The Destiny of Miro
By
Julie Rae Rickard
NOTE: Now twelve years old, Miro has finally gotten up the courage to confide in someone
about the traumatic loss of his family, and about his recent visions of a past lifetime.


"Come, Miro," the Vicar urged as Miro reluctantly peered inside the dark room.
It was a gloomy room with a wooden trestle table and a few odd pieces of furniture.
Bookcases covered one wall. A large cross hung behind the table. Candles and small statues of
men lined the shelf on the northern wall.
He sat at a chair behind the table and again motioned Miro forward before he lit two
candles, which he placed on either end of the table.
The only light came from the flickering candles. How could this be a holy place when there
was such darkness? Miro wondered. Not even a window to see the sun and trees.
Reluctantly he entered and sat on a small stool, across the table from the Vicar.
"You look troubled, my son," the Vicar said. "Release your burden to me."
"I have sinned against God." Miro hung his head in shame, staring at the hands clasped
together in his lap.
"How could a young boy like you have sinned?" The Vicar asked patiently.
"I disobeyed my father," Miro explained without looking up.
"How did you do that?" the Vicar asked, cautiously.
And Miro explained it all. Jerrie's death, Father's sadness, Nicky's death, the poison and
his destiny. Tears started to form in the corners of his gray eyes as he finished.
"I disobeyed and live. Is this a sin?" He looked up at the Vicar, hoping for redemption.
Shocked, the Vicar sat back in his chair in disbelief.
"Miro, are you saying your Father wanted you to die?" He leaned forward to study Miro's
face in the soft candlelight.
"Yes. He said we all were to join God in heaven. That God told him so." Miro sniffled.
"God told him to do this?" The Vicar did not believe him.
"Yes. Does this mean I disobeyed God, too?" Miro searched the holy man's eyes for
salvation.
The Vicar paused.
"Do you know of any reason God would want your family to die?" he finally asked.
Miro thought of the Friar. Should he repeat what he was told of his mother's father? Would
the Vicar condemn him too if he knew? Finally he decided that if he was to help him, the Vicar
needed to know everything.
"A friar told me Mother's father was a priest, and we were all to be punished."
The Vicar gasped. "He told Father this." Miro wiped his tears away. "And Father believed
him."
Sobbing, Miro covered his face with his hands. The Vicar was silent for a few moments.
Then Miro felt his warm hands on his shoulders.
Moving toward the warmth, Miro hid himself in the Vicar's arms.
"Miro," the Vicar said softly, "you have not sinned by disobeying your father."
Relief washed over him. Miro brushed the tears away.
"God's rules are general. I can not believe he would want anyone to honor their parents if it
put their own life in peril." He held Miro tightly, comforting him.
"Thank you Vicar." Miro sniffed. "I thought so, but sometimes . . .I am not sure."
The Vicar went on to explain that Miro's father was not talking to God and therefore Miro did
not disobey God. Miro nodded in relief. Lera's mother was right.
He also said Miro was very brave when he attempted to save the others. And that it was a
miracle he was with them now.
"A miracle?" Miro looked up suddenly with surprise.
"Yes. God spared you, Miro. He must have spared you for a reason. Perhaps to share your
strength with others." The Vicar kneeled at Miro's feet; his arms still around the boy.
"Then my destiny is not to suffer, be punished?" The Vicar had answered all his fears but
one: did he carry the burden of his grandparent's sin?
The Vicar sighed and stood up. In the flickering light Miro could see his hesitation.
"I can not tell you what your destiny is," he answered simply, returning to his chair.
This answer did not satisfy Miro. He needed to know if his grandfather had sinned.
"Is what the Friar told me true then? Do I carry the sin of my ancestors?"
The Vicar folded his hands on the table. "We are all born with sin, Miro. But the Son of God
was sent to bring us salvation."
Miro was confused. Everyone was born with sin? He must be speaking of sins from other
lifetimes, he decided.
