Heiser-The-Facade - Sparkling Eyes

Brian wistfully recalled the day he had told his parents he planned to attendcollege to study ancient history. Explanations of his aspirations to become a collegeprofessor and to travel through the Mediterranean fell on deaf ears. He was soft and lazy,his father had retorted angrily; and was abandoning the family. His mother openlylamented that throwing away the opportunity to walk into a profitable business was proofthat her son hadn't an ounce of common sense. Of course, by the time of thatconversation, he'd become accustomed to being misunderstood, and even ignored. He'dlacked the good looks and the drive to inebriate himself on a weekly basis, the twoprerequisites for acceptance in the right cliques in high school, and managed to graduatewithout going on a single date. Even the kids who liked him thought he was odd. Theywere going to be doctors and lawyers; he was bent on wasting his education onsomething that wouldn't earn him an income worth bragging about. None of this hadmattered to him, save for the confrontation with his parents. Deep down, they were theonly people whose opinion ever really mattered.His performance in high school and the obligatory entrance exams earned himacceptance to his first choice among colleges, Johns Hopkins University. Predictably, theaccomplishment elicited no excitement from his parents. In fact, the only thing thatgenerated any response at all during his undergraduate years was the news that he'd"gotten religious " and was attending a Presbyterian church. His parents were staunchCatholics, and treated his departure from that fold as further evidence of either hisrebellious attitude or incurable "book smart, life dumb " disposition. They were quick toerroneously conclude that he wanted no part of the family heritage, and now sought tojudge them. The punishment meted out was an emotional apathy to-ward him. Theynever said it outright, but the message was clear that he was no longer welcome. Hedrowned his loneliness in study. Were it not for the camaraderie of a professor at theuniversity he eventually met at an inter-faith forum, his college career would havetranspired in near total isolation.Brian turned off the water and leaned with both hands against the wall of theshower. Watching the steamy mist dissipate and the water drip from his nose, hepondered the irony that it had been his faith that had slowly built the bridge back to hisparents. The thing that had driven the deepest wedge between them eventually served tosuture old wounds. He'd striven at every turn to honor them, maintaining contact withthem through cards, letters, and phone calls, even though the initiative was neverreciprocated. He solicited their input on important decisions, kept them abreast of hisprogress, and pre-tended that they were still a real part of his life. The first hint of changehad come when he graduated third in his class from Johns Hopkins, an achievement thatresulted in a full fellowship to do his graduate work at the prestigious Oriental Institute atthe University of Chicago. The honor, dutifully noted in his hometown's local paper,prompted the only phone call from home that Brian received during college. The briefacknowledgment of what he had accomplished made him work even harder, turning hisdevotion to his studies into near obsession. He would make them proud after all. Hecould hardly contain his excitement when the day his degree would be conferred came.His parents had promised to be there. He smiled at the memory. Tragically, the only timehe saw them was after the ceremony they'd missed was long over, when he was called tothe city morgue to identify their bodies.What followed in the next year was nearly as unimaginable. Shortly after burying18