Dog Bites Boy …Or?

Kids today have any variety of back yard swimming pools to swim in.  Some are above the ground, usually the blow-up kind or some sort of plastic thing, and others are below the ground, like the ones you might swim in at the park that are made of cement and have slides and stuff.  Well when I was a kid of seven and my brother nine and a half, we had a really cool backyard pool.  Now it wasn’t very deep, maybe a foot, but it had built in seats and once blown up, it was real big.  In another life our pool wasn’t a pool at all, but a genuine bright yellow US Navy life raft.  It was just like the ones you might see on television in a war movie.  It was too big to blow up with just your breath so my mom or dad would use a bicycle pump and even then it took quite a while.  Once the sides were filled with air we would turn on the hose and fill the inside with water.  The two seats across the middle made a great diving platform to jump off and unlike blowup pools today, it was made of rubber coated canvas so we could be about as rough as we wanted in it.  Sure, once in a while it would get a hole in it and start to leak air, but they were easily repaired with a tire patch and glue.  As you might expect we played war in it and pretended it was our assault ship, using our squirt guns to hold off the enemy.  It was the best!

One hot and sunny afternoon my brother and I were playing in our big yellow pool and having a great time; that is until my brother Jim, did something that infuriated me.  We were wrestling around, as usual, and I was getting the worst of it. My brother would fill his mouth with water and spit it in my face; not just once but over and over again.  In fact, he pinned me down with his knees on my arms and would spit water in my face and when his cheeks were empty, he’d just spit in my face. Well, I screamed for my mother to come out of the house but just as she stepped off the stoop to see what was going on, all she saw was me filling my mouth and spitting water at the back of Jim’s head.  So who do you think got yelled at?  I tried to explain that my actions were in self- defense and that he started it but my mom would hear none of it.  She told us both that if we didn’t behave, we’d have to come in the house and sit in our room quietly for the rest of the afternoon.

Well we heeded mother’s warning for a while but it wasn’t long before the spitting war resumed.  First he chased me and then me, him; all in great fun.  That is until Jim grabbed the hose and unleashed a water barrage right in my face and then followed up with shots to my fat gut.  Fun is fun, but he’d gone over the line so I grabbed a broom and began to chase him around the garage, trying to hit him in the gut, or anywhere else I could get him.  Then I decided I would bushwhack him by hiding by the corner of the garage and wait for him to round it, him thinking that I was still in hot pursuit.  What happened next is subject to interpretation, but I swear I didn’t mean to hit him in the face and not as hard as I obviously did.  Jim let out a scream as the broom bounced off his face; a gusher of blood flowed from his nose and then he began to spit blood from his mouth.  I froze in fear, yet unsure of what I was afraid of; that I had really hurt him or the possible punishment that would surely come my way.  Or maybe it was the shock of seeing my big brother bleeding and crying out in pain; I’m not really sure what I was afraid of.

It wasn’t more than a couple seconds before my mother came bursting through the screen door, with such force that the door slammed into the side of the house sounding like a gun shot, frightening me even more.  She seemed unusually calm considering the sight of my brother bleeding and all; and then, rather calmly, said to me, “Go in the house and dry off.  I’ll deal with you when I’m finished taking care of your brother.”  I ran into to the house and went directly to the basement, hoping perhaps that once she was finished taking care of my brother she’d forget about me; if I was out of sight and out of mind.  I sat in the dark basement on an old kitchen chair trying not to hear what was going on upstairs; since I was sure my brother was tattling on me, blaming me for the whole affair.   Then I decided that it would be smarter to climb to the top of the stairs and try to hear about how much trouble I may be in.  But as I walked toward the stairs in the dark, I tripped over our dog, Lady, and fell right on top of her. As I started to get up, you’ll never guess what happened next.

If you remember, Lady was kind of a mean old black dog who didn’t care much for me or my brother.  Heck, she even dared to growl at my dad sometimes.  Well just as I was getting to my feet I heard Lady let out a low menacing growl and then I felt the pain of her biting down on my ankle.  I was able to pull away before too much damage was done but what happened next is hard to understand why, or even believe.  I kneeled down next to her, grabbed her leg and bit down about as hard as I could, getting a mouth full of dog hair in the process. She too pulled away before too much damage had been done.  Now you might think I would have cried out or something but before I could, Lady began to howl like an old hound dog, which she was not.  My reaction was strange to say the least and it was what my mother would see as she came rushing down the stairs to see what was going on.  I grabbed the dog’s leg once again and sunk my teeth into it, oblivious to the black fur coating my tongue. Mother screamed while she grabbed me by the arm pulling me off the dog.  Lady jumped up and shot up the stairs as if she was afraid I would be in pursuit to take another bite.  It was only then that I started to cry and noticed the teeth marks on my ankle.