"My sin was murdering and stealing another man's wife," he admitted, guiltily.
Shocked, the Vicar leaned forward again, running his hand along his bald head. When he
asked Miro to repeat what he said, Miro told his story of Ann and Louis.
Reading the Vicar's eyes, Miro could see the man did not believe him.
"Miro. God has given us one life to live." The Vicar held up his index finger and shook his
head. "These dreams of yours are nothing more than dreams. You should not let them trouble you
so. Imaginary sins are not something God punishes you for."
"But it is real!" Miro argued.
"No, boy, it can not be. It is wrong to think you have lived other lives." The Vicar leaned
back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"Wrong?" Miro asked meekly.
"Yes. Miro, this idea of yours could be an effect of the . . ." he searched for the right words.
" . . .loss of your family. You do realize that?"
Now Miro was clearly angry, angry with the Vicar, angry with the Friar, at Father and at
God. His dreams were real. Heather was real. Sometimes more real than life itself. Their love was
real!
He stood.
"I am not insane like my father!" he screamed, as he ran from the dark, smoky room.
Miro ran and ran from the church and into the sunny fields.
A few villagers were gathered together, talking and laughing. They stopped and stared at
the crying boy as he hurried away from the church.
How could the Vicar think he was like his father? The visions he saw were not what Father
saw, were they?
Tears were rolling down his checks. Tears from anger not despair.
Miro ran through the meadow until he came to the edge of the forest. Who could help ease
his pain? Who could he trust, confide in? He wondered. He thought of the deer and entered the
wood.
"Miro!"
Someone was calling his name. Is that you Father? Are you coming to take me to hell?
"Miro!"
Now someone was shaking him. Quickly he opened his eyes. It was night but the Vicar
was standing over him with a torch.
"Miro, I am sorry." Even in the torchlight, Miro could see the Vicar's face was white.
"What?" Miro shook himself awake and sat up.
The Vicar looked down in shame. "I was wrong in what I told you." Before Miro could
respond, the Vicar explained he had a "vision" of his own. Miro's eyes grew wide.
"I was thinking about an old friend I met while studying in Rome. He was strong, confident
and peaceful. He is the one who gave me the leather bound copy of the Bible."
Miro nodded knowing how much the Bible meant to the Vicar.
"Tonight," he said slowly. "His spirit appeared to me."
Miro's mouth dropped open.
"He said he came to remind me of our days together and his beliefs in reincarnation."
"Re in what?" Miro asked.
"Reincarnation is the theory that we have lived before." Miro smiled slightly. Someone did
know about other lives!
"He thought he lived another life in Greece, long ago," the Vicar continued.
"He remembered?"
The Vicar nodded sadly. The church taught that such ideas were blasphemous and the
Vicar had pushed these ideas of other lifetimes aside as the hopeful wishes of a man who lost his
youth, he admitted. After taking a deep breath he continued.
"He reminded me that the Bible once contained passages about reincarnation, but the
church had them stricken." He bowed his head in shame. "He told me I hurt you with my
shallowness. I knew there were signs people may live more than one life, but I did not tell you.
"He reminded me that I had no right to pass my doubt on to you. Then he said there were
many things I could teach you, but that you could teach me even more."
What could he possibly teach the Vicar, Miro thought.
"He told me precisely where to find you even though the whole village has been searching
for you for hours." He looked down again. "Finding you here is proof that the vision I saw was true."
He crossed himself.
"Other lives are possible?" Miro asked.
"Yes. Now I think all things are possible."
"Than I am not insane!" Miro smiled.
"No, Miro. But we need to discuss you dreams."
"Can we talk later Vicar? Suddenly I am very hungry!"
"Yes, yes!" The Vicar stood and hugged Miro. "It can wait."
How to order
Reviews
Other work by
Julie Rae Rickard
Recommended
Reading
"Soundtrack"
Contact Julie
Miro Homepage
Back to Top
The Destiny of Miro
Ó2000, Julie Rae Rickard