Willing(Henry Vinicio Valerio Madriz) When Christopher was born, family and friends had their reservations and opinions… most of them were negative or expressed discouragement.

Wonderful beings are not understood sometimes. Christopher’s beauty came to his mind as an abstract art masterpiece; therefore, not everybody was able to see it. Nonetheless, something about him was a fact: everybody loved Christopher. Humans love beauty and good even though sometimes they misunderstand their meaning or essence.

Christopher’s sweetness conquered every heart, especially John’s, who always took very good care of his baby brother. Christopher’s world was happy and complete when he held John’s hand. And John knew it. It was a thing only siblings could comprehend. John used to take his baby brother everywhere to activate Christopher’s mind (that was what the doctors asseverated was going to save Christopher’s mind). Their favorite activity was to wander to find a person who needed a big hug. Then Christopher worked his magic. One of his long hugs and that individual was miraculously recovered. Everyone won!

But good moments and good people don’t last. Young John died during his fourth tour in a war he didn’t ask for (“War makes mortal enemies of people who’ve never met because of people who’ve met but have never gone to war.”). Christopher’s life was missing its best soldier to fight his battles with, shoulder to shoulder. But Christopher remembered…

No more walks around the neighborhood. It was a dangerous hobby for a retard (that was what most people thought). Nevertheless, Christopher remembered and was willing to keep enjoying life no matter what (that’s life’s sole purpose: to enjoy it!). He was told John had gone… He remembered his guide to life and started looking for him, his brother. Every time his parents took Christopher somewhere, he used to run away looking for his partner of adventure; sadly, John was never there, but Christopher always found someone to hug, instead.

One day, a day like any other day, at home, Christopher felt something different, a call. He went to a window in the living room and observed the street, a street like any other street. Nothing just the call. Finally, he saw his brother, John’s image on a front door. Brotherhood must be the bridge to unite mankind. Christopher managed to open the door of his own house and left home looking for his playful mate. John wasn’t there anymore. So, Christopher knocked on the door; he knocked again and again.

An old woman opened the door. “How may I help you, sweetheart?”

Christopher stepped back. It was not John. He was about to leave when he remembered. The lady looked sad, with deep nostalgia (sadness and nostalgia can be considered mental diseases in modern times, they might be called chronic stress or depression).

“Come”, he said and gave her a sweet and everlasting hug, the kind of hug that warms every fiber of the body and soul. “Goodbye”, Christopher said after concluding his unexpected mission. His magic worked one more time (magic existed when it’s received with an open mind and wide-open arms).

The woman was surprised but expecting it somehow. She closed the door gently smiled and then began sobbing. She immediately went inside and sat at the kitchen table. After thinking of and recalling everything for one minute, she stared at the phone. There was a morning sun in her eyes.

“It was a sign! I am sure of that… The phone! No, not the phone… a phone call unites people throughout distances and time but sometimes it can be felt as cold communication, nothing compares to face-to-face communication. Besides, I have much to say. I’m leaving right away”, the old lady said firmly.

She got out of her house, walked a couple of blocks, stopped in front of an apartment building, and got inside. The old woman was about to knock on the door when she heard the end of a violent conversation going on.

“You are a good-for-nothing!”, the lady’s daughter told her son and slapped him.

“Mom, you have no right to…”, the child yelled.

“I don’t?”, his mother interrupted.

The young woman got mad and forgot that a mother should protect her children rather than hurt them. She was about to hit him with the first thing at hand, a lamp, a heavy lamp that would have killed the boy when his grandmother rang the bell.

“Mom, somebody is at the door”, the child cried.

“Saved by the bell, you know…”, the young woman added, put the lamp back to its place (where it accomplishes its purpose and nature: to light a family’s steps), and opened the door.

“What’s going on here?”, the old lady asked as a greeting.

“IT’S YOU! ALWAYS YOU! Mother, it’s NONE of your business!”

“Granny, HELP ME! Ma’s gone crazy these days”, the boy shouted desperately. “I don’t know what’s her problem”, he continued. His spirit was wrinkled.

“Granny is here, darling, don’t you worry”, the old woman replied.

“What are you doing here anyway? I TOLD YOU to stay away from us, from my life”, the daughter reminded the old woman.

“I came to share something… a sign from God”, the old woman said sotto voce. Then she took control of herself and added: “I don’t care, anymore, about what you do to yourself with all your… sick relationships but don’t you dare to touch my grandson”.

The young woman approached, too much, too fast, like a challenging hurricane. The old lady thought her daughter was about to hit her, so the woman slapped her daughter first.

“Listen up, we definitely need to calm down and talk”, the old woman ordered. A parent must show who is in command, something that new generations should understand.

The young woman froze. Truth has that effect sometimes.

“What’s really going on with you. I know you, I’m your mother! And I know you love your son more than anything else. So, tell me…”

The young mother reacted calmly: “You are right. It’s just… Robert dumped me”.

“Who is Robert?”

“Mom’s new boyfriend… Grandma, I am happy he left. He was not a good person.”

“Listen to your own son, he already knows about your unhealthy lifestyle.”

