Bubbles and Hot Wheels

A young boy finds himself.

Justin was not a bad kid.  He was just a fun-loving teenager, whose choices made me wonder if he was using his head for anything other than a hat rack.

 

Case in point: The first dance of Justin’s Eighth Grade year of Junior High School.

 

Try to visualize this scene:

 

The video, “Highlights of the School Year,” is being shown at the last School Board meeting of the year.  Standing at the podium is the Principal of the Junior High, who is narrating the film in her well-modulated speaking voice, looking quite pleased with her little production. 

 

The opening scene is in a dark auditorium, with loud rock-and-roll music blaring in the background.  The auditorium is filled with 13-year-olds, gyrating around in rhythm to the music, and OOPS!  What’s this?  It’s a boy making a face up close to the camera �" so close that you can count his pimples!  And now he’s backing away.  A hand appears and �" Oh, dear!  The middle finger of the hand is extended, and it’s getting bigger and bigger and pretty soon it eclipses the entire lens! Then there is confusion, and blackness follows.

 

End of video.

 

Can you guess whose body is attached to the hand and finger in the film?  Justin’s. 

 

Every mother’s dream.

 

Of course, Justin was reprimanded at school and at home for his “addition” to the school video. 

 

When his father and I asked him what he had learned from the experience, he said this: “Next time, I’ll moon the camera, so they won’t know who did it.”

 

Not quite the answer that we were looking for.

 

A year later, I bribed Justin into going to a huge Christian youth rally that was coming to our town.  It was to be held on Mother’s Day Weekend, and I told my son that the only thing I wanted for Mother’s Day was for him to go to that rally.   And so he went. 

 

At the rally, Justin made the decision to become a Christian.  From that point on, he began to change and mature. 

 

He hung around with nicer friends, stayed awake in Sunday School, helped out with our church’s youth group, became a student aide for his high school’s class for autistic adults, joined the wrestling team, and became downright magnanimous towards his sister.  All of the energy that he had dedicated to getting into mischief was now being channeled into good things, instead.  It was amazing.  (Prior to that time, Justin’s only extracurricular activity had been lying on his bed with his computer keyboard on his lap and playing video games, while changing the channel on the television with his big toe!)

 

Then Justin applied to go on a Global Expedition to Romania with an organization (exclusively for teens) called Teen Mania Ministries.  He was selected to go, and somehow, we managed to raise most of the money for the trip.  Justin earned the remainder by working at two jobs after school.

 

We sent Justin off, not knowing what to expect. 

 

And I remember saying, “Young man, if I have to pay $10,000.00 for a helicopter to transport you home because you have gotten into trouble, I will never forgive you!” 

 

(I could just envision my son playing a practical joke on someone overseas and landing himself in a foreign prison!)

 

The kids in Justin’s group (nicknamed the “Romaniacs”) performed an evangelical drama in the same town square where the Romanian Revolution that overthrew Communism had begun 10 years before.   My child, who a year before had wailed, “But Mom, I CAN’T learn a foreign language!” picked up enough Romanian during his trip to be able to converse with the Romanian Nationals. 

 

The highlight of Justin’s trip was visiting the children in the Romanian orphanages.

When the Romaniacs arrived at their first orphanage, most of the children ran up to their visitors.  Justin, however, noticed a small child who looked about 14 months old, sitting alone at the back of the room.  His face was expressionless, and his overall affect was listless and unemotional.  As Justin approached the child, one of the orphanage’s workers told him that the baby hadn’t laughed or even smiled �" ever -- in his lifetime.  He told Justin not to worry if the toddler didn’t seem to be interested.

 

When he reached the baby, Justin leaned over and picked him up.  He tossed the baby high into the air and caught him as he came back down.  And the baby laughed for the first time in his little life.  Everyone else who witnessed it �" cried.

 

Does life get any better than this?  I don’t think so.

 

When Justin’s plane home landed at the airport, and I saw my son walking down the gangway, I hardly recognized him.  He had lost weight, and I later learned that he had been saving his food and giving it to the gypsy kids living on the streets of Romania. 

 

As Justin bent over and hugged me (he’d grown, too), he said, “From now on, Mom, I want to be really good!”

 

Now, three years later, Justin has been back to Romania twice.  He was also on a team that rode canoes down a river in the Panama jungle, bringing Bibles to a tribe of Indians who had converted to Christianity the year before.  Last year he helped to take a group of 11 and 12-year-old boys on a mission trip to Costa Rica, and this spring, he will travel to Cambodia with Teen Mania to do evangelism in the big cities and in the jungles. 

 

Justin is an Intern in a one-year school program called The Honor Academy at the Teen Mania base in Texas, where he is learning about missions, accountability, and faith.  The Interns run Teen Mania’s missions program that every summer sends more than 6,000 young people all over the world with a message of hope.

 

At 19, Justin is the happiest human being that I know.  He still has that mischievous glint in his eye and the same well-developed sense of humor, but now it is balanced with maturity and emerging wisdom. 

 

After Justin’s first trip to Romania, I asked him what he would like for Christmas that year. His answer surprised me.

 

“Mom,” he said, “This year, all I want is one thing:  Toys for the orphans and the street kids in Romania.  Bubbles for the girls and Hot Wheel cars for the boys.” 

 

And Santa granted Justin’s Christmas wish.

 

On Christmas morning, as he opened his presents, I noticed tears in Justin’s eyes.  As he opened the boxes filled with Bubbles and Hot Wheels, I wondered how in the world I had managed to raise such a wonderful human being.

 

I was glad that I hadn’t given up on my mischievous boy and that Justin’s faith had turned his life around for good.  And for what was probably the hundredth time, I said, “Thank you,” to the One who had created Justin �" “Thank you for choosing me to be his mother.”