tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72337175566598875382024-03-12T17:02:35.672-07:00Scrap 'n Screwdriver MissionsBlaster and the Silver-Top Seniors Group Reaching Out to Teens.Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-77035705924084551782011-10-30T17:47:00.000-07:002011-12-05T21:18:26.758-08:00#0. The Adventure Begins<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Scrap 'n Screwdriver
Missions is a guide</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">for mature adults to reach out to teens</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">in a
'Lead From Behind' mode.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">While we spend some time
turning scrap</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">into missionary kits, we're really about</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">building a
bridge of compassion and </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">understanding to lead hurting confused</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">teens
to Heaven's FULL JOY.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">These resources are provided for your use and allow
for no blame, for any reason, to be directed toward Work.Space
Programming, their authors, or the facility that stores and shares these
resources</span></span>. <br />
</div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-82665588852779798252011-10-22T15:01:00.000-07:002011-11-07T17:49:15.177-08:00#1. Achin' For Teens<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">My
heart aches for teens.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I'll
say it again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">My
heart aches for teens.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">As
a 70+ grandfather topped with silver hair and always with my cane,
(and emergency cell phone) I have pain that goes deeper than my arthritis and
other body pain. When my thoughts focus on teens today, my inward
pain overshadows my body's cries for attention.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">In unmistakable ways, bodily pain and spiritual pain clammer for my
attention and action. But which do I attend first? And does that
remedy require pills or a process, or maybe a person?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">From
the lips of others, and sometimes me too, the labored questions come:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">“God
are you doing this to me? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">How long is this pain going to last? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Do you
enjoy allowing pain in people? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Have I done something to make you
angry? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Why do Christians that faithfully love and serve You, suffer
pain and imprisoning in unspeakable conditions? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Why God?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I
want to reach out to teens. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I
know that I don't know. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I
don't know all the reasons why teens act in such extreme ways that
sometimes scare me and my family. I picture the range of youth
struggling with pain rather like an iceberg. By far, the largest part
of an iceberg is under the surface and not noticed at first glance.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">This
I do know. God has placed an ongoing burden; a present daily
heartache that moves me to sharing God's love and bone-deep comfort
with youth all around me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">It'd
be so easy for me to turn my silver-topped head the other way and
pretend life for teens is unfixable, except for a group of verses that
tell me (and you) how to achieve, not joy, but FULL JOY. One of the
attributes of this FULL JOY is that it surpasses our ability to describe
it with words. Does this sound too good to be real? It's right in black
and white, that God led Peter to record for us... 1Peter 1:8.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Let's learn of that teen world and how God will enable us to build a strong bridge from Teenage Pain to Full Joy Unspeakable.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-45846621750096268302011-10-21T15:02:00.000-07:002011-11-07T15:12:46.818-08:00#2. The Blaster<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The warning – in a minute.</span>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Seeing
as how we as silver-haired seniors are learning about teenagers and
how to reach out to them, we must, with caution, include here the
lesson we learned from the Blaster.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">As
car doors were closing, members and friends of the Silver-Top Seniors
group were entering the activity center and whispering warnings along
the way. The warnings were all variations of, “Be on your guard
tonight. 'Blaster' Jackson is leading our fellowship tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">No
one really knew what Blaster's real first name was, nor did they have
any courage to ask. Blaster got his nickname in the coal mines, he
worked in most of his life. He was the person that always set off the
dynamite charges.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
way Blaster talked loud and sometimes with a bit of confusion, you'd
ask yourself if Blaster had been standing too close to his work, a
few times. Entering the activity room the first thing to be seen was
a long folding table with full coffee makers and a bowl of tea bags
sitting near a large thermos of hot water. They were all lined up
ready for action, like rifles and hand grenades along the wall of an
army barracks.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
same muffled warnings were still being shared as the 40 or so, men
and women took their seats; three were in wheel chairs. One thing was
crystal clear in the minds of everyone, was the war these
silver-haired soldiers (for the Savior) have declared, to recapture
the minds and hearts of the youth of the community, especially the
teenagers.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">When
the announcements, thank-you's, and other customary preliminaries
were finished, Blaster Jackson stood straight and tall. His frayed
shirt sleeve almost covered the 3-inch scar on his left wrist.
