The gray molded sword finished its flourish just as the plastic-mailed boy concluded his grunting speech, “…come what may!” His high pure voice reached desperately for the roots of a manly growl. The little knight stood posed heroically at the edge of the back porch.
“Come what may?” His grandfather queried. “Not come what may, my boy. It’s “‘Till He Comes!”
The little knight seemed to melt in the cool bright air. The 3D printed pauldrons exaggerated his shrug. His mumble could not hide the weeping edge of his heart. Any correction hit home these days. “I’m just pretending, Pop.”
”You are and you’re not. I love you. I love your armor and I’m glad you’re out here in full battle array.” The grandfather’s voice swept low and kind to carry the boy. “Come here.” He whispered.
The boy shuffled over, half-heartedly tugging at his armor’s straps. He looked tentatively up at his grandfather sitting in his favorite outdoor chair. On the table next to him was a cold half drunk mug of coffee and a box of tissues.
The grandfather looked over his reading glasses. “Shaun, you are trying out your courage. That part is not pretend. You do need courage. So it’s not ‘come what may!’ It’s “‘Till He comes!”
The boy looked up, using his knight’s visor to shade against the sun. He tried in vain to spot the local drone. The spotter would sync with Pop’s sound. All the devices listened and all the drones watched. Would “they” come and visit again?
The grandfather knew what was behind that look. “Oh, Shaun. Don’t be afraid of who’s listening. I know the man listening. He doesn’t sleep well. He needs to hear the good news.”
Shaun looked sharply and incredulously at his Pop. “You really know him?”
“Yes! His name is Winston. Winston Smith.”
Shaun looked even more disbelieving. Pop’s smile seemed out of place and wrong.
“It’s true. I met him one time”
”Where?!” Shaun yelled, feeling angry but not knowing why.
His grandfather put a hand on his shoulder to calm and comfort. Leaning in he said, “I met him in a book.” With a wink he sat back and sighed. “Way back in 1984.”
The wind whipped the leaves in time with birdsong.
“So” Pop continued, “It’s ‘‘Till He Comes.’ That’s our courage, Shaun. I know you miss your daddy. I miss my son. Our courage…” Here, his voice broke with a sound that grandfathers rarely make around little boys.
Shaun knew what to do. They had done this many times before. He plucked a tissue from the box and gave it to Pop. Pop plucked one and gave it to him. Shaun leaned heavily on Pop’s knee.
They let the wind song play for a bit.
They both got up and walked through the back door, stopping at the rug. The grandfather turned around to point outside.
”Our courage…” Pop began again “Is that on our horizon is either the sun rise or the Risen Son. Either way, Christ is King. When He comes, Your dad will be with Him and so will I.”
Shaun looked up. “And so will I.”
Pop looked down, eyebrows raised.
“I believe that Jesus is the Risen Christ, the Son of the Living God.”
The grandfather put an arm around the boy’s shoulder in a hug. ”Welcome to Zion, Shaun.”
“Don’t I have to get baptized?”
“Well, yes.” The grandfather pointed down. “When you come home you do take off your shoes.”
