The Lost Choice

  PRAISE FOR The Lost Choice

  “Bottom line, I’m a better person for having experienced Andy Andrews’ incredible storytelling talent. For the special people in your life, there could be no better gift.”

  —BILL AMES, Executive, General Motors

  “The story of The Lost Choice is the best I’ve read in years, but the book’s message will land it on the desks of the world’s business leaders. This is a masterpiece—a thrilling mystery that can change your life. Do yourself a huge favor and read this book. I loved it.”

  —DON BRINDLEY, Former President, Merrill Lynch Insurance

  “Andy Andrews weaves the golden threads of love, truth, and wisdom into a brilliant tapestry of a story.”

  —DELILAH, Nighttime Radio Personality

  “The Lost Choice is a spectacular novel that will change your business . . . and your life. Og Mandino’s passion was storytelling that made a difference. He has passed the baton to Andy Andrews and the tradition continues!”

  —TODD DUNCAN, Author of High Trust Selling & Killing the Sale

  “The Lost Choice is a masterpiece of ideas and emotions—a magnificent and bold achievement that will be an inspiration to all who read it.”

  —DEBBIE ELLIOTT, National Public Radio

  “Andy Andrews knows about success—and in The Lost Choice he deftly, yet subtly delivers a powerful message of success to the reader. A lesson for life.”

  —GENERAL ROBERT H. “DOC” FOGLESONG, USAF

  “A true treasure—another inspiring tale from one of this century’s greatest storytellers.”

  —SCOTT JEFFREY, Author of Journey to the Impossible

  “The Lost Choice is told so simply by author Andy Andrews. The special effect of this book is pure genius. It is a story for generations.”

  —JOSEPH G. LAKE, Cofounder, Children’s Miracle Network

  “The Lost Choice will impact the personal and financial lives of every business person who reads it. I have personally made Andy Andrews’ books required reading for everyone in our company. It is a book you definitely need to pass on to your friends.”

  —JIM PACE, President and CEO, Group VI Corporation

  “Andy Andrews has done it yet again! Just like with The Traveler’s Gift he had me from the first page! Andy is a man with a message you must hear and apply to your life . . .Awesome!!!!”

  —DAVE RAMSEY, Radio Host and Author of the

  New York Times best-seller The Total Money Makeover

  “You think there are no second chances in life? Andy Andrews will prove you wrong. Trust me—read this book. The Lost Choice blew me away.”

  —TODD RAINSBERGER, Producer, ESPN

  “Andy Andrews is a new breed of novelist—one who makes ‘chronological discoveries’ an art form. This is a beautiful story that will keep you guessing until the last page.”

  —JOHN R. SCHNEIDER, Actor and Recording Artist

  “Andy Andrews has become one of the largest influences in my life. If I could choose one gift to give every person with whom I cross paths, it would be this book.”

  —CHRIS SMITH, Executive, Coca-Cola Enterprises

  “The Lost Choice represents the definition of a class act. As Andy’s latest triumph, the book owes both its significance and success to the way it seamlessly unites critical life elements.”

  —ZACHARY SMITH, President, Delphian Internet

  “Once again Andy Andrews has created a masterpiece. The Lost Choice confirms the promise passed from generation to generation, that through our choices we, too, can attain greatness and make our mark in history.”

  —DEANNIA C. SMITH, English Teacher,

  Oxford High School, Oxford, Alabama

  “Another masterpiece by Andy Andrews with a dramatic storyline, great writing, historical value, a plot that captivates our minds and provides an escape from the present by sending us on another exhilarating adventure. As a congressman, my time is very limited. The Lost Choice joins The Traveler’s Gift as time well spent.”

  —CONGRESSMAN ZACH WAMP, Tennessee,Third Congressional District

  “I am Andy’s #1 fan. I have recommended Andy’s book to every person in our organization. Andy’s values of leadership, collaboration, and responsibility are reflected in our company culture.”

  —MARK WILLIS, President, Keller Williams Realty International

  THE LOST

  CHOICE

  A LEGEND of

  PERSONAL DISCOVERY

  ANDY

  ANDREWS

  CONTACT ANDY

  Book Andy for your corporate event:

  (800) 726-ANDY (2639)

  Learn more at

  www.AndyAndrews.com

  Copyright © 2004 by Andy Andrews

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means— electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other— except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville,Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Andrews,Andy, 1959–

  The lost choice : a legend of personal discovery / Andy Andrews.

  p. cm.

  Includes bibliographical references.

  ISBN 0-7852-6139-7 (hardcover)

  1. Conduct of life. 2. Success. I. Title.

  BJ1597.A52 2004

  813'.54—dc22

  2004003469

  Printed in the United States of America

  04 05 06 07 08 QWM 5 4 3 2 1

  Dedicated to Sandra K. Dorff, Paula Tebbe,

  and Susie White—three ladies whose choices have

  had a profound effect on my family and me.

  Thanks, SB, PC, and Woowie!

  No individual has any right to come into this world and go out of it without leaving behind him distinct and legitimate reasons for having passed through it.

