Malachi was always angry. Day in and day out, Malachi would run through town cursing all in his path. It was not hard to find sympathy for him though. All could justify his pain in a way. Malachi was a lost soul. Not in an orthodox way – but in a way that hurt him profoundly. His story was pain. His only armor against his pain was turmoil.

Days would go by with no opportunity for Malachi to find his small angry comfort. So folks would find ways to allow him to act out and justify his actions. His angry storm cloud would summon up as if on call – and find a small window of calm in a noisy outburst. It was only a short numb fraction of his day though. Nothing could supply him with actual satisfaction.

You too would allow this if you had saw his fall into agony. Malachi had lost all in such a way that pain was now his only companion. Nobody could fault him. His painful cavorting through town was a stark warning. It told all that saw him to find joy in today fully – as tomorrow could find you akin to Malachi.