Life Matters - September 7, 2022
I was excited! And rightly so. Reuben, a friend from my teenage years whom I hadn’t seen nor talked to for upwards of 35 years, had called. He, his wife and two of my cousin-friends, along with their wives, one other couple and a single guy were coming to visit! All of them were teenage acquaintances, but the two cousins and Reuben were three of my closest teenage friends. I had met the cousins at funerals a few times, but for the most part, all our lives had become busy with our own families. The last I had seen Reuben and most of the other friends was at a 1987 “Whiz Kid” reunion at Cousin Benuel and Barbie’s farm in Lancaster County, PA.
The “Whiz Kid” group was a smaller same-age group of 20 or so youth within a larger youth group. And yes, as the designated title suggests, we were of the “wild crowd.” I have no desire to relive those years as I might mess up worse than I did. Besides, it was a spiritually dangerous way to live, with a hopeless eternity looming whenever I dared allow my thoughts to go there. Outwardly, I feared nothing. Inwardly, I many times had those “cringe” moments. Several times, I missed death by a hair’s breadth. Not all of my acquaintances survived “the wild years,” and although I’ve been forgiven and accepted into the family of God through Jesus Christ, the memories of those who didn’t survive haunt me still and I’ve had to accept those memories as part of reaping what I’ve sowed. And then the thought comes, “What about him/them? Where are they now?” and I leave them to our God, whom I trust to judge righteous judgment.
The couples that came to visit are of those who not only survived but also repented, settled down, married, brought children into this world and made a heart-felt attempt to raise them for the kingdom of Christ. My mother, God bless her, kept me attuned of these young couples’ efforts to form a Godly youth group when she was still here. But since she is gone, I hadn’t heard much in the past decade or so. I believe they would still bring joy to my mother.
They also brought joy to this transplant from Pennsylvania. A lot of water’s gone under the bridge. All four of them are now “empty nesters,” so they planned a western trip together with one stop being their old buddy, “Billy the Kid.” And yes, that was my nickname (was!) and no, I didn’t earn that nickname by being “wild.” I was given that handle as a preteen playing “cowboys.”
When my “old” friends arrived, I stepped out onto the front porch as they disembarked from the panel bus they traveled in together. I eyed the whitened beards and various shades of gray and hollered, “Who are these old pappies?!” and then as I scurried out on the sidewalk, “O yes, the last time I looked in the mirror I guess I saw an old pappy myself!”
We hugged. We shook hands. And we talked. We reminisced, we laughed, we well nigh cried, we shared joys. Sorrows. Concerns. They were here for six and a half hours and the only break in conversation was when all our mouths were full at the same time in the 20 minutes it took to down the delicious supper my beautiful wife and wonderful cook had concocted for us.
The pieces of our lives that had no part in this happy conversation, however, were the parties. The revelries. Whenever we did touch on those, the conversation went subdued. Sober. We all remember the hurts. The Monday morning hung-over miserable consciences. Those who are gone. Forever.
So, to all of you teenagers out there, enjoy your young years. Have fun. With a clean conscience, a prerequisite to a joyful life. Happiness is not found in a bottle. Nor in a weed. Nor in powder. Nor in any other mind-altering substitute for joy and happiness. Happiness in lasting friends is wonderful, make good memories with the friends of your youth. Those are fun to talk about when the fountain of youth is ebbing away. So, build good character. With Jesus who is “a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” (Pro. 18:24)
Life Matters!