This story is an allegory.
There was once a little boy who was about 7. He was a very cute and chatty boy, who could be quite affectionate when he wanted to be, but mainly preferred not to get all mushy. He would run around and play and draw pictures and write cute superhero stories and just be a light in everyone’s life.
Then one day, he started having turns – i.e., going stiff, and shivering, and becoming temporarily unaware of everything and everyone around him.
At first, his family thought it was epilepsy.
It would occur generally at night, but it didn’t affect him – he was still his opinionated, outgoing, talky self.
When the family took him to see the doctors, the doctors said that it wasn’t epilepsy, but just night terrors.
A while after that, he suddenly started having trouble walking – he would be a bit wobbly on his feet and stumble around.
Then he suddenly lost his ability to talk properly – he could say words like ‘no’, ‘yes’, or ‘I want’, but he had to generally rely on pointing or writing down what he meant to communicate properly. He could read, but suddenly had trouble saying the words.
Then he could barely walk. He lost all muscle control – he had trouble gripping things, walking, etc., and his family had to help him move around. He soon had to just mainly sit around, unable to go anyway very much. He became, understandably, very depressed and angry. That, plus what the boy had, caused a great strain on his family.
Then one day, he met someone.
This someone was a man. This man was very friendly and soon became like a second father to him. The man would sit and play and read stories and was very patient, like the rest of the boy’s family. This man was a light to the boy and to the rest of the boy’s family. They all liked him and enjoyed spending time with him and soon afterwards, it helped not only the boy but also the family cope with it all.
One day, the man was taking the boy out, pushing him in a wheelchair, and they were having fun exploring town when suddenly some people came and viciously attacked the man, beating him. The boy screamed and cried out, trying to tell them to go away, but he couldn’t say the words nor could he move.
He could only watch.
Finally, the people stopped attacking the man and left. The man went over to the boy and gave him a hug. “It’s alright,” the man said. “This happens to me a lot.”
“W…” the boy strained to say the words. “W…why?”
The man gave him a warm smile, tears of affection starting to pool in his eyes. “Because I’m love,” the man replied. “And some people hate love.”
“I…I…” the boy’s mouth moved silently as he tried to figure out a way to say it, “I…w…won’t…ssss-stop…l…loving…y…you…”
The man wrapped him up in a bear hug. “And I you.”
This story came to me after a friend of mine made an innocent remark today how some people for some reason just hate love (my friend and I had been chatting about Olaf in Disney’s Frozen movies, and trying to figure out why some people absolutely hate the snowman).
I have a younger brother (who ISN’T the age in this story) who has this disorder or disease (I’m not sure exactly which one, to be honest) that the boy in this story has, and we’re talking him to see a doctor in a couple days (our time) to find out what’s going on and how best to treat it and such and I’m wondering if you all could pray for my brother and for his complete healing and for God/Yah to lead and guide and direct the doctor’s and show them what’s wrong and how to fix it? And maybe share it with your friends and family and ask them to pray for my brother as well?
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