Mother didn’t yell or anything, but calmly took me by the hand and led me upstairs; after my brief explanation of what had transpired and an equally brief examination by mom of the damage to my ankle.  I think Lady got the worst of our exchange because by the time my sobbing subsided, Lady’s teeth marks had faded and there was no broken skin or blood to testify to our exchange.  I had forgotten all about my brother’s bloody nose and all that had preceded the boy bites dog incident.  Honestly, I think my mother was exhausted by it all, so her only words of correction were, “Don’t ever bite Lady again, or anyone or anything else ever again.  Do you understand?  Now don’t you think you owe your brother an apology?  He’s lying down on the bed…go tell him you’re sorry.”  I did what I was told and the only thing my brother said back was, “Did you really bite Lady?  Cool…”

It’s funny, I don’t ever remember our dog Lady ever growling or snapping at me ever again!

Why do you sometimes do things you shouldn’t? Why do you sometimes disobey your mother or father? (Mom or Dad: The answer is that we all disobey God’s rules, even you.)

Can you find an example of someone not practicing self-control in this story?

Can you find an example of someone not being kind, peaceful or gentle?

We demonstrate our love for others and God by being self-controlled and full of joy, being peaceful and kind, being honest and true in what we say and do, by being gentle and desiring to do good, and having patience with others (Galatians 5:22-23).

Two Best Friends

I can’t remember if I was six or seven years old, but it really doesn’t matter, since my best friend was a kid named Gary.  I’m not sure why we were best friends but we both knew it was the truth.  Maybe it was because I was kind of fat and not a very popular kid and I thought Gary was the coolest.  That doesn’t explain why he liked to hang out with me but that’s just the way it was.  When we were at school we always hung out together at recess and after school, with my mother’s OK, I would go over to his house climb up into the tree house in his back yard and pretend to be cowboys or army guys fighting off bad guys.  From up there we could fight off whatever or whoever might attack us; the high ground was ours.  Sometimes we’d go over to my house but since I didn’t have anything to compare to that tree house, we most always went to Gary’s.

In the summer there was a lot more to do, but a day didn’t go buy that we didn’t climb the ladder to our hideaway and spend hours together imagining and then doing great and brave things in defense of those who needed our protection.  Once and a while Gary’s mother would call up to us and ask if we wanted a snack or something and we’d hurry down, grab it up and return with our rations to our fort in the sky.  It was all great fun, that is, until it all changed one afternoon in late May.  School would be out in just a few weeks so it was sort of a surprise when our teacher introduced Steve as new member of our class, but we all did what she asked and in unison said, “Welcome to Wells School.”

Steve seemed like a nice enough kid, he was friendly but not too much so, talkative but he didn’t talk your leg off and unlike me, wasn’t a fatso.  Fatso was the name that Gary called me when we were alone, never in front of anybody, it was just something best friends could do.  At recess, that first day, Gary and I ran over to the monkey bars, as usual, to see who could reach the top first, an event that I rarely if ever won.  Gary could climb like a chimpanzee, faster than anyone else in our class but on this day he had competition.  Just as we hit the bars, Steve made his move and for the first time Gary had real competition (there was one girl who was actually faster but we didn’t like to talk about it).  Gary won, but everyone knew that there was a new competitor for king of the monkey bars and it was the new kid, Steve.  What I also saw that morning was another competition about to kick-off and it was between Steve and me.  Not for king of the monkey bars but for my best friend, Gary.

It was a about noon on a Saturday and as usual I made my way over to Gary’s house to meet him in our treetop fort to battle whatever enemies might come by, but as I began to climb the ladder I heard something I’d never heard before, two voices talking about things only Gary and I had spoken of in the past.  I heard Gary exclaim, “You missed um, and they’re coming around the other side…open fire!”  This was followed by another voice saying, “I got ‘um both… look out there are more coming your way.”  This was followed by the sound of gun fire, you know, the sound that every kid knows how to make.  When I got to the top of the ladder, Gary yelled at me, “Hurry up…get on in here, we’re under attack!”

