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.”