Kingarthurhk
04-22-2012, 19:33
Hebrews 13:1-2, "<sup>1</sup> Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. <sup id="en-NIV-30244" class="versenum">2</sup> Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."
Have you ever met an angel? I have. This is my story.
My family was career military, and we moved around a lot. This particular move was 5th grade. As usual, it was a new place with new problems.
It was the in the early 80's, when Billy Idol and Michael Jackson had entered the scene. Back when parachute pants were big, and rock pins were the thing to have.
My parents had a different perspective, the military had never paid that well then as it does now. Life before my father mustanged over was about dehyrated milk with the lumps still in.
This was his first comissioned position from his former enlisted position. My clothes were all thrift shop, including the bell bottoms my dad had me wear to school. They had no clue the hell they entered me into in that public school being sent with those clothes.
I was the new kid, as all military kids are, complete with a fashion line up that was a virtual kick me sign. That and this place was urban. We had a class satanist, and two girls who were selling favors, and got busted for doing it.
My folks weren't helpful, or understanding, as I was constantly in fights, or being cussed or bullied. Somehow it was "something I must being doing to cause this."
So, I was on my own. The school administration was no help. When it came to survival, I was also on my own.
One particular day, when I was trying to sneak away for the long walk home. Some days I would have a crowd that would follow me and spit on me until I got there.
This particular day, I didn't make it. It was an open field before you made it to the street.
It was good idea to make it home as quickly and best you could. It was a place where people did get murdered in alley ways. That is another story.
So, before I could make it out, here came the crowd. I was surronded. The hateful words the pushing it was all happening. My spirit was already broken and I was staring at my feet.
Oddly, enough for this place being pretty urban there weren't that many black kids around, they were rare. But, then again, this was the southwest. This will become relevant later.
The school wasn't all that big, so pretty much everyone knew who everyone else was.
So, there I was, broken, staring at my feet. I was told that if I did not dress like the rest of the kids, show up with some rock pins the next day, I could expect a beating.
As Ron White once said, "I don't know many of them it would take to kick my a**, but I knew how many they were going to use."
And there were plenty of them, and they meant business.
All of a sudden, a black kid appeared out of nowhere. I told you that is relevant, beause there weren't that many in the school, and everyone pretty much knew who everyone else was.
He said in a firm voice, "You leave him alone!"
This crowd of tough guys, who didn't fear much, all ran as if their lives depended on it.
I was still in my own little world. The black boy put his arm around me, and said, "Are you alright?"
I nodded, still dejected.
He told me, "Don't listen to them, you keep on doing what you are doing."
I nodded, still dejected from everything that went on.
When I looked up, I was in the field alone.
The bullies had fled, and it took them some courage before they wanted to come and bother me again.
And the kind black boy who made them flee at his command, and comforted me, was gone as if he had never been there.
So, you see, I know angels, exist. I met one.
Have you ever met an angel? I have. This is my story.
My family was career military, and we moved around a lot. This particular move was 5th grade. As usual, it was a new place with new problems.
It was the in the early 80's, when Billy Idol and Michael Jackson had entered the scene. Back when parachute pants were big, and rock pins were the thing to have.
My parents had a different perspective, the military had never paid that well then as it does now. Life before my father mustanged over was about dehyrated milk with the lumps still in.
This was his first comissioned position from his former enlisted position. My clothes were all thrift shop, including the bell bottoms my dad had me wear to school. They had no clue the hell they entered me into in that public school being sent with those clothes.
I was the new kid, as all military kids are, complete with a fashion line up that was a virtual kick me sign. That and this place was urban. We had a class satanist, and two girls who were selling favors, and got busted for doing it.
My folks weren't helpful, or understanding, as I was constantly in fights, or being cussed or bullied. Somehow it was "something I must being doing to cause this."
So, I was on my own. The school administration was no help. When it came to survival, I was also on my own.
One particular day, when I was trying to sneak away for the long walk home. Some days I would have a crowd that would follow me and spit on me until I got there.
This particular day, I didn't make it. It was an open field before you made it to the street.
It was good idea to make it home as quickly and best you could. It was a place where people did get murdered in alley ways. That is another story.
So, before I could make it out, here came the crowd. I was surronded. The hateful words the pushing it was all happening. My spirit was already broken and I was staring at my feet.
Oddly, enough for this place being pretty urban there weren't that many black kids around, they were rare. But, then again, this was the southwest. This will become relevant later.
The school wasn't all that big, so pretty much everyone knew who everyone else was.
So, there I was, broken, staring at my feet. I was told that if I did not dress like the rest of the kids, show up with some rock pins the next day, I could expect a beating.
As Ron White once said, "I don't know many of them it would take to kick my a**, but I knew how many they were going to use."
And there were plenty of them, and they meant business.
All of a sudden, a black kid appeared out of nowhere. I told you that is relevant, beause there weren't that many in the school, and everyone pretty much knew who everyone else was.
He said in a firm voice, "You leave him alone!"
This crowd of tough guys, who didn't fear much, all ran as if their lives depended on it.
I was still in my own little world. The black boy put his arm around me, and said, "Are you alright?"
I nodded, still dejected.
He told me, "Don't listen to them, you keep on doing what you are doing."
I nodded, still dejected from everything that went on.
When I looked up, I was in the field alone.
The bullies had fled, and it took them some courage before they wanted to come and bother me again.
And the kind black boy who made them flee at his command, and comforted me, was gone as if he had never been there.
So, you see, I know angels, exist. I met one.