  —George Washington Carver

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Bibliography

  PROLOGUE

  SINAI PENINSULA—AD 281

  KASIMIR SHIELDED HIS EYES WITH BOTH HANDS as he peered intently into the sun’s last rays. Another tear made a track through the dust on his browned face and fell from his chin. His age was eleven summers now, almost a man, and his father’s falcon was missing.

  Alem, his father, had often made it clear that he was not yet ready to command the valuable huntress. The falcon had been a gift from a prince, given to Alem as a sign of respect. Her name was Skei—a word the prince had told them meant “swift.” She was as tall as Kasimir’s arm was long, and her talons completely enveloped the leather covering on his skinny shoulder where she sometimes sat as Kasimir rode his father’s camel. Skei was snow white with jet-black slashes in her feathers, and she wore a hood that matched the jesses, long hide straps, on her legs.

  Intending to prove his resourcefulness and maturity, the boy had impulsively released the bird earlier in the day when the shadows were small. Food was scarce, and the rabbit he had glimpsed would have made an excellent meal. Unfortunately, the beautiful falcon had not seen fit to return with the rabbit or any rabbit or to return at all for tha
t matter. “Kasi!” The boy cringed at the sound of his father’s voice. It was not an unkind voice for he was not an unkind man. It was, however, the voice of a man who demanded honesty. And Kasimir would be honest with him now. “Kasi!” Alem called again.

  “Coming, Father!”

  THE DESERT GLOWED WITH THE APPROACHING DUSK as the velvet sand returned its heat to the evening sky. For three days the Bedouins had rested at Elim. Fewer than fivescore—one hundred—men,women, and children comprised this nomadic group. Generally wandering an area between the Springs of Marah and the mountain they called Jabal al Lawz, these people did not count Alem and his son as part of their tribe. Neither, however, did they consider them intruders. Alem and Kasi had come and gone several times over the last four summers, each arrival bringing news of interest from Egypt, Midian, even Rome!

  Their story was known to all. Alem’s wife had died when Kasi was still a baby. He never took another woman, choosing instead to care for his boy alone and live a life “wandering among the wanderers.” It was incredibly dangerous. There were slave traders, thieves, and, of course, the desert itself. Yet season after season the father and son traveled together, sometimes with one tribe or another, but most often alone.

  Alem was regarded as very unique among the desert people, for two reasons. One, he had a gift of clarity. Many said that he could see through a head directly into a heart. Alem was not a prophet or a religious leader and almost never addressed a gathering, but was often sought as a companion by the fire or as the caravan moved across the sand. He spoke directly, but with compassion, discerning one’s past with an eye to guiding the future. Alem was an oracle of truth.

  Second, it was widely known that Alem had a possession. Beyond one’s camel, robes, and perhaps a weapon such as a sword or even a falcon or sight hound, this was almost unheard of. But Alem had one. A possession. And no one had any idea what it was.

  ALEM’S POSSESSION WAS ROLLED THICKLY IN BURGUNDY linen and bound with cord cut from a black burnoose. A short leather strap wound tightly around Alem’s left shoulder and neck, allowing the object to settle into the folds of his robe. Thus, it was carried next to his chest, where his eyes could watch the possession and his arms could protect it. Always and all the time.

  Alem slept, ate, and traveled with the possession awkwardly attached to him. It was of an indeterminate size due to the bulky cloth in which it was wrapped, but “a bit smaller than the foot of a camel” had been accepted as the general dimension by those who engaged in endless discussions about this curiosity. It was whispered that even Kasimir, his boy, had never seen the item.

  Kasi found his father seated alone, cross-legged beside a small fire, one of many burning throughout the palms. “Ahh! There you are,my son,”Alem said as the boy entered the firelight.

  “Father, I have something to tell you,” he began right away.

  “And I am anxious to hear your news,”Alem said with a smile. “But first, be seated and partake of today’s abundance, for soon today will be gone. Eat!”

  “Father, what I have to say—”

  “Will wait until you have eaten. Sit, my son.” He gestured toward the ground to his right and as Kasi sat beside him, Alem continued. “We will depart this evening. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Then eat.” Alem pulled a stick from over the fire and removed the leg of what appeared to be a large roasted hare. He brushed a cinder from the meat with his free hand, passed it to Kasi, and said,“A small band of us—perhaps half a score—will move north when the fires are low. Will you halter Biba when you are through here? She is with the group of camels under the fig tree.”

  “As you wish, Father. But first, I must tell you—”

  “Kasi!”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Eat.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Kasimir took a big bite and chewed thoughtfully as he studied the man everyone said he so closely resembled. His father’s black hair barely showed around the edges of what was once a white burnoose. His skin was dark, burned to an even shade by the sun and the wind, and it contrasted sharply with his even, white teeth. His nose was long and straight, perfect except for the small scar running across the bridge, and his chin was strong. One could easily see Alem’s chin, for his beard had never grown. More stubble than beard, the whiskers were short and thinly spaced.

  The boy smiled at his father as he took another bite. No one looks at his beard anyway, he thought. They only see his eyes! It was true. Alem’s eyes were bright blue. As rare as diamonds, Kasi had heard the women say. He had seen men avert their own eyes when they met his father. Blue eyes, Kasi mused. Blue eyes like azure. And I have them too.

