I expected The Bishop's lips to be set in a thin line - the typical sign when he became angry at transgressions perceived or real.
But his lips were relaxed. His eyes distant, sad.
This concerned me. I moved over to him and tilted my head in query.
"I ran out of giving to those who can't even say 'thank you'," he stated.
He continued, resentment lightly coating his words. "When others required support, or guidance out of the storm and darkness, I put my energy towards their needs. When someone wanted an adventure, I'd take their path so that they would not be alone, even when it wasn't the path I would have chosen."
"I asked for nothing in return but respect and friendship."
"But the times when I asked for them to take my path, their ears turned away deaf. When my soul required comfort, they demanded the more of me, blind to my heartache. When I finally had to ask for friendship, they chose their own whims over me."
This was true, but I offered: "The Lizard would forgive."
He bowed his head. "In this, I look up to her example, but am unable to yet achieve it. She is compassion and grace even when others do her wrong as Stormy did. She simply shines her light on other things."
I nodded, remembering Stormy's dismissal. I had been disgusted at how thoughtlessly she had treated The Lizard.
Looking up at me, tears fell from his eyes. "I've lost so much lately, and I can't pretend or let these many stones flung upon me to roll off my back. At some point, you have to protect yourself. Despite my heart of a crusader, if not allowed to right a wrong,
prudence would require that I turn away."
The army officer in me agreed that a tactical withdrawl often serves your cost best, but I asked: "Forever?"
He put his hand on my shoulder and answered. "I still have friends, like you, who I am thankful for. With that, comes hope, and all things are possible."
I smiled.
"But I wouldn't delay dinner just yet waiting. I'm hungry." The Bishop added with his own self-aware smile.
