The man builds his wall.
Brick by Brick by Brick…
Brick by brick by brick the man built the wall. With raw, blistered hands he unloaded the massive bricks from the truck. He slapped on mortar and piled bricks higher and higher. He never asked for help; he wouldn't. Help was never forthcoming; he had learned that as a child.
"Not now, son," Father would say and turn up the music to drown out the boy’s pleas.
"I'm busy, boy!" Mother would brush back a wisp of her hair with floured hand and shoo the boy away. Later, she would give him a warm ginger cookie on her way to something else more important than him.
So, the boy became the man who searched for love, for acceptance. The man prayed for someone who would understand his quirky nature and love him for who he was. His search always dead-ended in blind alleys.
With the help of no one, the man had hitched up his pants, thrown back his shoulders, and hunkered down building his wall, brick by brick by brick. His wall got so tall that no one could ever reach him.
Once the wall was finished, the man stood back to admire his work. His heart swelled with pride at his accomplishment. For the first time, he felt worthy. He felt safe. He felt loved.
I don’t need anyone. I DON’T NEED ANYONE.
He half-smiled, then let out a deep, ragged sigh as he leaned against his wall and waited for...nothing.
The lilting voice woke him.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
He looked up to see a lovely woman peeking over his wall.
“May I come down?” she said.
“Yes, you may,” he said, “Let me help you.”
A tear ran down his cheek as he hurried up the ladder.
Thank you, Lord.