Peeking just over his shirt collar was a neck tattoo that said,
“MOM.” An unkind rumor started at the barber shop a couple years
ago that the rest of the tattoo probably said, “MOM loves me, 'cuz
no one else will.” It's just a rumor, you understand.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
room got quiet as a graveyard as Blaster walked up to one of the men
at a front table. In a stern tone, Blaster asked him, “Whad you
want?” Without time to answer, Blaster asked again, “You came
here tonight, whad you want?” Again, not waiting for an answer, his
eyes beneath large bristly black eyebrows looked toward Donna
Benning. Without a word, Blaster's eyes asked Donna the question with
such force she almost dropped her coffee cup.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">He
returned to the front of the room and lightly tapped the table he
stood next to, a few times, thinking of his next words. In a softer
look and tone, he scanned the faces of all his audience, beginning
with, “Whaddah we want? Everyplace we go, whether it's into the
kitchen, the hardware store, doctor, or even here tonight. We know
what we want. We mostly know where to get it, and even why.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">With
more gentleness than you'd expect possible from Blaster, he slowly
walked among the tables as he spoke to everyone, often repeating the
question, “Whaddah we want?” “Oftentimes I'd be working in the
mine tunnels so dark; so black, you'd think God's eyes couldn't see
me, down there. But you and I know He did, and He does, every moment.
Can you imagine darkness so intense, you can almost taste it, with
your tongue?” </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I
can still remember once, in shaft #14, it was black like that. The
battery on my cap lamp was just about gone. I was all alone. I pushed
the plunger to set off the blast, but realized I didn't know which
way to run. I didn't know where my safe spot was. Maybe you've had a
moment, when you didn't know where to run for safety; or even if
there was such a safety place for you. Isn't it wonderful to have
friends and loved-ones we can run to, that lovingly tell you, “Come
follow me. I'll show you perfect safety.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">With
muscled arms and large calloused fingers, Blaster pointed at the
double entry doors and said, “Those teenagers out there will be our
leaders tomorrow. They'll be making decisions that'll affect you and
me.” Blaster Jackson tapped a nearby table a few more times, giving
serious thought to his next few words. His gaze covered all the faces
present and began, “With a nickname like 'Blaster', you'd think I'm
tough and cold about everything. But it ain't so.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">This
last week, I took a teen boy for cokes, and I'll never NEVER forget
what I saw across the table from me. I looked into the eyes of a teen
that were as dark and confused and distressed as anything I've ever seen in shaft
14 or any of um! Just like many of you, I've got Arthritis that pains
me somethin' terrible." </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">"But people, what pains me even more is there
are so very few grownups that care enough about teenagers around us,
willing to take the first steps to tell a teen, 'Come follow me.
I'll show you perfect safety.' It makes things even blacker to think
that church folks CHURCH FOLKS don't know how or don't care to reach
out with God's light of truth and peace.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
[<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">more
from Blaster next time.] </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-81364840053427736622011-10-20T15:03:00.000-07:002011-11-07T15:13:05.945-08:00#3. You Silver-Tops Are Perfect!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">With
every pair of eyes of the Silver-Top Seniors group focused on Blaster
Jackson, his continuing words poured from a tender heart. His burden
for reaching out to teenagers with God's promise of peace and purpose
in these chaotic technology-flooded times caught everyone off guard.
The mood of the room of 40 or so people forced open the hearts of
Blaster's listeners and began inner cries to join his cause.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Now
I know what cher thinkin'. You're sayin' to yourself, I don't know
much about today's teens. Most of the time I get edgy just being
around them for very long. I think of them as a blood-pumping time
bomb, and I wouldn't know what to do or what not to say. I don't know
a bunch of Bible verses to show the teen. I once heard that some of
them can't read and probably can't write their own name.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;">Blaster
continued his speaking with, “Now if that theres w</span>hat yer
thinkin', you're perfect for the job.” For emphasis, Blaster
lightly clapped his hands together twice. “Do you see, we're a
perfect match! The teens don't have to answer some kind of
interrogation from us, or listen to any rules. All they need to do is
slowly share with us, what their world is like. Do we need to be
ready with lots of Bible verses we figure only a preacher would know?
Absolutely not! We only need to listen with compassion.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Someone
clapped their hands a few times and then spoke up, in halting words.
Beulah Radner said, “Mr. Blaster. I can't do much in this
wheelchair, but I sure can listen! Can I help ya listen? Can I help
ya with the teens? I want God to use me, in whatever way He can.
Would ja let me help? I'll try my best, honest I will.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">History
books record stacks of powerful speeches and catchy phrases, but
Beulah Radner's words most certainly must rank up there with the
best: “I want God to use me, in whatever way He can. Would ja let
me help? I'll try my best, honest I will.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Blaster
Jackson nodded to the group's chairman, Bob Tarpin, and took his
seat. Bob stood to his feet and was so moved by what had been said
and done, he took a drink of water and cleared his throat twice,
before speaking. His beginning words held great praise for Blaster's
presentation and even Beulah's offer to help.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob
began, “Maybe there's some real truth to the 'God gave us two ears
but only one mouth – because He wanted us to do twice as much
listening', rule of thumb. Certainly, God wants us to be super
zealous in our listening, not only to those He has put in our field
of harvest, but firstly to Him and the beats of His heart, often
recorded in His written word.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Before
we have our closing prayer, I want you to try something. When you get
home and prepare for bed, read some scripture, maybe a whole chapter.
