It
was a wreck that a junk yard would probably turn down. The two teens,
Sam and Ben kept looking out the back window to see if any fenders
had fallen off Noah's old wreck of a pickup truck. Silver-haired Noah
had invited the boys to help fix some doors over at the little
country church. Noah loved doing things with the boys, especially
since his beloved Nenee went home to Glory last year.
But
Noah cherished every moment with the teens. God had built a fire for
teens in the old man, and these two bouncing in the seat with him
were his teachers, full of valuable lessons about growing up
teenager, in this stress-filled world.
The
teens followed Noah around the little church and checked each door to
see if each one closed and latched OK. Many were found to need
attention; some kind of adjusting or oiling.
Ben
called out to Noah, from another room with, “Hey Gramps! This door
here needs some work on its hinges! It looks like it has a couple
screws loose!” Sam responded rather loudly, “...Some screws
loose? Ben, if you keep wearing that orange hair people are going to
think you've got some screws loose!” Sam made sure to say it with a
bit of a chuckle in his tone.
What
silver-haired Noah heard next, couldn't have hurt any more than if he
was shot with a gun. Ben explained, “Sam, I don't like this orange
hair. I think it makes me look like a clown and pushes grownups to
distrust me, even be afraid of me. But Sammy, it gets me noticed.
This is the only way I know to get any attention – any at all, good
or bad. I guess I'm a little like this door hinge. Yeah, there are
some parts of me that need tightened up a bit, but I just wish I
could find someone that cared more about me than to just throw some
lubricating oil at me... telling me what stupid decisions I make...
that's all.”
Ben
continued, “I'll tell you something else. Most of the guys I've
been around get tattoos that are pretty expensive. They take several
hours of pain that can be about a 6 on a scale of 10. They like the
pain because it continues on, for days after it's done. If you got
color, you have to go back again later and get the fading colors
touched up again. Mostly they don't care about the picture, they go
after the pain. See, Sam, they want the pain because it hides the
greater pain inside their head and heart. That inside pain keeps
screaming in their mind that no one cares, that they're not worth
dirt – and never will be. The tattoo pain hides all that for a
little while, just like a person getting drunk or doped up.”
In
his own heart, Noah heard a door of opportunity open. The door had
been labeled, 'Help Wanted'. A red marker had changed the door label
to read, 'Hope Wanted'.
With
a bit of a quiver in his voice, Noah said, “Hey guys. I'm off to
bring back some subs and cokes for us. I'll be back in about 30
minutes. Oh. I'll get some chips too. Watch out for each other till I
get back.”
The
Surprise Those 30 Minutes Held -
“Hey
Ben! Come take a look at this!” was Sam's shout to his friend, in
the little church. “Ben, I was going to check another door as I
walked past this bulletin board. I want you to look at this report
listing the names of church friends in the nursing homes, and their
birthdays all arranged in calendar order, grouped by month. I think
that looks pretty neat.” Now both teens would agree that Ben
doesn't always come up with great ideas, even when he's trying to,
but he threw out the idea anyhow. “Sam, I wonder if this Mannie in
their teen department would like to try out some of her computering
in our business. It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?”
Isn't
it incredible how God opens doors of opportunity, in places you
didn't think there was even a wall?
