Some of us were born with a high intellect. There are multitude of scholars or want to be scholars, but! Not many chosen at a time to travel the lonely road of a messenger.
Lonely Road Of A Messenger?
The road is lonely—not many there traveling, but! The messenger? The messenger learns to cherish that loneliness. It’s in that road the Father Creator carves His image within us.
What Happens During And After The Process Of Carving? …
Conviction. Repentance. Restoration, but! The length of time for each? A lifetime on these earthly grounds. For me?
The Cradle Where This TRUE Story Began? A Beautiful World Wrenched From That Unsuspecting 8 Year Old Little Girl ….
The Family? My Family? The most descriptive display of such horror in this insanity ridden world! Even so? Behold! The Power Of Love & Wisdom From On High Drenched Upon Us All. It Never Fails. It Always Avails!
Real Man Do Cry….
We were a family—Don Miguel Jose Licona—his Family. He was a king in his own right. We lived in his kingdom abiding by his unbreakable laws. At the sound of his name? People trembled.
Indeed! My Father was a MAN, but! I saw him cry. Real man do cry. I shall never forget that amazing moment.
The Fire. The Death Of Carlitos. I Saw My Father’s Tears….
I was just 8 years-old. I was standing at the entrance of our sleeping house. I had just gotten up. The kitchen house had gone up in flames along the whole year’s supplies while I slept.
I was perplexed. My grandmother and the rest of the help were cooking on the remaining coals from the fire. The hut had burnt to the ground. The efforts from the 40 field workers to quench the fire did not avail.
My new born baby brother Carlitos had died. Papa–so tall as he was, dressed in his high boots and kaki trousers and long sleeves shirt? He paused by my side. O what a vivid memory! Don’t know if he even saw me. He paused, his tears flowing he lamented, “He was just a month old!”
Not tears about the fire. Tears about his son. Wow! Real man do cry!
The End Of My Beautiful World ….
Shortly afterwards, he moved us to another of his farms and my whole beautiful world turned out not so beautiful anymore. I had loved that beautiful spot on these earthly grounds.
That Beautiful World? The Cradle Where This TRUE Story Began….
Dear Reader, welcome to THE FAMILY. A TRUE STORY. That beautiful world that was wrenched from that unsuspecting 8-year-old little girl? The cradle where this TRUE story began.
The Beauty Of The Beginning Turns Into A Horror For That Unsuspecting Child….
The later years? Mark the most gruesome of childhoods for that unsuspecting 8-yrs-old child. The new farm had no resemble to her cherished beautiful green world, but!