=8 LOST IN THE CLOUDS
No one had any idea the surprises that were to appear today, this sunny Saturday. Mrs. Miah and her young son (that's Dean, codenamed Knee Miah) had just one more missions bulletin board to update, in the Junior Church annex of the FIRST CHURCH of HIS WORD. While his mom worked on the bulletin board, Knee sat on the church front steps with his crayons and supersonic paper airplane his dad folded for him. He kept his crayons in a little shaded spot where they wouldn't get soft and melt. Knee wasn't sure exactly why, but he just felt comforted in some way, wearing the ragged shirt the mysterious teenager gave him, as Knee was rescued from his fall in the street, some days before.
His mom checked on him once, saw all was well and returned to her missions board decorating. At the same time, The different colors in Knee's fingers became streamlined shapes on the airplane that all high speed aircraft must have. Knee ran across the church lawn a few times with the airplane held high against the blue sky and cotton candy clouds. But then things turned odd.
Without warning, a teenager in ragged clothes walked across the street toward Knee Miah. He didn't look menacing or troublesome in any way. His face showed a soft attitude that drew your attention away from the two cardboard boxes he was carrying.
Knee recognized the teen as the one that rescued him from the street and carried him to safety. Knee remembered the soft caring words he had heard the teen speak to him that eventful day - “You're OK. I Gotcha! Don't be afraid”. In these moments those words loudly echoed in young Dean's mind and heart. He wanted so badly to hug the teen, but thought it would scare him away. Instead, he quietly sat on the church steps, massaging his bad knee and watched what the teen did.
“How's your knee doing?” asked the teen, as he picked up a crayon and began drawing shapes on one of the boxes. “It's doing pretty well. My mom has to rub smelly stuff on it before I go to bed every night.
What's your name?”
“I'm Noah. The other kids call me 'Noah Count' 'cuz they figure I won't amount to nothin'.” Noah didn't say much more. It was like it pained him to talk about not having much of a home and no family. The teen continued drawing all sorts of square shapes on the cardboard box. After a few moments, Noah said, “There. That should about do it. He looked at his young friend wearing the ragged shirt and said, “That might work for a pretend airport. We can use this tall skinny box for the control tower. We can connect the two boxes together.
The word stabbed the heart of both boys, never to be forgotten. If they both lived to be a hundred, hearing the word “We” used both times, became a glue that instantly bonded them like connecting the two different shaped boxes. Maybe it's not something little boys often think of, but at that moment Knee imagined he could see Jesus smile. It was one of those deep-down things that aren't easy to explain, especially for a young fella like Knee.
Mrs. Miah stuck her head out the church door to check on her son just about the time Noah took her son over just beyond a small bush just a couple feet high. She saw Noah hold the paper airplane hold the airplane behind the bush. “Knee. See where I'm holding the airplane? The bush could be some stormy clouds so that the make-believe pilot can't see the airport and to land.” The younger boy slowly nodded that he was understanding the problem and finally said, “the pilot can't get home and to supper 'cuz he doesn't know what direction to go in.” The teen gave a soft smile with, “You got it.”
Dean's mom was about to close the door and finish her mission board project when she heard the teenager, who's ragged shirt her son was wearing like a treasure, open his heart just a little. “Knee, there are many of us teens, like me, that feel we are lost and confused about what direction home is. We don't even know how or where to get the right directions.”
The eavesdropping mother couldn't listen anymore. She quietly closed the church door and sat in a church foyer chair. One hand covered her tears as the other wiped her nose with a retrieved tissue. Amid the tears, Knee Miah's mom imagined the cardboard box airport and control tower were the church – her church. The tears really flowed when her mind thought of the people in the control tower didn't care about the airplane in the stormy skies. In the same way – the church didn't care about teens in their stormy lives not being given clear comforting directions on how to get home and supper.