I did what Gary said but I didn’t join in the action because I almost felt sick to my stomach and didn’t know if I felt like yelling at Gary, at Steve or just crying.  This was our fort, not Steve’s or anyone else’s, Gary and me…no one else.  They both looked at me and could see something was wrong, and it was Steve who spoke first.  He asked me, “Which window is yours?  I’ll shoot out of the other one.”  Gary was the next to speak, “Hey fatso we missed you.  Steve wanted to wait for you, but I told him you wouldn’t mind if picked we off a few of them before you got here.”  Steve reached out to hand me my imaginary gun and said, “I think this is yours Dick, I was just warming it up for you.”  In that very moment in time the sick feeling in my stomach went away and those small tears in the corner of my eyes vanished and I replied, “Just call me fatso.”  We spent the rest of the afternoon shooting bad guys, eating the Oreo’s Steve had brought and did what three best friends do, you know.

Who was being selfish in the story and selfish over what or who?

Who was jealous of whom and why?

Can you find an example of someone trying to understand what I was feeling and then reaching out in friendship?

Do you think it was OK for Steve and Gary to call me “fatso

The Girl in Blue

Her name was Linda and she had the prettiest long blonde hair I’d ever see. But since I was only five and didn’t have a sister, the number of girls I had seen was almost completely represented by my kindergarten class.  Linda sat in front of me and she almost always wore her hair in a ponytail, a long ponytail.  There it was, right in front of me, morning after morning, day after day.  So it was inevitable, and any boy will tell you, that such a beautiful ponytail just begs to be pulled.  Every time I would give it a yank the response was the same; a short but piercing cry of both surprise and a little bit of pain I’m sure.  But there was also the telltale sound of pleasure in her voice, but at the time I wasn’t sure or why that might be.

Now it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that I kind of liked Linda, if you know what I mean.  She was pretty, real nice and kind of quiet, unlike some of the girls.  I wanted her to like me but I really didn’t know how to show her how I felt.  Also, I wasn’t convinced I should, since I didn’t know how my buddies would react to my liking a girl.  Whenever my buddies and I were playing with those big, red, cardboard blocks that look like bricks, Linda would be there hanging around with her friend’s.  I thought about asking her to join in our building project, but of course I was afraid of what my buddies might think of me, you know, asking a girl to join in.  Besides, there was lots of stuff for the girls to play with which we guys weren’t interested in.  Maybe that’s why I pulled on that ponytail most every day, and was willing to accept repeated correction by Ms. Wood, our teacher.  I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I really just wanted her to notice me I guess and pulling her hair was one way I knew I’d get her attention.

Linda always wore a blue dress, not the same dress, but always blue and that gave me an idea.  I decided that I would wear blue to school so we would match.  Somehow I thought this would make her take notice of me.  Well, the only problem was that my selection of blue shirts was limited to only two and one of those I didn’t much like.  That left me only one real choice, my favorite shirt of all, my Superman shirt.  It was even the right shade of blue and it had long sleeves for winter.  I tried wearing it every day, when it was clean enough to be seen in, but eventually my mom said, “I don’t know why you want to wear that shirt every day, but you can’t and you won’t.  You have lots of other shirts to wear and you will wear them!”  Well it didn’t matter since Linda didn’t seem to care one way or the other what color shirt I wore.

Our classroom was a large open room with a partitioned coat area in the back, with hooks to hang up our coats and rugs for our wet boots, on snowy or rainy days.  It was kind of dark since there were no windows, like the rest of the room and it was our favorite place to hide when playing hide and seek and stuff on days we couldn’t go out for recess.  On one of those rainy and cold days I was playing war with my buddies and decided to duck into the coat room to hide from an incoming artillery barrage and as I was ducking down, I noticed a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye and stood up.  Standing ever so close in front of me was Linda, who was not there to hide or to put on her coat and boots.  She looked me straight in the eye and said, “You don’t have pull my hair, wear silly shirts or anything else to get me to like you…I already do.”  What happen next I’ll never forget; she grabbed my hand, leaned forward and KISSED ME on the cheek!  Now what do you think I said?  Absolutely nothing since I was too shocked and delighted to say anything.  Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

After that, I never again pulled on Linda’s ponytail or did anything else silly to get her attention.  We never spoke to each other or anyone else about what happened in the coat room that afternoon, but we did talk and play together sometimes.  I still didn’t ask her join me and my buddies when we were building stuff or playing war; but she knew I would have, if it had been just up to me.