Then by yourself, pray with Beulah's thoughts: I want God to use me,
in whatever way He can. Would ja let me help? I'll try my best,
honest I will.' Then spend some quiet time in your prayer, and
practice your listening... listening as Heaven leads you in seeing
your part to play in all that we've been reminded about, tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-30224384683713909662011-10-19T15:06:00.000-07:002011-11-07T15:13:22.996-08:00#4. Plate Pluggin' 'n Shoo-Fly Pie<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">It
was going to be a battle they had fought before, with not very good
results. The two white-headed World War II veterans arrived at Mark
Bond's house with their favorite fishing rods in the back seat. Both
men questioned each other about what a Shoo-Fly pie was like, and was
it something humans would want to eat. Mark happily greeted, “Howdy
fellas! I sure hope you remembered your fishing rods. I'm gonna whop
both of you good!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
two men took a seat on the porch while hearing Mark's warning not to
trip over his two canes leaning over against the porch railing. As
was expected, Pete spoke right up with all the particulars of the
birth of his fourth new grand-baby. Mark and Bates could tell Pete
was as excited about the event as he was about the first one. And
trying to put the skids to Pete's revelation would be about as hard
as storming the beach at Guadalcanal with bombs exploding all around
you.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Shortly
the conversation turned to the events at the recent Silver-Tops
Seniors fellowship, last week. With a bit of a struggle, Mark changed
his posture in the porch swing. Bates asked, “Mark, is that grenade
fragment giving you problems again?” The answer came, “Ya. The
army surgeons said it was too close to my spine and that it'd have to
stay put. They warned that I'd have occasional pain with it, the rest
of my life.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Mark
continued, “That talk that Blaster Jackson gave at 'Silver-Tops'
really spoke to me. Like most of the rest of the audience, I was
really touched by his tenderness about the teens. I didn't think he
had deep feelings, like that; about anything.” Mumbled agreement
came from both Pete and Bates. Mark continued, while rubbing his chin
in a thoughtful way. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">But
what I really connected with, was Blaster's thoughts about the two
kinds of pain. You remember – his physical pain – his Arthritis.
And then, his mental pain – seeing the stress and confusion in the
life of the teen he had cokes with. A buddy of mine had a pump
implanted under his skin to feed medicine when his back pain got so
bad. Scientists have come up with all kinds of wonderful medicines
and technology to help control our physical pain. But they're stopped
cold trying to find something that will deal with that deeper pain;
the mental pain within our spirit.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bates
was never a real talkative person, but spoke up. “Guys. I've
started building a teenage boy – on paper, that is. It always helps
me to write things down and move my thoughts around – get them
sort-of lined up. I can think about things more clearly and pray
better too. I've printed out the list I'm beginning and here's a copy
for each of you.” All three men were looking at their copy of the
list. “I want both of you to tell me stuff that could probably be added,
to help build 'our teenage boy'; on paper, that is.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
beginning list already included statements like, “1. unlike girls,
boys enjoy loud, messy, flashy outside events, especially if a
contest or food is involved. 2. boys are far more independent and
want to establish their own rules, rather than being controlled by
teachers, parents, and other authorities. 3. fashion and first
impressions are rarely close to the top of a boy's to-do list. 4.
boys have begun the lifelong battle to try to understand the reasons
for the actions of those other soft-speaking teens that wear frilly
dresses, and matching ribbons in their hair.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Pete
suggested another teen boy note: “teen boys are often seen playing
hand-held video games. And I'm thinking the ever-present gaming may be cover-ups for
painful family circumstances or the absence of a true friend that
deeply cares about the boy's hurts – physical or especially
mental/spiritual.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
men grabbed their fishing rods and headed for the backyard battle,
still wondering what a Shoo-Fly Pie was. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Each
of the trio was seated in a chair, facing an aluminum pie plate about
30 feet in front of them. As directed by yesterday's phone call
invitation, a casting plug was attached where a fish hook was usually
found. The obvious task was to carefully cast your plug into the pie
plate, without getting it tangled in the low-hanging tree limbs. Mark
explained, “The first one who mistakenly gets tangled in the tree
limb, has to be the first to taste my Dixie's Shoo-Fly Pie. You both
already know that she likes to experiment with new pie recipes, and
this one, I have some real questions about.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
first taster of Dixie's new creation, we'll learn about later. A
Shoo-Fly pie is made with sweet crumbs and molasses. Evidently the
flies love 'em.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-39929666387962412782011-10-18T15:07:00.000-07:002011-11-07T15:13:55.841-08:00#5. I'm a C.B. MAX<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
next hour would change Blaster's life forever.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">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.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-51171302623154477492011-10-16T15:10:00.000-07:002011-11-07T15:14:13.252-08:00#6. Isn't Worth Nothin'<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
annoying phone rang for the third time in the last hour. Hattie was
at the grocery store, so Blaster Jackson (her husband) was stuck with answering the
thing. If it wasn't for the hip problems Hattie has been having
lately, he'd think seriously about unplugging the noisy phone for
most of each day. This time he was glad he answered it, and with just
a twinge of courtesy too.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
phone receiver said, “Hi Mr. B. This is Max. You know Max Litton.
