet gave these enigmatic words to the boy’s mother shortly after the child was born. She did not know what to do with them, or even how to think about her son becoming a river or a lake. And were those even the only two choices? What about oceans or deserts? All she could think was, “if he is neither joyful nor wise, I’ll know he wasn’t a river or a lake.” She decided that the prophet’s words were rather nonsensical, however esteemed the man himself might be. She did not quite understand why people revered this man. Yes, he had helped many individuals rebuild full lives from the ruins of serious illness or addiction. Yes, he provided an uncompromising listening ear to those who needed it. Given to generalities, he only rarely granted specific advice, but when he did, it was usually spot on. Yet, many people in the world did these same things for others, and none of them were called prophets. Perhaps the reverence came from the fact that he led a thriving church and he had successfully kept the congregation in two-fold focus on God and on caring for each other. The boy’s mother had seen other congregations lose focus entirely, becoming not evil, but ordinary in their political squabbles. Should a ring-wearing woman be allowed to play the piano for worship services? Who would lead the teen Sunday school? But the prophet definitely led this congregation to become a community.

When the boy turned ten, it was pretty clear to his mother that he was a river. He ran constantly. He talked constantly. He had to be doing something all the time, but didn’t worry too much about what he had done the day before. His thoughts and actions just tumbled forward without cease. Plus, he was quite the cheerful soul. He was definitely a river. His mother rejoiced that her son would be joyful.

But by the time the boy was 16, he had stopped talking except about serious subjects. His face never showed a smile, or any other emotion for that matter. He cared about principles and scrutinized everyone’s utterances for consistency and adherence to grand principles. He had lost his faith, but still attended church. Interestingly, he did not find fault with the prophet. Somehow, the prophet managed to live and act in a plane that was morally sound enough for the boy’s adolescent righteousness. He was definitely a lake, his mother decided. Even though he was quite difficult to live with, his mother rejoiced that her son would be wise.

Seemingly an eternity later, the boy entered young manhood. The rules of the universe again allowed him to show emotions, to smile at people, to relax about their foibles and inconsistencies. Some days he was restless and moved forward constantly. That was when he was happiest. Other days, he was quieter and seemed to think deeply. That was when he was wisest. The mother realized that the prophet hadn’t actually been making either/or predictions about her boy. His words had been for her, to allow her to accept the various sides the boy would present to the world, each with its own benefits. When she thought about this great gift the prophet had given her, her breath would catch. She no longer doubted that the prophet deserved his name.
Great photo, framing...A great short story about acceptance and unconditional love...at least that's my interpretation :).
July 14th, 2019  
gorgeous
July 14th, 2019  
The image truly 'sings', fits your marvelous and thought provoking story.
July 14th, 2019  
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