It's Just A Story, But...

As I walked along the highway, I wiped the sweat off my brows and shook my shirt for the wind to blow through. The cars were passing by very fast - some very luxurious and others not. The people seemed pretty busy trying to get to their destination. When do they get the time to just breathe?

The sun hot and my jeans rubbing against my legs; my sweat running as the heat bounced from the dark highway and onto me. Low and behold, my journey on this particular highway was over when i saw the coming exit. The sign told me of a small town that it led to. I walked and followed the directions. I wonder if they're waiting for me...

I looked up to check the sun; afternoon was saying, "hello." I finally arrived; out on the green grass, I saw many children running around and the adults laughing by the fun and games that the festivities of Easter had brought. Here I was with my hair messed up with all the natural traveling and my clothes diritied from all my previous journeys. I wonder if they're waiting for me...

I walked with a smile. Maybe this time it will be different. Maybe this time they are waiting for me. Maybe this time... At any rate, I was walking towards the people in their best easter dresses and suits; the buildings of what it represented comforted me and I needed the comfort for I traveled very far and still have many places left to go.

"You there!" A voice called
I stopped and replied, "Yes?"
"What are you doing here?" The elderly had asked.
"I've come by to visit. May I-"
He interrupted, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave the premises."
"I'm sorry?"

I didn't understand. I thought they were waiting for me. I thought they wanted me. I thought...

"Sir, you're scaring the children and now, we don't want to make any trouble." He continued to tell me.
I sighed and understood, "I understand. I'll go if that is what you want."
I turned around with my heart once again heavy. When the man, who must have been a deacon, spoke to me, I felt the stares of condescension and mothers grabbing hold of their young ones to guard them from me; I could feel their desire to protect them from what they thought I was capable of.

Feeling guilty, the man called out, "Sir, what's your name? Maybe we can call the police so they can find you some sort of shelter or something."
I replied with a faint smile, "It's all right. I have many places to go - this being one of them. I am looking for my home and my children. I have a long journey ahead and I'm sorry for wasting your time."
I walked a couple of steps before turning to say, "My name? Some call me Father, but most call me Jesus."