How you doin'?” “Not too bad, Max. This stormy weather coming in,
is sure stirring up my aching bones. But... I guess it's better than
never having any pain at all.” Blaster's statement wasn't meant to
be a hook, but that's exactly what it did. “Well, how you getting
along, young man? And I want to really know. You've been on my mind a
whole lot since we had cokes at the lake. I wasn't going to say
anything, but I think some tree ants took a shortcut down through my
shirt.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
reason I called, Mr. B, is to tell you how so very much I treasure
our time together in your busy schedule. It means a whole lot that
you listen to my hurts and don't jump on me for all the stupid
choices I've made before. Well, anyhow, I was wonderin' if I could
sort-of pay you back by picking up sticks in your yard, or something
that'd save you from having to bend over a lot. I could come
anytime... anytime I'm not in school.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Blaster's
mind raced to find the answer to the question immediately shouting to
his soul. The simple question is why is this troubled teen, full of
pain in his spirit and soul, caring about my aching back muscles? Is
pain (in any form) some kind of magnet that draws two quite different
generations together? Is there some kind of two-way compassion going
on. Is pain some kind of language that needs no alphabet or polished
grammar? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Almost
without testing the thought, Mr. B. asked the 16 yr old Max. “Max.
I was just wondering. Some of us older people are taring apart old
computers and using the parts to make teaching toolkits for
missionaries. And we've got 32 old computers that need to be taken
apart. Maybe, if you were free next Saturday, you'd like to help us.
I'd provide the transportation, and I'll bet I could find a pizza
that needs our taste test. How about it?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Sounds
fantastic!” was the reply in the phone receiver. The silver-haired
coal mine blaster felt like it was his birthday, and he was about to
open the biggest best present of them all. Little did he realize that
orange hair was to be part of that present.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Saturday
morning promised to be a bright sun-shiny day. Blaster Jackson was
just finishing loading some needed tools in Nothin'. Around the
garage rode Max Litton, pulled to a stop and almost dropped his bike.
But right behind him was another boy in his middle teens, with orange
hair the color of beautiful Autumn leaves. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Mr.
B. When I started telling Duke here, about how great I feel when you
listen to me, he said right away, he wanted to come along, and just
maybe, you'd let him help us with the computer trash.” Blaster
didn't know how this was going to wind up, but said, “Great. Get
your bikes loaded into Nothin' then we'll be about ready to leave.
I'll be able to drop you both off at your homes when we're done.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Duke
always suspected old folks were a little strange – even more than
his orange hair, but he asked anyway. “Mr. Jackson, ummm. How do we
load our bikes in nothin'?” Blaster smiled at the boy's confusion.
“Well, Duke. First off, I'd really prefer you call me Gramps.
