Josiah tied the shoelaces of his worn hiking shoes. They weren’t as good as boots, but they’d do in this weather. He had the news on again. It seemed to be nothing but death and violence and crime. A story about a child-molesting priest came on and he stormed from the room. A priest. A man of God. But why should anyone be surprised? A man of God was still a man. And he could personally attest to the hypocrisy of a few religious figures—his father first and foremost.
Every night I say a prayer, in the hopes that there’s a Heaven.
But every day I’m more confused, as the saints turn in to sinners.
All the heroes and legends I knew as a child, have fallen to idols of clay.
And I feel this empty place inside, so afraid, that I've lost my faith.
His father liked to think he was the holiest man alive, but he was an angry, small, violent man who took out his frustrations on those weaker than himself. Sometimes it was with words, the way he castigated his congregations for their sins. Sometimes it was with fists, in the way he beat Josiah, Hannah, and their mother whenever he lost his temper or felt his precious authority threatened.
Hannah. Where was she now? Josiah was certain she was still in Denver. But where? He’d searched everywhere.
Show me the way.
Show me the way.
Take me tonight, to the river and wash my illusions away.
Please show me the way.
It was his fault. He never should have left her behind. Josiah was in such a hurry to leave home and his father’s abuse that he just took off the moment he turned eighteen. He should’ve waited for her. Whatever happened to her afterwards was partly his fault. Was she cold, hungry, alone, frightened…dead? No! No! He couldn’t think like that! He had to believe she was alive.
As I slowly drift to sleep, for a moment, dreams are sacred.
Close my eyes, and know there's peace,
in a world so filled with hatred.
Josiah turned off the TV as another murder story came on. He threw the remote against the wall, breaking it into several pieces. Hannah. Was she going to end up just another news blurb one day?
That I wake up each morning, and turn on the news, and find we've so far to go.
And I keep on hoping for a sign, so afraid, I just won't know.
After several years he’d finally gone back for her, but she was gone. Father was glad she’d disappeared. He said she was a harlot and deserved whatever judgment God would rain down upon her blackened soul.
Josiah knew then that he was truly capable of murder. He wasn't quite sure what kept him from it that night. Maybe it was his own guilt. As he slammed that old man against the wall again and again, he’d shouted that Jesus forgave the Magdalene, surely Pastor Sanchez didn’t know better than Christ?
But Father knew how to cut with words so well. He pointed a finger at Josiah and asked him why, if he was so concerned about Hannah, had he only come asking about her years later when she was surely lost? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Show me the way.
Show me the way.
Bring me tonight, to the mountain and take my confusion away.
And show me the way.
He was right. Josiah had run out of the house that night knowing he’d discarded her as easily as his father had. And now he was serving his penance. His life was dedicated to finding her, saving her. He would find her. Josiah went every night to the hospitals, morgues, shelters, centers, rehab. places, and social service agencies looking. Then the next night he would canvas more agencies in a different part of the city. Every night the same. Over and over again. He’d become a regular visitor to where the poor, desperate, and downtrodden ended up. They all knew him now, in those places. Before he even asked the question, “Have you seen this woman?”, he knew what the answer was going to be. He could see the regret and sympathy in their eyes. It cut at his heart and soul every time.
Was she out there waiting for him, wondering if he still cared about her?
And if I see your light, should I believe?
Tell me, how will I know?
Josiah had quit his job as a profiler with the police department because he couldn’t do his job and still look for her like he needed to. He still had money in savings and took odd jobs when he was strapped for cash, but he couldn’t go back to his life until he’d saved hers somehow. He prayed for miracles, signs, anything, hoping that his father was wrong and that God hadn’t abandoned them.
Show me the way
Show me the way
Take me tonight to river and wash my illusions away
Show me the way
Show me the way
Give me the strength and the courage to believe I will get there someday
And please show me the way
Josiah shrugged on his coat and headed out. He pulled up the collar to keep out the sharp wind as he hunched down into the thick material. Maybe he would get a lead tonight. Just please let it not be to the morgue. Let her be safe, God. Let me find her safe.
Every night I say a prayer in hopes that there’s a Heaven
The End
Show Me the Way
Show me the way.
As I slowly drift to sleep, for a moment, dreams are sacred.
Show me the way.
And if I see your light, should I believe?
Show me the way
Every night I say a prayer in hopes that there’s a Heaven
--Styx
Every night I say a prayer, in the hopes that there’s a Heaven.
But every day I’m more confused, as the saints turn in to sinners.
All the heroes and legends I knew as a child, have fallen to idols of clay.
And I feel this empty place inside, so afraid, that I've lost my faith.
Show me the way.
Take me tonight, to the river and wash my illusions away.
Please show me the way.
Close my eyes, and know there's peace,
in a world so filled with hatred.
That I wake up each morning, and turn on the news, and find we've so far to go.
And I keep on hoping for a sign, so afraid, I just won't know.
Show me the way.
Bring me tonight, to the mountain and take my confusion away.
And show me the way.
Tell me, how will I know?
Show me the way
Take me tonight to river and wash my illusions away
Show me the way
Show me the way
Give me the strength and the courage to believe I will get there someday
And please show me the way