Saturday, May 28, 2011


Invariably it happens. You are sitting with friends, reminiscing and you cannot for the life of you remember the correct name of the face pictured in your mind. You're sure it starts with an "R", and so you throw out a whole bunch of names that begin with the letter--only to find out later on {if it does ever come to you} that the name really began with an "L"

Or perhaps you're by yourself, lost in thought meandering through the corridors of your memory, when you realize that you forgot so and so's name! But you can picture the way they talked, dressed--everything! Except of course, for their name. You rack your brain, trying to think of names that "match" the person--but alas, no inspiration strikes you. So you try to think deeper. You push everything out of your mind until you only see this person and you try, oh-so-hard to remember. The name seems to be floating, just out of reach. It's on the tip of your memory bank. You strain to catch--you've almost got it and you don't want to give up. But the more you think on it, the name begins to slip away and you have a distinct feeling you left your friend behind.

That is my predicament at this precise moment. Several years ago, I had the privilege of working with a young boy--first on my Gary bus route, and then my bus route in Black Oak. During the spring of my first year on bus, I remember tragedy striking this family. A guy came to the front door of their house, and when the mother opened it, he shot and killed her. All in the presence of the 3 kids--2 boys and a girl. I didn't see them again until my junior year and the kids had changed so much. The youngest boy was on so much medication {I'm not sure if it was b/c he was autistic, or because the grandmother couldn't handle him and so he was doped up} that at 6 years of age he must have weighed close to 200lbs. if not more. My heart went out to him because it seemed he was getting lost in the shuffle of life. I remember in our Shepherds class {good times with Mrs. K} he would sometimes fall asleep in his chair...and then we would have move to the floor so he would have more ease in breathing. When he got hyper and started running--oh boy! He could bowl anyone over. There was no stopping him when he put his beefy arms around you--squeezing in love...even though, my heart always filled with love for him--and still does. I often wonder how he is now. If he still comes to church.

I wonder, hope, and pray.

Oh, and his name has come back to me. My sweet boy, Russell.

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