Second, I named my pickup truck, Nothin'. My wife Hattie always tells
me, that ol' rattlin' bucket of rust, isn't worth nothin'. So I
decided that's what I'll call it, Nothin'.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">If
Gramps could have read the minds of the two teens, he'd hear them
thinking they ought to call themselves, Nothin'; I'm a teen not worth
nothin'. I'm just a bucket of painful stress not knowing where I'm
headed. Duke wondered if God, wherever He is, cares anything about
orange hair. Maybe when He looks down from heaven, His gaze doesn't
get past my orange hair... 'cuz that's sure what people do.</span></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-43977063770871446672011-10-15T17:52:00.000-07:002011-11-07T17:54:50.359-08:00#7. Fishing 'n Feeling<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
two teens, Max and Duke, got the tools out of Nothin' (Gramps' old
pickup truck) and followed silver-haired Gramps (that's Blaster
Jackson) into the activity hall. The three continued on into a back
room, where two long tables were holding a couple computers partially
dismantled. In the corner were three stacks of computers about 6 feet
high.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">On
the walls of the store room were some posters, that included images
of teens, and adults teaching teens in casual settings. One poster
showed a simple map outline of Mexico with the bold wording, “Tech
Trash for Mexico Teens”.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Max
and Duke immediately began to relax in spirit. Even before any words
were spoken, they both sensed this was a real hands-on place. The
spirit of the room seemed to say, “hey guys, let's do it!. Forget
the talk, just jump in!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">While
Gramps began teaching a bit of preliminary things to consider, both
boys were itching to grab the tools and start ripping into the
computer boxes. Gramps was explaining the purpose of dismantling
the computers and all the safety tips to remember. It included all
the warnings about (1) sharp edges of the metal brackets, (2)don't
put your hands on your face until you've washed your hands and the
computer parts have been disinfected with the spray can.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Max
raised his hand to get Mr. B's attention. “Gramps, I've been
listening good, honest I have. But that poster over there is bugging
me no end. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but whoever drew that
poster got the words wrong. See? It says, ' Study to be quiet...'
then 'that you might lack for nothing.'” Almost like Gramps had
heard the question before, he casually walked toward an open Bible
over on a small corner table in the room they were working. Max
finished his question, “I think the words were supposed to read 'be
quiet to study'. Like being quiet in a library or when you're
fishing.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps
rubbed his chin, thinking over his answer. “Max. You are really
sharp today. You noticed our 'quiet' poster, and its odd wording.
You're absolutely right! That sign would be worded wrong if it was
referring to 'fishing quiet'. But let's say it this way. There are
two kinds of quiet.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Duke
(he's the one with the orange hair), “Whoa now Gramps. Ya lost me
there...two kinds of quiet?” Gramps replied, “Yes Duke. Two kinds
of quiet. There is 'inside' quiet and 'outside' quiet. The inside
quiet of this poster reminds us of the importance of quiet inside our
self; in our mind and in our heart. Having a quiet spirit inside our
self is far more important than outside quiet, that fishing quiet you
mentioned. But for sure, both used together is just what God wants of
us.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Just
then Mark Bond, the vet with the spinal grenade fragment, came in the
room with both canes helping him walk. He said, “Fishing! Did I
hear the word fishing? I love fishing! I especially love the quiet
challenge of outthinking that fish,” he said with a big grin. Maybe
it's a coincidence, maybe not, but I just finished a little planning
meeting in the other room with Bob Tarpin and a few of the members of
our Silver-Tops Seniors group. We've planned a little fishing fun
next week at Snyder's Pay Lake. Blaster, (that's Gramps) we want to
have you and your young friends to come. They can each bring two
other friends apiece. Silver-Tops will pay for the entrance, bait,
and burgers.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Later
that day, Mark's phone call explained to Gramps, the real purpose for
the Fishing Fun day. It wasn't fishing for fish, but fishing for deep
fellowship with the teen generation and their missing inner quiet
that the poster referred to. There was plenty of shaded areas at
Snyders, that seniors could minister to their youth. </span>
</div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-70869878312394417702011-10-13T17:56:00.000-07:002011-11-07T17:56:54.056-08:00#8. Orders Are Needed<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
teens, Max and Duke busied themselves following the instructions
they'd just been given on dismantling the computer boxes, remembering
all the warnings. While you fellas are gutting those computers in
front of you, I want to teach you something that will put loads of
fun into your life, squeezing out lots of the stress we all have to
deal with. It has to do with order.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Blaster,
(I mean Gramps) walked to a nearby marker board and picked up a
marker, checking to see if it still had some life in it. He wrote in
bold letters at the top of the board, “ORDER”. “Fellas, our
word for the day, sort-of, is ORDER. You and I hear orders put to us
far more than we like it. 'Do this.' 'Do that.' 'Ya better clean
your room before dad gets home.' If you don't have that report on my
desk by 3 pm today, you won't like what happens next.'”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Our
first type of order is like a command – 'do this or else...'”
Gramps wrote the word COMMAND below the bold word ORDER. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Our
second type of order is to purchase or obtain something – 'We'll
order pizzas, later'.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
third type of order is the way scientists group plants and animals
and stuff. They group by family, order, species, etc.'” The words
PURCHASE and GROUPING were written below the word COMMAND.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps
continued teaching while the teens made good use of screwdrivers on
the computer scrap. Our fourth type of order we'll call QUIET. Do you
remember, we've already begun learning about that kind of quiet.
We'll be learning more more about the those two kinds of quiet;
inside quiet and outside quiet, as we go along.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Our
fifth type of ORDER is the arrangement of things we have and do. It's
what we think of when we get up in the morning... well, first get my
clothes on, grab something quick to eat and then... This is what
people are referring to, when they tell you, 'Don't get your cart
before the horse.' Do you remember how we started out this morning?
