Volume 50 Number 11 November 2008
“You know you can do better than this, Paul! What’s going on with you?” His voice sounded impatient and at a loss. The small boy timidly gives the first answer that comes to his mind.
“I don’t know.” Dad takes a deep breath.
“Look at Christopher. When he sets out for a goal he gives it 100%! You need to be more like your brother.”
Upon hearing this my heart sinks. Instead of feeling proud of myself I begin to feel embarrassed and ashamed of the kind of person I was. A trait that is usually applaused and commended quickly became a source of distress for me and my little brother. I didn’t want to hear anymore of the conversation and walked away.
One night, not long after that talk, I heard someone crying in the kitchen. I went to investigate and I saw Paul sitting at the kitchen table sobbing bitterly. In front of him sat crumpled sheets of cardboard paper strewn across the table. Confused about what was going on I asked him in a quiet tone:
“What’s wrong!?” He wiped his wet face with his t-shirt.
“I can’t do this. I don’t know how to do it.” He choked on another set of tears. Suddenly, I heard a voice come from behind me in another room.
“He waited until the last minute to work on a school project...He’s going to pay the price and he’ll learn his lesson!” Dad was fed up with the bad school grades. I turned back to my little brother who was still crying. Now some people might say that this is a good lesson for an 8-year old to learn but at that moment I saw Paul breaking inside. As good of a father ours was to his three young boys, sometimes he was too hard on them. But we all are only humans after all.
“What are you trying to do?” I asked him. He managed to calm down and explain to me his predicament.
“We need to make a Conestoga Wagon for class. The teacher showed us how to make one out of paper but I forgot how she did it.”
“Do you want me to help you?” He looked up with a surprised expression on his face.
“Sure.”
I sat down next to him at the kitchen table and cleared off the crumpled construction paper.
“It’s ok. We’ll make a cool one!”
Slowly but surely a little wagon took shape on the kitchen table. Paul’s countenance began to change and he began to smile. It had a carriage, wheels, and a canvas cover.
“But we’re missing horses. I can’t draw horses very well.” Paul said. I stop for a moment and realize that I’m not a very good artist either. I start looking around the kitchen.
“Aha! I got it.!” I walk over to a kitchen drawer and pull out our cookie cutters. Two of them happened to be shaped like horses. Paul smiles big this time.“Oh yeah!” He exclaims. Needless to say, we had one spiffy looking wagon. We admired it together. Paul quickly left the kitchen and went into his bedroom. He reappeared with something in his hand. The mere sight of it almost brought me to tears.“What are you doing?” I asked him.“This is all I have to give you.” He held out his piggy bank motioning me to take it.“You don’t have to give me anything. I just wanted to help you.”“Thanks, Chris.”
“Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another, love as brothers, be tenderhearted, be courteous, not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing.”
~ 1 Peter 3:8-9