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Prologue

A Letter from Sage to a Sojourner

Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan.

—John F. Kennedy

Hello, young Sojourners.

My name is Billy Washita. A few years ago, my wife of many years passed away, which got me to thinking. Pretty soon, I’ll pass away, too. And, I know that, because before my wife died, I said, “My darling girl, when you leave I’m not going to hang around here more than seven years.” Yeah, when she took off to be with her Creator, I knew the clock was ticking for me. So, it’s about time I get this story off my chest.

Now, I do happen to believe in all that Creator stuff (and reading this, you’ll see why), but maybe you don’t. Wye, that’s just fine. After all, no one’s story is yours but your own. And you, young grasshopper, will have to decide for yourself.

I was like you, once. When I was just about nine years old, I lost both of my parents. Perhaps, that’s how I had so much love to give my precious wife. But, hard as I held her, she too departed from me. So, here I am—down here on this side of Heaven—moving forward.

I grafted her wedding ring onto mine as a sort of sign to symbolize that I’m on a trail of tears without my darling girl, but I’m holding her close to my heart.

You see, I didn’t have any sisters growing up. Nope, it was just Dad and me up in the beginning—before everything changed.

My dad used to tell the kind of stories that painted pictures in your head—stories about Mom and Aunt Sunny taking care of people who’d been all bloodied by the Civil War. The women had a hard road back in that day, (and if you’re a young woman reading this, you can think about what that would have felt like for you.) But this is a different kind of war story—one about orphan life and the gang of friends who helped me survive it.

Maybe you think you know what a superhero looks like, since they’ve filled comic books since the 1930s. But, young sojourners, my gang was the first group of superheroes. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Their powers transcended human ability.

As for me, I’m no hero. I was a young boy with weaknesses, and now I’m an old man with even more of them, and I don’t much care about what others think of me. (I guess you could call that a strength.) If I could go back and speak to that foolhardy young version of myself, I might steer him away from a few of his mistakes. But, you know what? They weren’t all for nothing. The Creator gives us free will to choose our own path, and somehow, by His grace, that young man found his future when he found the secret to his past.

So, grasshopper. Here it is—my gift to you: every one of the private journal entries I wrote to my deceased parents. These writings will launch an adventure you’ll never forget. I just ask one thing. You see, for much of my journey I was arrogant, flooded with pride and no shred of humility. So, please, read it with grace.

You know, the Creator chose the time and place for me, and here you’ll learn a little about it, but there’s just not enough paper here to tell you about my time in Europe and Africa. I can’t recount here the treacherous Trail of Tears journey in Indian Territory that marked me for life. I can’t even tell you the unbelievable stories of every other person in my gang, but, if Lord willing I have a few more years on this earth, I will. You can trust me on that.

Here’s my parting word to you, little sojourner. Enjoy this life.

You’re abundantly wealthy. Did you know that? It’s not your skill or your money that makes you so. Life is odd that way. It’s your inheritance. (That will all make more sense later.)

People will curse you along your journey, but you’d be wise not to receive those useless burdens. Odds are that the hurting people you meet are orphans—not without parents like I was, but orphans in their hearts. Maybe that sounds familiar to you, like someone you know or maybe someone you are. If so, keep journeying.

The good book says, “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man’s judgment: yea, I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself; yet am I not hereby justified: but he that judgeth me is the Lord.” (I Corinthians 4:3-4)

There is a peaceful vine ahead of you, and just like I grafted my darling girl’s ring to mine, the Creator longs to graft you into that vine that brings peace and provision.