First we prayed and asked God to direct us, then we covered a few
safety tips, and then we went to work. I'll add the words QUIET and
ARRANGEMENT to our ORDER list here on the board.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Did
you two know the Bible tells us how to take computers apart? It
certainly does. While you're working, I show you in our computer
'how-to' manual, here. Yeah, I know we also call it the Bible.”
Gramps quickly turned to 1Corinthians 14:40. He slid the Bible over
in front of the teens and said, “see here? It says 'Let all things
be done decently and in order.' In another place it says, 'Seek ye
first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things
shall be added unto you.' Some other day we'll talk about the
building instructions for a guy that was going to build a tower.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">But
it's how we arrange things that is so important. Whether we're
storing computer pictures in this folder or that folder or the way
you both are putting all the screws in this jar and the small cables
in that box over there. It truly is calming to our minds and hearts
to begin getting things sorted out, in our minds. First thing to do,
is to decide what you really want – down deep. Way down where a
part of you always stays, and the first to say 'good morning' to your
mind, in the morning. Max and Duke, lock at me a minute.” They did.
“Fellas, God has given us a whole toolbox of things we can get our
hearts sorted out and do great work for Him. But He only asks that
you put Him first, on your daily 'to-do list', and the top spot on
your list of what and who you love. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-43788707042481457002011-10-12T07:02:00.000-07:002011-11-09T07:03:11.919-08:00#9. Silent Seniors<br />
<b>“</b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;"><b>Was
he going to keel over or not?”</b> That was the question many of
the attendees of the Silver-Tops Seniors Soup Supper were asking
themselves as they watched Blaster, (that's Gramps) take his first
few bites of Dixie's Shoo-Fly Pie. Gramps lived, and enjoyed the rest
of his pie, while others tried a slice for themselves. The group of
40 or so seniors had gathered for a bit of a training session
everyone needed to effectively reach out to the teens God had placed
in their harvest field of souls.</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">As
most everyone was done eating, their chairman, Bob Tarpin walked to
the front of the group and tapped a water glass with a spoon to get
everyone's attention. Bob asked everyone to bow for prayer, asking
God to bless and lead the following discussion. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">He
began with, “Thank you for all of you coming, and the ladies that
prepared the soup and sandwiches... including the Shoo-Fly pie,” he
said with a big smile. It's important that we make sure we're all on
the same page and are sharing our own ideas and opportunities. With
what we are reaching out with, Satan is certainly going to try to
destroy. Our unity is so crucial.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I
want to thank Blaster Jackson for the very moving presentation we had
last time. I really sensed that all of you want what Beulah spoke up
about. To help out in any way God can use each of us.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob
picked up a dry erase marker and drew a large triangle on the white
board behind him, in the orientation of a pyramid. He began, “We
see many examples of the triangle providing strength and also unity
in objects large and small, and trios too. Here at the bottom left of
our triangle we'll put, 'Hurting Teens'. To the right we'll write,
'Silent Seniors'. And then at the top of our triangle of strength and
unity, we'll put 'Full Joy'.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Our
plan is to build a bridge of understanding and compassion, as God
leads us, between ourselves and the teenagers. This done decently and
in order as 1Corinthians 14:40 reminds us, will move us both to
possess Full Joy.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">You'll
notice in our triangle diagram, I refer to our white-haired
generation as SILENT SENIORS. I believe that as you and I begin to
reach out to the teens, in prayer and action, I'm confident that God
will show us powerful ways to connect with those we mentor; ways we
never thought of. I also expect each of us will enthusiastically
share and encourage each other, one on one, and also in our group
meetings here.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Before
I tell you one of the key ingredients to this process toward Full
Joy, I want us to use the remainder of this meeting time to begin
sharing our own ideas, and thoughts on how this can all happen. What
I'd like us all to do, is break up into groups of 4, where no two
family members is in the same group. Next, I want each group to pray
as a group and then elect a secretary to record all the great ideas
you'll be coming up with.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">It
might even be a great help to choose a particular teen you know, or
one you can visualize and give thought how you can reach out to them
without preaching AT them or ruling OVER them.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob
continued, “Oh. By the way. You'll want to pray for the teen
fishing event our men and women are having at Snyder's Pay Lake this
Saturday, at 1:30pm. We all want the efforts of burdened adults that
will be fishing for men and ladies, using worms, minnows, and tears,
to be blessed by God. It would be well for each of us to review Psalm 126, in our quiet time. And especially the last verse.” </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob grinned with one of those expressions
where the cheeks and lips gave a smile, but the eyes said this is
very serious business for the Lord and the eternal destiny of hurting
teens. Do your best. Jesus did His best on Calvary for each of us. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-53525642396968390542011-10-11T19:57:00.000-07:002011-11-10T19:58:55.449-08:00#10. Catfish 'n Candy Bar<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Saturday
Morning, the two teen boys and Gramps were bouncing down the road in
Nothin'. The boys remembered that Nothin' was the nickname of
this old pickup truck that most folks didn't think it was worth
nothin'. Duke was careful to keep his foot on the piece of plywood
that covered the open place in the floor... mud puddles can get
messy. </span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Silver-haired
Gramps headed Nothin' down a rough dirt road toward Snyder's Pay
Lake. The talk in the truck was always full of excitement and
expectation. Max told his fish joke about the Catfish 'n Candy Bar.