Both women went to the kitchen to prepare some coffee and chat. The boy went to his bedroom, he realized it wasn’t his conversation. There are times to only listen to, there are times to talk, there are times to be part of a conversation, and there are times to leave some room for a conversation. Curiously, he received a phone call in his room.

“Ma, you were saying something about a sign from God, what did you mean? Is God talking to you now?”

Both women were sincerely talking. That was the perfect beginning. Conversing amicably cleans one’s soul.

“To be sincere, He did. Moreover, God always works in mysterious ways…”

“Huh?”

“I lost your father long ago. Then I lost you, well, you didn’t want me to be in…”

“I know. And now I know I was wrong. I’m sorry, mom. I do now, I want you in my life.”

“Thank you, darling. Going back to your question… I was feeling lonely, the way you were feeling today, desperate! I had nobody… then I thought there was nothing to live for. Consequently, I was… I was about to commit suicide. I couldn’t take it any longer.”

“Mom!”

“However, God had a different plan for me and sent an angel directly to my front door."

"He did?"

"I was inside the bathtub with a knife above my right wrist when someone knocked on my door. I waited a minute. And THE CALL again. I had no choice but to open the door.”

“Who was it? God?!”, the young woman asked her mom with dramatic interest.

“No, one of his angels”, the old lady affirmed.

Both kept silent.

“It was a beautiful young boy who wanted to hug me, for no reason. Just like that!”

“Really?”

“What I was needing… to save me. And he saved me.”

“Where did he come from?”

“It didn’t matter, what mattered was he was there to save me, as I explained.”

Nothing else was added, nothing else needed to be expressed.

“Mom, granny, sorry to interrupt you, can I go to Brunhilde’s birthday party?”, the youngster asked for permission.

“I told you: I don’t have any money for her birthday gift.”

“That was the reason you were arguing when I came, right?”, the old woman interrupted.

Daughter and son kept silent.

“Anyway, here, have some money to buy her something cute”, the grandmother continued.

“Mom, may I?”, the child asked for his mother’s permission again. “Granny can stay with you, right granny? I won’t stay there late.”

Grandmother and grandson looked at the young mother.

“All right, all right.”

The boy went back to his bedroom, dressed up, went back to the kitchen, kissed both women, left his house, went to the Chinese store to buy something nice, and finally went to the birthday party. He was a bit late.

“Hi, Noah! Thanks for coming”, Brunhilde’s mother said with a German accent.

“Hello, Mrs. Müller”, the boy greeted.

“Come in. Brunhilde must be around. Go and find her so you can give her your gift.”

Noah walked around with no results. He asked a couple of kids where Brunhilde was. They suspected she was either in the restroom or her bedroom. Noah went upstairs. He heard Brunhilde crying in her room. He knocked on the door. Nothing happened. “Brun, it’s me, Noah.”

“Noah? Is that you? I thought you were not coming”, Brunhilde said while wiping away her tears. She opened the door and took Noah’s right hand. “Come in. Stay with me.”

“Hey! Here you have”, Noah gave Brunhilde her birthday gift. “May I ask you why you were crying? It’s your birthday party, anyway…”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you…”, she said.

“Try me!”, Noah challenged.

Both children sat on Brunhilde’s bed.

“It’s hard to say…”

Noah kept silent.

“My father, my father… touched my private parts just before you arrived, when I was in my restroom”, the young girl explained.

She continued talking. “He told me he’d kill me, and my mom, if I say something.”

Noah got angry, after all, he was Brunhilde’s boyfriend. He thought about it and got up. “Brun, I know exactly what to do, my granny has already explained things.” Noah opened her room door and Brunhilde’s father was standing there.

“Hi, Noah”, the man said. The man knew exactly what was happening since he heard everything. Their conversation was an earthquake in his mind.

Noah responded nothing, walked a little more, and said: “I know what you did… and I AM telling everybody.” Noah ran downstairs, and Brunhilde’s father followed the brave boy.

Boy and man were in the living room where everybody was looking for Brunhilde in order to sing the birthday song and eat the birthday cake.

“Mr. Müller touched Brunhilde’s private parts”, Noah said while he was pointing at the girl’s dad.

All guests looked at Mr. Müller. He was shocked, nothing in his mind, he ran away…

The man kept running for a while. He noticed nobody was after him. He stopped. He was in front of a church. Mr. Müller walked to the church not because he was a believer but to hide from the police. He knocked on the church door and it opened by itself. Mr. Müller walked inside. He sat on a pew. “What should I do? What should I do?”

A beautiful woman in white, who Mr. Müller didn’t see coming, had approached. The lady told him: “Son, if you don’t know what to do, then ask our Heavenly Father for wisdom and forgiveness.”

“Jesus! You scared me…”, the running-away man exclaimed. He realized he hadn’t said the word “Jesus” for a very long time. Then he looked at a large cross, he looked at the lady again, but she had disappeared.

Mr. Müller didn’t know what to do… he just felt safe. After a moment, he stared at the great cross, and he thought it was a good idea to talk to God. He was able to hear police sirens sounding off in the background.

