The sun rose again this morning – I never really doubted it would. I fixed and then ate a hearty breakfast with Master – which I’ve gotten to do every morning since I came to work with him, but which wasn’t always true before. I finished my chores by noon – which I do most days. After lunch I had a chance to sit by the fire and watch snow falling through the large window by the fireplace. It was during that time of doing nothing that I had a chance to think.

My mother raised me with a consistent message – hope. Being poor, not many days went by without me hoping that my tummy would be full when I went to bed, or on winter nights that our house would not collapse on us from the snow. As I grew older I realized that my hope was not just an idle wish, but it was a hope that something or someone greater than my mom and dad was looking out for us.

When I was old enough, my mom started taking me to church. I came to understand and believe that that someone was God. My hope was that God would keep our house from falling; that he would give my father a steady hand and a sure aim. I prayed and thanked God for watching over me and I didn’t worry as much about where my next meal was going to come from – because it always seemed to come.

It wasn’t until my dad died that I really understood what hope was. He slipped and fell while fishing. He left Mom and me to take care of the family. What could I do – I was too young to take care of a family. Somehow we survived. But in those cold and lonely nights I learned something else about hope. I learned it from my mother.

She was sad when my dad died – I was sad too – but she didn’t let it make her days sad. I wanted to complain about being left alone – she wanted to talk about how God helped her through another day. I felt bad because I couldn’t provide for the family – I felt like a failure – but my mom thanked me every night for working so hard and giving of myself for the family. I asked what the point was of going on, and my mom told me about where my dad had gone.

My mother’s hope gave her strength. My mother’s hope gave me strength. My mother’s hope gave me hope. Together our hope held up our family. We made it through that first winter without dad. I learned to fish. Things started to get better.

But that’s not what really happened. What happened was I had hope – that no mater what happened God would use it for good. That whether I lived or died I had a place in heaven waiting for me. That if I did my best – if I did with my heart – it didn’t mater if I succeeded or failed because I wasn’t being judged – there was no score board.

So this afternoon I thought about hope as I watched the snow falling and covering the new green shoots of spring. I don’t struggle with hope any more. My heart does not long for things to be a certain way. My mind doesn’t hope that I will do well so I don’t get in trouble. I don’t have to hope because I already know, in my mind and in my heart, that my hope is secure. I am loved and God will take care of me – what more could I hope for – and I know that in a few days the snow will melt and the green shoots will start reaching for the sun again and spring will soon be here – and still I will be loved and God will be taking care of me.

 

“Take a step forward.”

I stood frozen with my eyes covered by a cloth. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I knew what was in front of me – I’ve run up and down these hallways a hundred times in the dark.

For some reason this was different. Choosing not to see, when I could, somehow made the thought of walking down the hallway terrifying.

Was it that I couldn’t see, but master could? Was it that I didn’t trust master? I should have. He has always kept me from harm’s way.

“Brian,” his voice came again, “Take a step forward.”

I took a deep breath and then took a step. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. What did I think would happen?

“Another.”

I took another deep breath and took another step. It was easier than the first. I took another step before master could tell me, again.

Two more steps and I was guessing I would reach the stairs in one or two more. I paused, not wanting to take the next step.

“Quickly, Brian.”

I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, replacing the darkness of the blindfold with spinning stars. I took a step.

I was falling. I flailed my arms looking for something to grab. I didn’t find anything and felt myself falling head first down the stair well.

I was imaging a step meeting my head and splitting my head open. Why had I taken that step? Why had I trusted Master?

Then as quickly as the falling sensation started it stopped. It didn’t stop with a thud or a crash. It just stopped.

I was still upside down, but I wasn’t falling.

“Take off you blindfold.”

I did and found myself floating in the air halfway down the stair case. Master stood at the top and was smiling at me.

He reached his out to me. “Take it,” he said.

I took it and he pulled me back to the top of the stairs and set my feet back on the ground.

As I watched him walk away I wondered at the lesson he had just given me. It is hard to have faith in others.

Master told me to wait. He didn’t tell me what to wait for or how long to wait – he just told me to wait. So what was I to do? I waited. I stood by the garden gate, which was where I was when he told me to wait. It was cold. I had my jacket on, but standing in the snow it was still cold. I tried to stay still, but I’m only ten. My mom once said, “Little boys were not made to be still,” – I think she’s right. I picked up a stick and started knocking the snow off of the top of the fence. It only took me ten minutes to clear all the snow off.

I tried to stand still again, but I didn’t do a very good job of it. I found myself jumping back and forth, from one leg to the other. Then the wind picked up and blew snow into my face. I turned my back to the wind – it helped a little. I listened to the wind blowing through the hood of my jacket. I imagined it was talking to me. “Why would we wait? What was wonderful when war was won? Where were we when wind went?” Then I heard another sound ­– a scraping.