It was one of those fish stories not quite worth writing home about,
but he got a couple chuckles out of his two companions. The two teens
talked a little about school activity, including the history tests
ol' Mrs. Grudy gives. They're murder.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps
spoke to the boys while watching the rough road ahead. “Boys. I've
heard a lot of strange fishing stories in my time, but the strangest
one, I suppose is one that no fishing poles, string, or hooks were
used. Oddly enough, it almost cost the lives of everyone in the boat.
The gist of it, as I remember is this guy was riding in this boat and
the whole crew threw him overboard. Now here's where this turns
strange. When this guy landed in the water some kind of a fish, or
maybe a shark, swallowed him. Two or three days later this fish spit
this guy out on shore. The guy got up and walked away. Strange, huh?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps
hardly took a breath before he started explaining some of the rules
to be observed at Snyder's Pay Lake, just a little farther down the
bumpy road, that is, if Nothin' will hold together. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
teens grabbed their fishing tackle and headed for spots they were
sure some hungry fish or two, were waiting to taste their bait...
which was not a candy bar. While the boys were fishing Gramps was
gathering a few things in an area approved to build a camp fire and
have a great time. Blaster Jackson (that's Gramps) was quietly
praying as hard as he could for the boys and this fishing time.
Gramps continually prayed something like, “Lord, I've started the
Jonah story and cast it upon the waters of imagination and curiosity
of the boys. I'm asking you to use the story as bait to draw their
hearts close to you and their need for salvation and your peace and
even Full Joy.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">About
half an hour before Gramps had planned for their lunch, Max walked
over to Gramps with a confused look. He said, “Gramps I can't fish
right now. I stare at my fishing line and think about your strange
fish story, and it's bugging me awful. Will you tell me the meaning
of the story? I know enough about you and your burden for us teens
and all our inner stress. So I know you got something good hidden in
the story. Tell me please, 'cuz I won't be able to think of anything
else the rest of the day. Please?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps
motioned Max to follow him a couple steps away from the campfire
area, but yet easy to be seen by others fishing at the lake. Gramps
looked both ways, in a shifty way, like he was about to pass on some
military secrets. He looked directly at Max and said, “I'll tell
you the rest of the story, if you'll promise to share the story with
at least one other person, as best as you can. Agreed?” Max's nod
sealed the bargain. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">The
old gentleman began, “Well God had told this guy to do something
very important, He was supposed to go to this great big town and tell
everybody how much God loves each of them. But see, this guy didn't
think it was a good idea, so he got on this boat and headed in the
other direction. Now since this guy on board this ship wasn't obeying
God, the ship got in a big storm and almost sank. They threw most
stuff overboard. Finally this guy was honest with the captain and
said, 'I'm the reason God is about to sink your ship.' He tells the
captain to throw him overboard and everybody will live.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Well
that's what happened, Max. Now the strange and wonderful part of the
story is that God had prepared a big fish at the right time and the
right place to save this guy that had been disobedient, but was now
being honest with himself and God. Now I know that only God has the
power to keep this guy alive inside that fish, until he got spit up
on dry land.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I'm
sure that guy had learned for sure not to disobey God, especially
when He wants others to know about how He can save them for eternity,
to live with Him in Heaven. Max, what I've told you is not a story at
all. It's a real piece of history, that you can read for yourself.
Oh, you'll want to know the guy's name was Jonah. The town that
learned about God's deep abiding love is named, Nineveh.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">A
couple days later, Blaster's phone rang, as it so often does.
Blaster's wife Hattie, shouted, “Blaster, someone called and wants
to talk to you!” He took the phone from Hattie and spoke, “This
is Blaster. Whatcha need?” The voice in the phone said, “Gramps,
I told the Jonah fish story to Duke and he said the strangest thing.