  Suddenly Kasi frowned.“Is this rabbit, Father?” He held up a bone from which he had eaten the meat.

  “Rabbit . . . hare.Yes.” Alem’s eyebrows lifted.

  “From where did we receive such a blessing?”

  “Well, let me see.” Alem rubbed his finger alongside his nose. “Could it have been a gift from another family?”

  “No, Father. There has not been enough to eat,much less to share!”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” Alem said smiling. “No, it would not have been a gift. And we know what the dogs do if they catch one—no sharing there. Do you suppose perhaps Biba ran this one down?”

  Kasi laughed. He was being teased and he knew it.“No, Father! I don’t believe our grouchy old camel caught a rabbit! But I have never seen you run fast enough to catch one either!”

  “That is very true,my son. I am not as fleet as the hare.” Alem quickly put his arm around Kasi and lay straight back, pulling the boy with him until both were side by side, flat on their backs, looking upward. He pointed with the bone in his hand, directing his son’s gaze to a palm branch above them. “No, I am not as fast as a rabbit, but I do enjoy its taste. And that is why I take care of my falcon!”

  “Skei!” Kasi exclaimed. The beautiful bird sat above them, cocking her head curiously. Turning, he asked,“Where did you find her? I was about to tell you she was lost and that it was all my fault.”

  “She found me, Kasi, with the rabbit, only moments after you let her go.” Alem narrowed his eyes a bit and smiled. “And while yet another conversation remains about you and Skei, I must admit pride that you were willing to accept responsibility for the disobedient choice you made. That is evidence of a growing character.”

  Kasi rolled over and moved into a sitting position as Alem stood and began wrapping the folds of his burnoose around his left arm.“I want to do what is right,” the boy said,“but sometimes I want to do what I . . .” He paused and furrowed his brow. Then, looking up at his father again, he stumbled ahead.“Well, I suppose sometimes I want to do what I want to do. Is that evidence of bad character?”

  Alem smiled at Kasi and extended his arm toward the falcon. “Your character is your essence; it is what you are. Your character is determined by the choices you make when no one will ever know what you did . . . or didn’t.” Skei dropped from the palm branch and landed heavily on Alem’s arm. “You must build your character daily, my son. And immediately. All blossoms of tomorrow, and all weeds as well, are in the seeds you are sowing today. Your influence, your wealth, and ultimately your legacy will be decided by this one thing. For ultimately, no person can ever rise beyond the restrictions of his own character.”

  For a moment, the man and boy simply looked at each other. Blue eyes burning blue eyes into memory by firelight. Kasi spoke first.“I understand,” he said.

  “I knew you would,” his father responded softly. Then, slipping into the shadows, he said,“Quickly now. Ready the camel.”

  THE DARKNESS WAS VAST AND COMPLETE; THE MOON-less night a flowing tide of ebony muslin drawn like a tent over the tiny caravan. Eight camels plodded in a loosely defined single file gradually gaining ground in the general direction of Polaris, the brightest of the stars shredding this blackest of nights. The soft voices of the Bedouins
drifted across the sand and emptied into nothingness.

  Biba was the third camel. She was draped in red silk and carried two immense baskets—one on either side of her hump—heavily loaded with the spices cardamom, cassia, black cumin, as well as more red silk. Seated on the center of Biba’s hump, hands on the reins, a foot resting on each basket,was Alem with Skei the falcon, asleep, perched on his shoulder. Kasi snuggled in close, sitting practically in Alem’s lap, his father’s arms draped around his shoulders. They swayed in an awkward unison to the camel’s gait.

  In the starlight, Kasi could see the other men and their desert steeds in front of and behind them. They were headed to Colonia Aelia, the Emperor Hadrian’s new city. There they would spend a few days in the spice market. After trading for food and the essentials of life, the Bedouins would make their way back across the Desert of Shur to rejoin their people near Marah. Alem and Kasi would not make the return trip.

  “Why must we leave these people, Father?” Kasi asked quietly.

  “For us,my son, there is only safety in movement,” came the answer. “And then, only a measurement are aware that there are those who seek us for want of the possession.” Alem absently touched the rolled-up object that was tied to his chest. “And these are simply violent times.”

  “If someone tried to hurt us,” Kasi said shaking his fist,“I would think of many ways to hurt them in return!”

  Alem laughed gently.“Those thoughts would take too much of your precious time, I fear. Time spent getting even would be better used gaining an understanding of yourself. Revenge is like biting a camel because the camel has bitten you. When you seek to get even, you are apt to do strange things!”

  “Why do you say that I must understand myself?” Kasi puzzled.“I am quite certain that I already understand myself.” “Really?” Alem said as he leaned out and around his son’s shoulder to see his face. Skei flapped her wings once, disturbed by the sudden movement.“Really, you do?”

  “I think so,” Kasi said, now not so certain.

  “Then can you explain to me,my son, why you released Skei this morning when you clearly knew this was against my wishes? You knew it was wrong, yet you proceeded. Was it your desire to do evil?”