The Box in the Corner: A Confrontation with the Truth

By David Sadring

Rex and Amy lived a peaceful, God-fearing life in the little town of Elk Valley, raising their two children to be moral, upright citizens in a world on the verge of war. Elk Valley was an idyllic place, far from the violence of big cities and troubled politics. Yet, even in the quietest of worlds, war can bloom. One morning, Rex awoke with a strange sense of forebodingsomething was not right in his peaceful world.

That fateful day, bombs fell on Elk Valley, as a New World Order brought chaos to planet Earth. Rex lost more than his home; he lost his wife, his daughter, and his son in the devastating blast. Suddenly, Rexs world and the world of the humanity were in uproar as an apocalypse descended with hefty consequence. Rebuilding was necessary to survive, but how could Rex rebuild when everything he loved was so completely lost to him?

It would take a miracle to bring Rex back from the brink, yet his faith grounded him in the world of the living. His prayers brought light to the darkness, and God was there to show him the necessary path back to life. Rexs response to personal tragedy shapes the leader he is destined to become. Through respect, honor, and compassion, Rex finds purpose, and a divine visitor gives him the ultimate strength to carry on in a world drowning in malevolence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450288545

David Sadring

David Sadring grew up in Portland, Oregon, where he spent much of his youth surfing the Oregon coast, hiking deer trails, taking pictures of nature, and communing with God.

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Table of Contents

Introduction: Fiction or reality

CHAPTER ONE In the beginning: Rex’s town – the way it used to be

CHAPTER TWO Trust and faith: The test of Rex’s faith in God

CHAPTER THREE The day the sky fell down: Rex’s world gets torn apart

CHAPTER FOUR The aftermath: A time to reaffirm, a time to heal

CHAPTER FIVE For everything there is a reason: The start of the end

CHAPTER SIX words in the night: Listen, for it might be God

CHAPTER SEVEN The Box: Wisdom or torture

CHAPTER EIGHT The vision: Dealing with mans back pages

CHAPTER NINE Tattered grace: The people we meet

CHAPTER TEN The request: A walk with Jesus

CHAPTER ELEVEN Breaking bread: A step forward

CHAPTER TWELVE A time to dream: Of change for the future

CHAPTER THIRTEEN A fond farewell: The never-ending connection

CHAPTER FOURTEEN For every thing there is a season: A time for renewal

CHAPTER FIFTEEN From death comes life: Elk Valley has been reborn from the ashes

Living in prayer: The place of peace and of hope

AN ALTERNATE ENDING: If life had a different ending

NOTES

Introduction: Fiction or reality

In the act of war, any war that has been contrived by man, it is always the children that suffer; no deeper thought needs to come our way; for we are all, the children of God. And in the loathsome stresses of any war, at home or far away in unseen distant lands, every one of Gods children, we all suffer from the deep cuts of mans destructive ways. Ask the victims of 9/11, or any of the wars prior, they will tell you of the truth in such a statement.

In the darkness of anyone or of the many pending battle’s ahead of the weary soldier, before the first rifles report, before the first missiles release, the soldier prays; for peace, or, for salvation from what he is about to do in the actions of man. At the time that the armies’ soldiers depart in weighty and undeniable fear for the battlefield, the innocent child cries in honest sorrow as his father or mother head off into the murk of wars abyss and uncertainty, the death filled darkened shadows of the unknown future of mans wrath.

The vision of the mother, as she sits in silent despair, as her son or her daughter, or her husband boards a ship or transport that is destined for the front line of war, grieving for the future of her family that every soldier leaves behind. The father of the son or of the daughter, or, of the grandchild, they all look to the heavens for peace and to bring their loved ones back once more to their open arms safe and sound, unharmed from mans path of destruction. Not so much in truth that Prayer is the last resort in the act of war, but rare is it the first in mans quest for control of a world not his own, as the emotions of anger and dissention hang in solemn angst at life’s front door.

In the many wars of man, there has always been an inevitable rebuilding, the renewing of lives and of the towns that they called home. In the aftermath of war, there have been more prayers, more tears, and more broken hearts; more sadness as man reaches for the hand of God. Will we ever see the day, when all of humanity, will see that life should be the first resort before the first bullet enters the flesh of another human being before war is declared. Will we ever see a time when we will pray for the everlasting peace in life, rather than the other side of life’s coin, the strength to live and survive while we set the sights on our rifles to kill yet another human being, another soul?

Over the country mile to the abyss of the masses, the many miles of land that is home to all of the small or large countries that reside on the continents upon this globe. Over the deepest of oceans that separate the expansive landmasses, they have all seen the aftermath of war, the forgotten landing strips and the leftover rusty skeletons of equipment no longer needed. Through the histories of this world that we call earth, war has been a constant state of life. From all of the missiles and bombs and forgotten land mines; this earth that we call Mother, has seen the ugliness of mans war’s. Through the ages man has filled this earth with blood, with tears, and with forgotten souls; and in this day of technology, of computer genius, man is still at war with man, the profound question should be; with whom else, if not himself?

Man is still the primitive species, feeding off the anger of others, this earths inhabitants believe in the falsehoods of misplaced governments, lacking religions and false gods, but refuse to see the truths of God himself, a caring God first and foremost, for whom wants his love and peace to fill our lives. Is this not the lofty society that cares little for the truths of life?

God’s soul wish is for man to be free, free to create in a world of peace. Is it in our arrogance that we see through the eyes of anger and frustration in our sighted blindness?