Have you ever heard your mother or father ask, “Why are you acting up…will you just stop it?”  If you really think about it, most of the time when we act up (adults do it too) it’s because we want attention and one sure way to get attention is to do something we’re not supposed to.  Pulling on Linda’s ponytail was my way of getting her attention by doing something I shouldn’t.  Imagine a situation where you mom or dad has just picked you up from school and instead of asking you how your day went, they did nothing but talk on their phone while driving home; and when you arrived home continued to ignore you and talk on the phone.  Would this be a time when you might choose to act up?  What should you do instead?

Let me give you three things you could try, instead of acting up; they are listen, wait, and ask.  More than likely what they are talking about on the phone is important, so don’t interrupt.  Listen and don’t interrupt; wait until they are finished speaking on the phone, then ask to be heard.  You could say something like, “you won’t believe what happened to me today.”  There is nothing wrong with wanting attention from somebody you care about or love, but there is a wrong way and a right way to get their attention.

Can you think of a time when you wanted attention from someone but didn’t get it? Did you choose to act up?

Sometimes when you want attention are you just being selfish

Josiah the Hero

By the time the boy King had cleaned out the temple, got his people back on track reading the Book of Moses and worshipping the one true God of Israel, Josiah had reached the age of your mother and father.  Josiah was beloved by his people but even more important, loved by God.  But it wouldn’t be long before Israel’s neighbors began to want all that King Josiah had built for his people with God’s help; their wealth, land and even their children.  It was not uncommon back then for the winner of a war to carry off the young and strong of those they had defeated in battle; to become their servants or slaves.  King Josiah’s kingdom was not only targeted because of its wealth and prosperity but also because the people of Israel worshipped the one true God and told all who would listen about Him.  Israel’s enemies were both jealous and envious of their relationship with God.

Israel, Josiah’s Kingdom, was a nation located between two much bigger and more powerful countries, whose armies were much more numerous than Josiah’s.  To the South was Egypt, ruled by King Neco and to the Northeast, the mighty Kingdom of Babylon under King Nebu (Nebuchadnezzar).  Egypt and Babylon were at war with each other and both of them wanted what Israel had, so both would attack Israel on the way to fighting each other.  If the region of Egypt, Israel and Babylon was a baloney sandwich, Israel would be the baloney with Egypt and Babylon the two pieces of bread.  King Neco’s army was on the march to face the mighty forces of King Nebu and unfortunately, King Josiah’s army was caught in the middle to face Neco’s superior forces.  As the armies faced each other on the field of battle, Josiah’s general’s told him to return home and that they would face Neco’s forces without him.  The generals loved Josiah and were afraid some harm might come to their beloved King in battle.  But before Josiah could depart, Neco sent messengers to Josiah telling him, “We have no quarrel with you.  Your God has told me not to attack you and that I must hurry along; and if you don’t lay down your weapons, your God will destroy you.”

King Josiah didn’t believe Neco because he knew that the King of Egypt did not worship the one true God of Israel and if he must die in battle, it wouldn’t be because he believed a lie spoken about the Lord God of Israel whom he worshipped and obeyed.  Josiah refused to leave the field of battle but at the urging of his generals, disguised himself as one of his soldiers and went off into battle.  Josiah fought bravely with his sword and shield but Neco’s army had many archers who filled the skies with arrows which rained down on Josiah and his army like a rain storm.  The sky was so filled with arrows in flight; it turned dark as if the black clouds of an approaching storm were upon them.  One of those arrows pierced the armor of King Josiah and he called to one of his officers, “Take me away; I am badly wounded.”  So they took him out of his chariot, put him in another and brought him back to Jerusalem; Josiah’s home and the city of God’s temple.  Josiah died of his wounds and was buried with his fathers, and all of Jerusalem and the entire nation were sad and mourned for him.

Josiah’s bravery and belief in God saved his people that day.  Josiah the boy King would forever be remembered as Israel’s last great and good king, a man who trusted God and was willing to die to save his people.

