Free From – Chapter 28 – July 28th

I hope you will join me this month as we JOURNEY each day through our short story. It is about finding FREEDOM in the midst of all the captivating pieces in life that steal our peace which we need FREE FROM!

FREE FROM
July 28, 2021

Colossians 3:9-10, 13-14, ‘Don’t lie to one another. You’re done with that old life. It’s like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you’ve stripped off and put in the fire. Now you’re dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom-made by the Creator, with His label on it. All the old fashions are no obsolete.
‘So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.’ (MSG)

Chapter 28

Blayze choked when his dad walked in the door. He spit what he’d just stuck in his mouth everywhere. If Legend’s heart hadn’t risen to his throat, he would have laughed. As it was, had he laughed he would have spewed his heart and everything in it all over his son. Legend realized he had been holding his breath and felt dizzy.
“Dad!” Blayze exclaimed and Legend exhaled, the air leaking out of him like a slow deflation from a balloon. His son had been a boy when he last saw him in the school yard and now in his place stood a man, one taller than himself so he had to look up to him. He had day old stubble, unkempt blond ringlets prettier than most girl’s and an earring in one ear. His board shorts hung low on slender hips and a pair of plaid boxers peeked out. He was shirtless and bronzed from the sun and ocean, and broad-shouldered, and Legend couldn’t quit staring at the hair on his son’s chest. Pulling Blayze into his arms though melted the years like chocolate on a hot day.
Awkwardly, and eventually, Blayze shrugged his dad away, placing distance between them. Legend didn’t miss the glare he tossed his mom’s way. “What are you doing here?” He seemed to be asking Annie more than Legend. “And where’s Breize? Where’s Trace?”
Annie chimed in, “He’s sleeping in the car. Poor kid couldn’t keep his eyes open.” She shrugged, a silent gesture of hers. “Your sister is still in.” Trace had fallen asleep in the car on the way back to Annie’s home after completing the dismissal process. The poor little kid was exhausted and was so nervous it reminded Legend of the tightly wound rubberbands used in making golf balls.
“Serves her right, Mom. I hope you’re going to leave her there for longer than a minute. Either that or carry her happy butt to rehab. Quit letting her control this house. Dad, you agree, don’t you? Maybe you can help Mom stand strong. Trace deserves better than this.” Legend was drinking in every word Blayze spoke as if he’d been lost in the desert and dying of thirst. He was proud of his opinionated and straightlaced boy. Annie had shared with him that Blayze had tried desperately to make up for his sister’s grievances on more than many occasions, had pleaded with her repeatedly to weave herself together, if not for herself than for her little boy. Blayze was Trace’s hero. He idolized him like a kid worships a football star, ‘Blayze this; Blayze that’. He didn’t have any other male figures in his life that were worthy of heroism. Apparently, Breize wasn’t even sure of who Trace’s father was and her selection of goons she ran with certainly weren’t fatherhood material.
“I’m gonna go get him, k?” Legend could see love written all over his son’s face for the little guy. Instead, he stopped him, reaching out for his arm as he turned toward the door. Blayze jerked backward but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry, Dad. What’s up?”
Legend gulped. How do you say what’s been left unsaid for decades in just a two-minute, five-hundred-word conversation? His tongue felt tied in a slipknot, held fast unless you tugged, then it slipped. “Uh, nothing, son. Hey, let’s let him sleep a little bit longer, how ‘bout? And then let’s go get a nice dinner? My treat.” A crimson stain spread across his face, thinking how Annie had suggested they go for dinner, offering money for him to pay as a manner of redemption. She had said then she felt bad, ending up with all their resources, their home, everything, when he went away. It seemed meaningless in light of everything.
Blayze shrugged, a mimic to his mom. “Sure, Dad. That’s fine, but Trace needs more than a Happy Meal. He needs his mother to be a mother, like I needed my parents to be parents, not compete with the neighbors on how much one could acquire over the other.” Ouch. The remark smarted, and Annie and Legend stared at one another with regret.
“Yeah, you didn’t think we noticed or cared, but we did. We didn’t care what you had or didn’t have, where we went or didn’t go, but we sure cared when you chose other loves over us and left us alone holding the bag.” Legend was speechless, an impression so great for his son’s ability to convey right as right, wrong as wrong, and to especially know the difference. He continued, “Yeah, let’s go to dinner, and let’s choose life for Breize, and ultimately Trace, and make a plan that achieves that, how ‘bout?” Nodding, as if in affirmation to himself, he grabbed his shirt off the couch, and pulling it on, he headed toward the door. Annie shrugged and followed.

To Be Continued…