If so, it is well past our time to take pause in our lives, to sit in silent thought, to pray that our next step in this life will be the first on a long path towards global peace, not a global tyranny. Oh what a thought, if man, all of man, is to be the intelligent of all species would chose to do so. It is time for the healing of this world to begin.

Before we, the wayward children of God reach out into our creator’s universe; only to contaminate another.

CHAPTER ONE In the beginning: Rex’s town – the way it used to be

I would watch Rex sit out there on that knoll for hours, when the reason for his sitting out there was finished, be it a long talk with God, or taking time to just to think of the day at hand, he would stand and head back to his home. He would come past me, his eyes all watery, and his tones at times gruff, and at times they were tones of sadness, but nevertheless, they were always honest and true.

I asked him one day as he walked past me on his way to his front door, Why do you sit out there if your allergies get you so upset? Rex stopped for only a brief moment and stood before me, without contempt or disregard, Rex did not look me in the eyes at first; he stopped and took a deep breath as he looked out at the distance and then into the sky, he always looked up at the sky like a long lost friend. Then he trained his eyes on me. Its conflict, it’s that damndable conflict, why does everything in this world have to wrap itself around conflict? Rex patted me on the shoulder then gave it a tiny shake and he walked away with a sniffle, with some words still being spoken, maybe someday, we will all grow up, huh, take care Pard. Rex turned and walked into his home.

It saddens me at times to see Rex and others go through what Rex is going through, as a father, but it wasn’t always that way, life has always been better before, and will be again, that is the path of life, the river always flows that way.

Would you like to hear how Rex came to sit out on that knoll everyday, with watery eyes? Well, take a seat, here take a sip of water, don’t worry I have plenty, more than enough to get through the account of Rex and his family, ah, it will work out good for him, he is a good man beyond the gruff exterior, and a good son.

It is as though, in this little valley, at one time before mans life took a drastic change, that time had stood still in the dense forest of the Northwest. God’s country, as many of those that have and still do live here have called the lands from the mighty Columbia River to the north and to the south where the Rouge River flows free to the sea. From the Snake River to the east to the rugged Pacific on the western edge where the land falls with its ragged beauty into the ocean.

A small town, with its people coexisting in peace the way that life should be, helping one another with gladness, with the bottom line being life, for in Elk Valley, life was never a burden. As their ancestor’s lived, living in conformation of God’s word, not the word of man. A town of forgotten values in the rest of the country, in this small country town; where hope, freedom and life sprang eternal.

Rex grew up in this beautiful little country town, a slice of America where Rex and his friends would lie out under the star filled skies at night for hours with their youthful eyes gazing over the gateway to the universe in search for falling stars, star formations of Greek gods, animals and Sputnik’s, or maybe wishing that someday they too would walk on the moon.

The town of Elk Valley sat nestled amongst tall pines that without much effort reach towards the heavens for their own blessings of God. In the lowlands stood beautiful moss covered oaks and maples that gave the golden fall seasons of the valley its warm beautiful autumn colors of reds and ambers.

The areas forest were always thick and lush, even a passerby on one of the highways in the area couldn’t ever tell if the forest had ever been harvested by one of the many loggers in the area; though it had been harvested and many times over through the years. Logging had always been the means of an income for the inhabitants of the area; the residents of the Elk Valley relied on the forest for their livelihood. And those that lived there knew how to care for the forest, and still get revenue from their harvest without depletion of its natural resources; the forest sustained their lives for more decades than those that lived in the area had been alive.

Rex worked as a mechanic with the help of a couple of other mechanics; he was kept busy in his own business of repairing the log skidders and graders that were used out in the forest, amongst all of the other equipment that the logging companies in the area use, right down to the chainsaws.

The days were long and it was hard work; but Rex knew that hard work was worthy of life, therefore Rex enjoyed what he did to earn his living. It was not toil or drudgery to him, to Rex, working was a way of life, and he did it with honesty. That is why his customers of many years trusted him with all their expensive equipment; and why they kept coming back to his shop for their needed repairs.

While in his late twenties, Rex met the love of his life; her name was Amy, a beautiful young lady with soft skin and brunette hair. Amy had a smile that made Rex melt and all the while, she was filled to the brim with country charm. Her name, as with her beauty and her humbleness made Rex feel alive, little did Rex know that Amy would become in his life what her name means, Beloved, and that is what she came to be for Rex, his beloved Amy.

Rex’s smiles became more prevalent whenever she would come around the shop or the chance meeting in town, Rex always felt a slight quiver right below the ribcage above his stomach whenever they met or said goodbye. Amy had a way of touching Rex in a way that no other woman in his life ever touched him, deep to his soul.

They met at a town gathering, around Elk Valley, it was inevitable, there was always a town gathering in Elk Valley, even in the dead of winter when the snows of the area lined the towns’ streets with icy slush as the tires of pick-ups trucks and tractor trailer rigs made their way through town with their tall tires sending the slush to the curb to be frozen in the cold of the nights hours ahead.

Rex was giving his time as he always had for the town that he loved and its residents; the community meant something to Rex, something more than earning a dollar from the town’s people that graced his shop. And every chance Rex had to show his support for his town, he would take that chance to heart, he showed his gratitude to the town with his volunteering for whatever the people in the town needed, an event or just to help someone that needed a helpful hand.

Rex was lending his time to one of the events that was opened to the youth. He watched over the time-honored events like potato sack races, egg tossing, and when he was not watching over those events, he would sit in as a lifeguard at the local swimming pool.

In his younger days, Rex was an attractive man to all the young girls of the area with his tan skin, outspread shoulders and washboard abs, they liked it when Rex was