Help that boy, God. You know the one. The kid who wore hunter’s camouflage in the Mexican restaurant. Who sat in the booth behind me.
He was there for a birthday party with all his towhead friends.
A girl his age asked him, “Have you ever even BEEN hunting, dork?”
What a first-class snot-bowl she was.
The boy answered, “No. But one day, my dad’s GONNA take me.”
“Oh yeah?” the girl said. “My mom says your dad lives in Tennessee, and that you’ve never even met him.”
“So?” he said. “He would take me if he knew me.”
Look God, I don’t ask for much. But for the love of you, find someone to take that child into the woods.
He’s already got camo clothing.
Also: if you have time, don’t forget about the girl I saw outside the department store. She had crutches—the kind strapped to her forearms.
“Go shopping without me, Mom,” the girl said. “My legs hurt. I’ll wait here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the woman answered. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t have to shop, let’s go home.”
The girl said, “NO MOM. You NEVER get to do anything fun because of ME. Please go?”
The mother reluctantly agreed and went into the store. The girl sat on a bench and cried.
I know you saw that, Lord.
Listen, I know you’ve got a lot going on this season—especially with the Peach Bowl coming up. But please do something for her. Anything. You can send me the bill.
Something else before I leave:
Help the grandmother who kicked her rowdy granddaughter out. I’m sure she feels guilty about it, but she had to. The girl’s mixed up in hard drugs and harder living.
Heaven knows where that kid will end up. But then, I guess you do know. Just give her a quick miracle or two, that’s all I ask. Do it because that poor grandmother has nobody else.
I’m counting on you, Big Guy. Because there are too many folks strung out, crying, dying, and sad.
Yesterday, I saw a live nativity scene in front of a Methodist church. A small choir of kids stood by the manger, singing. Pedestrians gathered to sip cocoa and watch, talking about what a terrific season they’re having.
It was sweet. But Christmas is more than cute kids playing dress-up.
So here’s your chance, Lord, to remind people what giving a damn looks like. You don’t have to do anything big. It can be small. But I’m begging you from the bottom of my pea-picking heart, if you don’t do anything else this year…
Take that child hunting.