Gramps. Duke said, 'Ya know, Max. I feel a whole lot like I'm a
Jonah, not being honest with God, and going the wrong way to find
happiness and risking the lives of people around me.'”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Max's
voice in the phone became noticeably humble in asking, “Gramps. If
Duke and I was to come over, sometime after school, would you explain
to Duke and me how to keep from being thrown overboard by God?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Tears
almost appeared in the eyes of the old coalmine dynamite blaster as
he realized God wants us to go fishing for those He loves. No license
is needed, and there's no limit. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-70213830912673697102011-10-10T08:38:00.000-07:002011-11-12T08:41:45.929-08:00#11. Izzy Helps Out<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob Tarpin and his wife were
just finishing the hanging of 4 more posters along one wall of the
Silver-Top Seniors activity room. Most of the posters featured happy
faces of youth while some showed some senior couples with almost as
much white hair as Bob and his wife Betty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Four themes were clearly
presented:</span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Teens today are really
hurting inside, with no-one wanting to care about them.</span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Faith-based groups were
not doing nearly as much as they could – and should.</span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Silver-haired
generation was the most qualified to reach out and mentor them.</span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Scripture is the
premier 'how-to manual' to guide mentors of teens.</span><br />
</li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Bob's wife shared her
thoughts about the youth program called, 'Scrap 'n Screwdriver
Missions'. “Bob, I'm really excited about the connecting up of our
silver-haired generation and the youth. We all realize that to
connect with youth, we have to have some computer flavoring somehow.
But so many of us are afraid of the things. God has made the perfect
link by using broken computers and their parts. More than that, we
don't need to know how computers work and our teens don't either. But
something is bothering me.”</span><br />
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">I don't know if it's just
me or what, but it seems like the program is pretty much gender
one-sided.” Betty (that's Bob's wife), continued with, “Yeah I
know there are a few girl screwdriver jockeys, but I wish God would
show us how to get girls into the program. So many of the girls are
stuck in the middle of social networking on their cellphones, and
hate it. They know it's not satisfying in the long run. Most every
one of them see all this networking is computer quicksand and is
taking away their life and happiness by inches, each day. Bob, I
believe that 2Timothy 3:17 pertains deeply to girls too. Honey, could
we stop with the posters for a couple minutes and ask God what His
plan is?” </span>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Even when you're not around
quicksand, step one of your plan should always be to ask God what His
plan is, and to switch all your plans to following His plan. Why? The
reason is simple and straightforward. His plan is already in motion
and right on His schedule. Do you want a plan that carries you to
victory and FULL JOY? There's no other way. Adopt His will and way
and trust Him every moment. That old black book that begins, “In
the beginning God...” is full of evidence that He is in control in
every situation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Blaster's phone rang with
Beulah wanting to ask Blaster a question about the Scrap 'n
Screwdriver program. “Mr. Jackson. I have a question, I want to ask
you. OK?” Blaster, (that's Gramps), remembered that even though
Beulah was confined to a wheelchair, she still had a real passion for
serving her Savior in whatever way she could.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Gramps asked, “Well,
Beulah, what's your question?” “Well, I have this 19 year old
friend of mine, Isabel Rohas, that's handicapped worse than me, but
she loves Jesus too. She wants to help missionaries tell kids how
much He loves them. Now I was just thinking. You are having some of
the youth take old computers apart to make toolbox teaching kits that
are going to be sent to missionaries in Mexico and other places.
Gramps, maybe there would be a way that Isabel, we call her Izzy,
could help.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Beulah continued with her
idea. “I bet Izzy would be pretty good at translating some of your
stories and directions into Spanish. Maybe you could have a Mexican
pastor check out a couple of her translations to make sure she was
doing a good job. That way lots more kids and Bible teachers could
use your toolkits. See, Izzy is a pen pal with several teens in
Mexico and South America, and she does a good bit of translating into
English when she reads them to me.”</span><br />
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Even though Izzy is
pretty much confined to her bed, she still wants to help. Gramps. I
figure you're better at talking to God than me, so could you ask God
if He could find a way to let Izzy help? If you're too busy, I'll ask
someone else to ask God.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">Friend... </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS,sans-serif;">If you received a telephone
request like this, what would you do after you hung up the phone?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7233717556659887538.post-12940325916536677632011-10-09T18:55:00.000-07:002011-12-06T18:58:49.810-08:00Optional Extensions<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">You may wish to move the Scrap 'n Screwdriver agenda into a workshop aimed at teaching adult mentors how to focus scriptural character principles into the teen. One of many such workshops is:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://jesusasteen.blogspot.com/">JesusasTeen.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>Gramps Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08460487253055175359noreply@blogger.com