Was King Josiah a hero?  Of course he was, because he was brave and showed courage in the face of great danger.  But what made him a great and good King was his love for his people and for God.  Josiah placed the safety and well-being of his people above and before his own.  Josiah was willing to sacrifice himself for his people and to defend the name of God.  This is what made Josiah a real hero.  Do you think Josiah was afraid in battle, especially when he saw the arrows in flight over- head?  Of course he was.  Being a hero doesn’t mean you won’t be afraid, only that fear will not keep you from doing what is right.   Many years after the battle between Josiah and Neco, a man would be born in Israel who was the greatest hero that ever lived or will ever live.  His name was Jesus and he was the Son of God.  Jesus would give his life for the whole world, including you and me.  He did it because he loves us more than anything or anybody.

Have you ever had to be brave and courageous?

Have you ever felt trapped by someone or something and wanted to hide or run away out of fear?  Did you?

Did you know that God wants to help you when you feel trapped or afraid?  Have you ever asked for His help

Do you know someone who is a hero…someone who loves you and wants to protect you at all cost?

Target Practice

When I was a boy, the one toy my brother and I always wanted for Christmas or for a birthday was always the same.  It didn’t matter what kind, shape or color as long as it was a gun!  The ones that shot caps (you know the old paper ones that came in a roll) were always preferred but squirt guns were always in season at our house.  Few things were more fun than shooting squirt guns in the bath tub, except when you would get it in the eye with soapy water.  In fact, it was squirt guns in the bath tub that caused a real problem for my brother and I one evening.

Now you might be wondering; how much trouble can you get into shooting squirt guns in the bath tub? Especially since mother would always pull the shower curtain so we wouldn’t get water all over the bathroom.  Well, if there was trouble to be found, my brother and I could find it.  We decided we needed a new target to shoot at other than each other and as we peaked out from behind the curtain we saw the perfect target, the toilet paper roll hanging on the wall.  We concluded that we could roll out some of the paper, take aim and blast away.  When we needed more targets, all we needed to do was to roll some more out.  After a few minutes of blasting, my gun jammed so I climbed out of the tub, ran to my room to get my backup gun, all the way drying the floor with my towel as I went.  But once in my room I heard the sound of my mother’s voice and she didn’t sound happy.  I heard her exclaim in a loud voice, “What have you done?  What were you thinking?  What a mess you’ve made!”

I thought for a minute that maybe I shouldn’t return to the scene of the crime, but I ran back to the bathroom willing to accept whatever punishment might be coming.  As soon as I walked into the bathroom my mother turned to me and asked, “Did you have anything to do with this, or is it all your brother’s doing?”  I thought for a moment and before I could think it through I responded, “I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me!”  My mom said, “Very well, get yourself dried off, put your pajamas on and get into bed.  I’ll be in with your brother as soon as he gets done cleaning this mess up.”  I did what I was told, all the time listening to my mother bawling out my brother.  But what I didn’t hear was my brother saying, “He did it too!”  No, my brother didn’t tell on me but instead of my feeling relieved, as I thought I would, I felt something else…guilt.

What is guilt anyway?  Guilt is what you feel when you haven’t been caught at something you shouldn’t have done in the first place and know that you deserve to be caught.  Where does guilt come from?  It comes from God and it is God’s way of telling us to admit our wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness no matter what.  You see, each of us has something called a conscience living in us, and it was put there by God.  If we didn’t have a conscience, we’d never feel guilt or be able to know what is right and what is wrong.  Sometimes our fear of getting caught and being punished makes us want to ignore our conscience and those guilty feelings, but that is never the right thing to do.  More often than not, it will take an awful long time for the guilty feelings to go away and the only way to make the guilt really go away, for good, is to admit what you’ve done and ask forgiveness.  This will make you feel better in the end and please God at the same time.

Well I couldn’t take it anymore, so I jumped out of bed and met my mother and brother at the bedroom door as they were coming in.  I blurted out, “I did it too…in fact it was me who took the first shots at the toilet paper roll!”  Much to my surprise both my mother and brother began to laugh?  Then my mom said, “I knew you would hear us in the bathroom, so I whispered to your brother, ‘Let’s see if your brother will admit that he was shooting things up too, I’ll pretend to yell at you and let’s see if we can make him feel guilty to confess.’”  They tricked me into feeling guilty, but only because I was guilty!  My mom went on to say that she wasn’t happy about us making such a mess in the bathroom but she was happy and proud of us for telling the truth.  In fact, instead of being punished my brother and I both had ice cream bars before we went to bed as reward for telling the truth.

 

Have you ever felt so guilty about something, you just had to tell the truth?

Have you ever decided that telling the truth was just too hard to do?

Are you lying if you don’t get caught and you decide not to admit what you’ve done?