Tuesday, October 18, 2011

#5. I'm a C.B. MAX


The next hour would change Blaster's life forever.

Blaster's grizzly calloused hand motioned for Max to take a seat on the grass and both leaned up against the perfect shade tree. Blaster came just to listen. There'd be no spouting rules or accusations of stupid choices... he'd just listen.

Max was all of 16, and headed down a road to the rocks, very much out of control, emotionally. Before Max spoke, he breathed out a long deep sigh. He felt his exhaled distress could make a difference to that sailboat smoothly gliding among the sparkling diamonds of reflected sunlight. He popped the tab on his coke, as did Blaster. Both begged themselves for the right things to say, and when to keep silent.

Blaster, this sure is relaxing. Thanks for caring enough to bring me. I'm sure you got more important things to do, but I sure needed this. It seems like this growin' up gets tougher for me every week.” Max looked at the silver-haired Blaster with an expression that silently said, “Help me Mr. B. I'm drowning and I don't know where shore is, or who to ask. I mean, the way I've acted, I know for certain God sure isn't going to listen to me! That's why I'm so glad you do.”

Mom and dad are so stressed, they can't say 5 words without shouting at each other. Their shouting even splatters over onto me, if I'm around or can hear them.” Max took a drink of pop and rested it on the grass, making sure no ants were around.

Mom told me once about the puppets they had before television came along. These puppets had strings connected to them and a person up above would pull different puppet strings and make it dance, lay down, move its mouth, or shake its head. Mr. B. I don't know if you can understand it, but there are many times I wished I could put mom and dad on those strings. Oh how I wished I could pull some strings and make them dance with each other, smile, and walk hand in hand.” Max looked into Blaster's eyes and wanted to find those strings to make his home much easier for a teenager to find his way into adulthood.

Mr. B. I'm a C.B... Well, I used to be a C.B. I'll explain in a minute what a C.B. is. Last year in school, I met a guy that told me how I could have some fantastic fun with my computer on the Internet, and it wouldn't cost anything. You need to be able to talk to other people in Facebook. You know... send short messages. Well, I learned about a girl in my school that was on Facebook a whole lot.”

I'll keep this story short. I began sending funny rumors to her group of friends in Facebook and I could start making a difference in her attitude. See, this can all be done, anonymously... fake names, and all that. Anyhow, I'd see her in the hallways and some classes and tell I was really stirring her up. It started out just as a game. I wanted to see if it really worked like this guy said it would.” Blaster and Max took another drink of pop and glanced at the progress of the sailboat, with its tall proud white sail.

But Mr. B. I don't know exactly what made me do it, maybe it was all the stress at home, but I began sending mean rumors about her to her Facebook friends, that she would also see. I'd sit at my laptop in my bedroom and visualize her squirming like I do every minute I'm at home. This girl couldn't tell her parents that a Cyber Bully was taring her life apart. Because the minute she did, her parents would take her cell phone away and clamp down on her computing. She couldn't stay away from Facebook social networking 'cuz that was about the only friends she had.”

Now, Blaster. You may not understand this, but I was feeling a little like a god. Because as a C.B., a cyberbully, I could control someone, like I wished I could control my bickering parents.”

Max took another long deep breath and rotated to face Blaster, straight on. “Mr. B. This has got way out of hand. The girl began loosing weight and looked like she didn't sleep 2 hours a week. After a while, I didn't see her at school, anymore. I'm tellin' ya. I feel so guilty; so dirty in what I've done. It's like the pain and stress that I saw in my parents, and that I spilled onto that girl, in Facebook, has rebounded back at me in full force.”

Blaster. I want to ask a big favor of you. I want you to talk to your silver-haired friends and warn them about Cyberbullying and to try so much harder to make connections with the tender-hearted girls struggling with growing up, AND the terrible danger that can be done by playing around someone's feelings in Facebook, or anywhere else. But it's super important that you don't use my name, in what you teach them. OK?”

Blaster Jackson was so overcome with compassion, two large arms that so often carried cases of dynamite into the coal mines, reach out and wrapped around the 16 year old young man. It seemed like an eternity before they both settled back against the tree, enjoying the cool fresh breeze, somehow feeling a load; an inside load, had been lifted to the surface of sharing.

Like a magnet, the tall white sail drew the stare of both Max and Blaster. Blaster spoke in a gentle tone, “Isn't it great that God made that sailboat do what it was designed to do? I mean, it floats on top of the water, and at the same time is powered by the breeze. Max, you and I can't see the breeze, but we both know it's there, don't we? Well, there are many things God has given us, too wonderful for us to see. Let's start opening our eyes – our heart-eyes, travel a little slower – like that sailboat, and we'll both notice other good stuff God has for us.”