The driver stopped by the side of the road across from the gate of the palace. Cars zoomed by the stationary tuktuk, so close they would shave my arm off if I put it out the window. He turned around, looking at me with a crooked smile on his bright face.
"It ok if I stop to give thanks to my king?"
I had seem him bow before, an incline of his head and both hands put together in front of his face before statues of Buddha. It always happened when we were in the middle of driving down busy roads, and in those moments the only thing on my mind was the condition of his sanity. Sometimes he just nodded his head in the direction of the monument and honked his horn.
But this time he came to a complete stop. He turned his body to face the gates, and he bowed. Twice. He muttered a sentence that I couldn't understand. Somehow, I knew it was different than all the other times.
And I wondered why.
He pulled away from the curb and started chatting away in his broken English.
"You see big Buddha? There is school. If child from poor familiy, they can go there for education. My king pay for it. He is good king. You see palace? My king have 3 daughters and 1 son. All live there in palace. There is school for king's army. They protect my King. My king 86 year old. Long live my king."
See, you can't love a statue. You can't get to know it. It can't teach you about kindness and wisdom and love. You can't crawl into its arms at the end of a long day. It doesn’t cry or laugh with you, share a joke with you, run into the unknown with you. It can't protect you from evil. There is no twinkle in its eye or spring in its step. It can't feel. It is incapable of loving you.
But you can love a man.
I used to be a beggar on the side of the road, but He brought me into his house and made me a daughter, strong and free. I am a warrior now. It is who I knew I would be from the moment I was born. It is my destiny. I used to sit at home and hear of His battles out in the wilds, but now I am grown, and My heart burns for victory. I do not fight the darkness for myself, for it has already been defeated. I fight because my King is perfect. He is strong, and wise, and honourable, and He deserves the throne He has. And I love Him so, more than anything. That is why I fight: that Love Himself would reign.
See, there is a man that I love more than my own life, who I would die to follow. There is a King who I can call mine.
And He's sure as hell ain't a statue.
All my love,
B
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