=09 WHEELS AND BROKEN WINGS

It was one of those things that can only happen by God's hand. This Saturday was like that. Knee was playing with his paper airplane and cardboard airport on the church front lawn. His mom, Mrs. Miah began baking some cookies in the church annex kitchen. How odd. In all of her life, this was the first time she was baking cookies for no clear reason. But the efforts warmed her heart.
She kept thinking about Noah's statement that he and other teens have no directions that come with compassion. It seemed adults couldn't say one sentence to them without stern looks and “don't do that!” or “Stop doing that!”

Like a flash of lightning from heaven, Mrs. Miah had her answer. She went directly to the outside door of the annex and spotted her son Dean and his new teenage friend, Noah.” She spoke loudly, with an excited tone, “Boys! Can you come here? I need your hope for a minute!” They came immediately, following the fresh cookie smells as she led the way to the kitchen and two settings of milk and fresh baked cookies.

Noah was polite and quiet. He knew to bow his head as Dean's mom began with, “Dear Jesus. Thank you for milk and cookies, and thank you for Dean's new friend, Noah.” After a couple bites of cookie and swallows of milk by the boys, she said to Noah, “Noah. Thank you so much for your saving my son with his bad knee – from the gravel spill. Dean really treasures your shirt you wrapped around his knee. I was thinking it'll be tough to persuade my son to give you back your shirt, so I got two shirts from the store in your size – as a gift of love from our family to you. One shirt is a summer shirt and the other is a warm winter shirt.”

With a warm quiet smile, Noah held both shirt packages to his chest. His heart began to wash away his feelings of being worthless – of being a Noah Count. More milk and cookies disappeared as smiles grew bigger. “Well, fellas. I tried to make some cookie shapes that would be like airplanes but I don't think they worked so well. These round cookies could be wheels with the spokes. I made these T shaped cookies but they don't quite look like airplanes. Both boys agreed they tasted great, anyhow.
About the time the last sheet of cookies came out of the oven, someone knocked at the annex door. Mrs. Miah went to see who knocked – since noone ever knocks – they usually just walk in. At the door was a teen that looked about the same age as Noah, but had a ring in each ear and partially green hair. He was invited in to try some airplane cookies and he politely followed.

As the green hair entered the kitchen Noah recognized his somewhat familiar friend, and said, “Hi ya, Sam! Ya gotta try these cookies.” “Well... I'll try one. I don't wanna put anybody out. I just came to bring ya this.” He softly set a model airplane on the table. Its got a busted wing, but I tried to tape it. I was thinking maybe you could use it with your cardboard airport I saw you messing with a couple days ago.”

Mrs. Miah smiled to herself seeing before her how cookies have become great medicine for broken spirits and stormy skies, today and many days gone by.

“Thanks mam for the cookies and friendship. My name's Sam – actually Sam Jr. My dad's name was Sam too. Some have called me Sam's son, that sounds like Samson. I want to work hard and help people that are worse off than I am. I know my clothes don't look like much but I want to help people so they will tell me 'thank you' and mean it.”

How is it that paper airplanes and cookies can bring together in the same room, Noah, Knee Miah, and Samson? Her thoughts were interrupted when her son Knee Miah said, “Mom look. These T shaped cookies might look like airplanes, but I think they look more like the Cross that Jesus died on!”
Directions out from stormy skies and broken dreams are being given at a kitchen table of cookies.