I turned around and searched for the source of the sound. The snow stung my eyes as a squinted against it. All I could see was white. I strained against the swirling, blowing snow trying to see a pattern in it. All I saw was white; then I heard the scraping again amongst the roaring that the wind had become. I looked where I thought the sound had come from. I thought I could make out the building across the street.

I opened the gate and started walking toward where I had heard the sound. The wind was blowing so hard now that I was leaning into it. I shuffled my feet – being afraid that if I picked my foot up into the air I might be blown over. I kept walking until my foot hit something. I knelt down and I could make out a person on the ground.

I moved beside the body and found an arm. I pulled on the arm and got the person to stand up. I pulled the person back to the gate and then to the tower. It was easier walking back to the tower since the wind was to our backs. The person leaned heavily on me but I managed to hold the person up. We reached the door and I opened it – the wind blew us both through it. The person collapsed to the ground and I struggled to get the door closed.

The wind started blowing harder and snow started falling. I helped the stranger to the fire and added logs to it; then I went and made some tea. I found out that this stranger was a young woman who was visiting from out of town. As the storm grew stronger outside she told me of her adventures and thanked me for helping her.

When she warmed up, she fell asleep in front of the fire. I sat there and watched her for several hours while listening to the storm raging outside. I put some more logs on the fire and then I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew Master was gentling shaking my shoulder.

“Did you wait?” he asked.

“Yes Master, I did.”

“Good boy, go back to sleep.”

In the morning Master had me make breakfast for our visitor and him. After she ate she thanked me again and left – leaving me to wonder how Master had know that I had needed to wait, and if he had know what I had been waiting for. I’m glad that I listened to Master and waited. I’m also glad that I listened to my own heart and knew when it was time to stop waiting.

I discovered something else that I like about living with Master. It snowed last night, and this morning I don’t have to shovel any show. From the look of the snow on the rooftops, it must have snowed a lot, but some time early this morning workers cleared the streets – they even cleared the walkway to our door.

I snuck outside and walked down the Promenade. The mighty oak trees stretched towards the sky like some gnarled skeletons striped of all their leaves. It was a little scary.

I walked down to the inn and bought a cup of hot tea. I paid the extra copper piece to have some honey in it. I sure do like having some of my own money to spend. The tea warmed me and I felt wonderful as I walked back home.

Today was supposed to be a good day!

Master sent me out to the market to buy food for the week. Usually someone just delivers the food, but he said that I had proved myself this last week. He said that I had been very responsible in getting all my chores done and so I deserved to go out and have some fun.

It started out fun enough. Master gave me a little pouch of coins and I headed out. I walked down the promenade and felt like I belonged there. I was whistling a little tune my dad had taught me several years ago. The sun was shining brightly and its warmth felt good on my back – causing my sore muscles to relax.

The fun ended when three boys step out in front of me. The biggest one said something like, “You don’t belong in the good part of town. Who gave you permission to crawl out of the sewer?” I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there looking at him. Then he said, “Are you dumb as well as poor?

I finally found my voice and said, “I do to belong here.” I don’t think I really believed it and I’m sure they didn’t.

One of the other boys said, “Only rich people belong here. Are you a rich person? If you are then go ahead and prove it.” Then he pulled a pouch that jingled with coins in it. “Do you have one of these?”

I felt the weight of Master’s coin purse in my pocket, and on my thoughts. It took me a moment to decided what to do, but then I patted my pocket and made the coins jingle. “I have coins.” I said trying to sound important.

The first boy responded, “Who’d you steal them from?” The three boys then started laughing and shoving each other.

I got mad and yelled at them. “I didn’t steal them. Who’d you steal your’s from?”

“Relax. Don’t get so upset. We were funning with you,” the third boy said. I think he could see that I was still mad so he added, “Look, we’re going to go buy some sweets. Why don’t you join us.”

“I can’t.” was all I said.

“Oh come on, you’ve got to have a few spare coppers you can spend on sweets.”

I thought about it for a few moments. I could have spend a few coins on a treat and Master would never know, but that would have been wrong. I started getting mad again, but this time not at the boys. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t have any money of my own. I almost said yes to his offer, but I caught myself and said, “I don’t have time right now. I’m late for a very important appointment. Maybe next time.”

I stepped around one of the boys and started walking down the street again. I had done the right thing by not stealing Master’s money, but I felt so dirty. I hadn’t lied, but I certainty hadn’t told the truth. They were right, I don’t belong in Maple Grove. I don’t have any money. I didn’t have an appointment with anyone. I’m just a copper-less houseboy out doing the weekly shopping for my master. For the rest of the trip I couldn’t think about anything else. Why would Master send me out to be made fun of? Did he enjoy making me feel bad?

I made it to the market and bought the food I needed to and start for home. I took a different way home and watched ahead to make sure I didn’t meet the boys again. When I reached the tower I was feeling pretty mad at Master. I’m sure there was a scowl on may face. I went in and put the food away, then Master called for me.