“Listen, you know I am an atheist… I’m not even sure if you exist. Anyway, Lord, if You are there, listening, somewhere, somehow, I want to tell You I really don’t know why I did it. Believe me, PLEASE! Well, I guess, you know it all. You know it was the first time… I’ve done such a thing… Oh, God! My own daughter! What kind of monster have I become? I used to be a wonderful husband and father, now…” Mr. Müller thought in deeper reflection. “I believe it’s all porn videos I’m watching these days, it’s confused my mind… and moral values. He recalled the lady in white’s words, Father, forgive me because I have sinned. Lord, can you stop hiding there and enter my heart? I want that with all my heart.”

“Hey, you, inside the church. Come out with your hands up”, a police officer ordered firmly (some neighbors had seen Mr. Müller when he entered the church).

“Oh my God!”, Mr. Müller exclaimed. He reflected on that expression, and added decidedly: “Lord, now I’m certain of what I should do, please, be always my guide.” Then he came out.

He was arrested, sentenced, and put in jail.

“Hey, Little Hank, in the mood for company?”, the prison guard said. He continued talking: “You may think he’s young, a kid, but be careful, he’s a murderer.”

The guard opened the cell door and added: “Hey, fellows, I want no trouble, understood?”

Both inmates were silent. No words were better than insults or confrontation. They were just lying in their beds.

“Books. Any book?”, another prisoner asked.

“What’s going on?”, Mr. Müller wondered.

“Once in a while he comes to offer some shit to read”, Little Hank said.

“I see…”, Mr. Müller said.

“Do you want a book or not?”, the other convict asked for a second time.

“May I have the Bible?”, Mr. Müller asked.

“A Christian! This is just what I need”, Little Hank said ironically. “Don’t you know God is not on fashion nowadays?”

“I know, that’s why I chose the Holy Book.”

“All right then.”

The bookman left. Mr. Müller started to read. Little Hank thought reading the Bible was absurd, but he felt released because his roommate was not a dangerous individual.

Mr. Müller kept reading his Bible any time he had a chance, in prison, there is plenty of time. Jailbirds at present have so many rights that they are on an endless vacation; it’s not a punishment anymore, it’s just a school for increasing evil.

“Hey, old man… Don’t you get tired of reading that book? That’s all you do. Do you know where you are at? Is that your shield here? Pretending you are a good Christian?”, Little Hank expressed.

“I’m atheist. Well, I was…”

“What the hell?!”

“Hell is the problem… Mr. Müller continued. When the cops arrested me, I was inside a church. I kind of… talked to God, for the first time in a looong time. I must say that felt fine. Listen, like many people in the world, I had EVERYTHING but I felt empty. So, I tried something new to fill that hole. You know, I guess the same way drug addicts experience new substances to feel OK.”

“I know, man, that shit destroys everything, everybody I know is a junkie. I’ve never tried that shit, man. I feel you. I know what you mean.”

From that day on, both, man and boy, shared the Holy Book.

“Harry, take very good care of yourself, I mean it”, Mr. Müller told Little Hank.

“I know, I know… and you, be a good husband and father, never give up with your family, you understand? Go, talk to them, and work things out. They’ll forgive you.” Encouragement is always fresh air to breathe like a newborn.

Mr. Müller left jail. He kept in touch with Harry; he often wrote Harry at the prison. In his last letter, he wrote: “Remember, you can be reborn whenever you want. Always keep the part of a good man that you have. You are about to leave prison, take it as a new beginning.”

After a year, Harry left jail, too. He tried to find a job so he could get some money to study at college (after reading the Bible with Mr. Müller, Harry found reading an increasingly enjoyable pursuit). Nobody supported his dream and project, his new life. Nobody hired an ex-convict. As a result, he took his gun and walked the streets, his only home and income.

One day, a day like any other day, in the streets, Harry saw an old woman at the street market. Her purse seemed to be full. He followed her home. He waited, as predators do. Harry knocked on the door. The old lady opened it.

“This is a holdup! Move”, Little Hank was back and said it without certainty. Something had changed in him.

“Take it easy, young man”, the old woman said.

“Do as I said”, Little Hank ordered in a weak tone.

The old woman was in shock, her life could actually come to an end.

“Somebody is knocking on the door. Are you expecting anybody?”

“No, as far as I know…”, the woman said.

Little Hank forgot to lock the door, so it was easy for Christopher to come in. Little Hank didn’t know what to do when he saw him, especially, when Christopher hugged him.

“It’s you, again! My little guardian angel…”, the old woman exclaimed.

Christopher gave her a big hug and left her house.

Neither the victimizer nor the victim realized Christopher had seen them entering the house before. Christopher felt they needed a hug.

“What was that all about?”, Little Hank asked.

“He is my guardian angel. God sends him every time I’m in danger of death”, the lady explained.

“I’d heard a similar story before, and it almost saved me. Ma’am, would you mind telling me your story? What do you mean by a guardian angel?”, Harry said and was back.

“Of course, sweetheart. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s Costa Rican coffee!”

That was the first of many conversations between Harry and the old lady at her house.

“I’ve found a mother, now I have a family”, Harry told Mr. Müller on the phone. It’s been a month after Harry’s failed robbery attempt.

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