“Brian, sit here.” I did as I was told, that’s what good houseboys do. “I heard about what happened to you on the way to the market.” I stopped frowning, trying to remove all emotion from my face. My heart started beating faster. “Let me say that I’m sorry and also that I’m very proud of you.”

I’m sure my eyes got wide with surprised. “But I lied.”

“Those boys didn’t deserve the truth. The important thing is you didn’t give in to their tempting.” Master smiled at me. “Do you have any coins left from you shopping?”

I told him that I did and they they were in the kitchen. He told me to run and get them. I did and I gave him the little pouch. He poured them into his hand.

“One silver piece and seven coppers. I’m going to take this silver piece and put it in this jar here.” He dropped the coin into the jar and it bounced around inside for a second. “This is the beginning of your savings. In ten years when you leave me, whatever is in this jar will be yours to start your new life with. These seven coppers are for you to have now.” He put the coins back into the pouch and handed it to me. I thanked him.

Now I’m writing about it and I’m feeling bad. I was mad a Master. I was resenting how he made me suffer while he has money to spare. Then he apologies and give me some money so that next time I will have money to buy treats. This morning when I started out I didn’t have any idea that my day would turn out the way it did. Maybe Master didn’t either, but I let events turn my day into something bad, while Master took those same things and tuned it into something good. Maybe that’s why he’s the Master.

I don’t know what to write. It feels so silly. Mr. Gees, I mean Master, told me that I have to write in this journal for one hour every day. What an I going to write about for an hour? I don’t think I know that many words.

He said to write what every came into my head. I don’t feel anything coming in. He said to write about my day, my dreams, or my past. My day is pretty boring, I just clean up the tower and cook meals. I’m not sure what my dreams are. Maybe that an hour will have past and I can go to bed. And I don’t really have much past, Im only eleven years old.

One thing did happen today. Master’s old student came by. Her name is Annay and she is very beautiful. Master had me make tea for them and bring some biscuits, too. When Master told her that my name is Brian, she told me, “Brian is a good name; it means noble, strong, and virtuous. Are you named after your father?”

I didn’t answer her and I fought to not cry. I don’t think she noticed – she started talking with Master again. I haven’t felt like crying for a long time. I miss you dad.

I should have told her I was named for where I was born. I wonder if she knows that Brian also means hill. I was born as my mom and dad were traveling between White Water and Maple Grove. My my mom told me that I was two weeks early and that I just wanted to see the great plains from the top of the hills before we headed up into the mountains.

Mom says that I wouldn’t stop crying until my dad held me up and showed me the orange clouds over the green plains as the sun set. She says that I watched the sky darken and the stars come out, and was as happy as could be. So she named me Brian.

My dad’s name was Islwyn which means “Below the Grove.” Mom said that he got that name because it was his father’s name, and his father got it because his family lived in a little house down by the river below Maple Grove.

It’s funny, in kind of a sad way, that that’s where my dad died. He was fishing in the river, down below town.  He had just hooked a large fish and was trying to get it to shore when he slipped and hit his head. His friends tried to help him, but the water carried him away so fast. When they finally got to him and pulled him out it was too late. I remember that brought us the fish he had caught that day, and some extras because he had never caught that many before in one day.

Why am I writing this? Do I want to remember these things? I don’t think I wanted to remember, because I don’t like crying, but maybe this is a way to remember without crying. It feels good to write about my dad, even if it makes me a little sad.

What else should I write about? I’ve got another fifteen minutes. Who am I? My name is Brian, which I already wrote about. I’m eleven years old. My mom arranged for me to work and learn from Mr. Gees for the next ten years. Now I get to call him Master. I’ve been here ten days.

The bed is nice and I get to eat at every meal. The tower is still cold, but not as cold as my old room. I sweep the floors, which is easer because they’re made of stone instead of dirt, cook the meals, wash the dishes and clothes. Starting today I’ll be writing in this journal for an hour every night.

I wonder what life will be like for the next ten years. What skill is Master going to teach me, besides how to write in a journal? I wish I could be a wizard like him, but I don’t think I have the gift. Maybe he’ll teach me how to make pots or bind books.

I’m getting tired and It’s almost been an hour. Does time go slower or faster if you keep looking at the clock? The first half an hour seemed to go fast, but then the minutes have been dragging. Maybe if I stop looking, it will be over. Maybe I’ll just stop five minutes early. No one will know but me, but then maybe it’s important since it is me – to know that I can stick to it and finish it even when no one else will know.

I wonder if that is part of the lesson that I’m supposed to be learning. How to be accountable to myself. Maybe not, maybe the lesson is just to learn how to write.

Well I’ll see what tomorrow brings. I wonder if it will be easer or harder to write for an hour. I’m guessing harder since I said so much today.

One more minute. Just long enough to close and look forward to tomorrow. More dishes and cooking and sweeping, but I do get to go to the market. That might be fun.

Good night journal.

Good night mom

Good night dad.