Bobbie was 7 years old and named after his dad. He liked sharing his dad’s name because he adored his father. He wanted to be like him, truth be told. Whenever there was show-and-tell at school, he’d bring in one of his dad’s tools from the garage and describe in detail how it was used to fix this or that. Although his demonstrations at the front of the class involved imaginary cars and motorcycles, Bobbie’s performances were nothing shy of amazing. He’d mimic his dad’s movements, borrow a few of his words, and even use well-placed murmurs and chin scratches for the sake of authenticity. While the other students were entertained, his teacher was touched. She had met Bobbie’s father once at a parent-teacher conference and could see where the man’s son had picked up on his personality. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, she thought.
“And that’s how you fix a broken battery cable on a 2010 Toyota Corolla.” He turned and smiled at his teacher, letting her know he was finished. Today’s presentation was Bobbie’s best to date. “A+,” Mrs. Sullivan said as the little boy gathered up his props and ventured back to his seat with a little skip to his step. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
When Bobbie got back to his seat, exhausted, he reflected on his performance, wondering if he’d done it better than during the two hours he had rehearsed the night before. More importantly, he wondered if his dad would be proud of him. That’s what mattered most – not the teacher’s evaluation or the reactions of his peers.
Halfway across town Emilia, Bobbie’s sister, had a worried look on her face. She was terribly shy and amidst the cruel throes of adolescence. She had just sent her junior high school crush, Chad, a note via the illegal network of willing rule-breakers that comprised the back row of the classroom. It read, “I like you.” Had she risked too much? She’d be mortified if crotchety old Mrs. Haggard intercepted her plans and read the note to the class. Almost there, she thought.
When Chad got the note, she watched out of the corner of her eye and, when she was convinced he had read it, she turned and faced him. To her horror, he looked directly at her and made a face like he had just taken a whiff of the worst smell known to humankind. He then shared the note with his buddy next to him and now they were both making awful faces at her. This was the worst day of her life; she was convinced of it.
Bobbie came tearing into his house, running all the way from the bus stop at the end of the street to share the good news with his mom. Panting, he kicked off his shoes at the door, almost spilling onto the hardwood floor as he raced around the corner into the living room. Mom must’ve waxed the floors again today, he thought as he managed to keep himself upright, arms flailing. “Mom, Mo…” Only half of his second call to his mother made it out of his mouth. Big sis was sobbing on her lap.
Bobbie adored Emilia almost as much as he did his dad. He’d been confused about her behavior this school year. She seemed sad most of the time, hiding out in her room, writing in her diary. She had warned him once to stay away from her diary, “Or else!”
Because Emilia was sad, Bobbie was sad. He loved her.
“What’s wrong, Emmy?”
She looked up with her bloodshot eyes but couldn’t catch her breath enough to share, nor was she inclined to. “Emmy had a rough day at school, sweetie,“ his mom answered for her. “Her heart is a little broken, but she’ll be OK.” All of Bobbie’s excitement drained out of him. How could he celebrate when his sister was so sad? He couldn’t. In fact, his heart was breaking right alongside Emilia’s.
Bobbie ran to the garage in his socks, almost dumping again several times. He grabbed a tool out of the toolbox – he had no idea what it was used for – and decided it was time for another show-and-tell. This time to an audience of two, one crying and the other curious.
He stood there in front of the coffee table and began.
“This is a very special tool. No one knows how to use it except me.” He was going to have to lay it on thick if this was going to work. He held the tool out for inspection and then brought it to his chest. Pointing what appeared to be the functioning end of the tool at his heart, he began twisting in odd motions. “Uh, huh…hmmm…yes, yes.” His mom saw a miniature Bobbie Sr. His sister saw a goofy kid that looked like he was performing open heart surgery on himself while standing up. And what was that tool in his hand, she thought. “Almost done,” his chin pressed so tightly to his chest that the words were mumbled. “There, I got it!”
Bobbie held out something imaginary, but he hadn’t yet given it a name, so the suspense was building. He walked towards Emilia with the imaginary object cupped in his hand. “Slowly,” he said, “this is the hard part.” He reached out to his sister’s chest and placed it over her heart, “I’m giving you a piece of my heart because mom said yours was broken.” Emilia wept even louder than she was when he first came home. He’d blown it. And just when he thought the operation was a success, too. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help, Emmy.”
As tears welled up in his own eyes, his sister said, “Oh no, little man, you fixed me!”
“Huh?”
“That’s right. You fixed me. My heart is all better. I’ve forgotten all about stupid Chad and his mean friends.” She glanced up at her mom, smiling, wiping the tears away on her sleeve.
“Really?” he asked, his former dejection evaporating.
“Really.”
He looked over at his mom and now she was crying, too. He thought, I don’t know if I’ve got another show-and-tell in me, but if mom needs fixing, I suppose I can roll up my sleeves again. Before the thought progressed any further in his head, his mom said, “Bobbie, where’d you learn to do open heart surgery?”
Puffing his chest out, seizing this moment for all it was worth, Bobbie said, “You ladies wouldn’t understand. It’s all about having the right tool for the job, you see.” Once again, her son looked like a tiny version of her husband as he spoke, gesturing with his hands. She chuckled to herself. He patted the funny looking tool and said, “My work here is done,” as he pivoted and headed back to return the surgical instrument where he had found it in the garage.
Looking over his shoulder, Bobbie asked, “Oh, Mom, are you good? Do you need a quick fix?”
“I’m good, thank you.”
He strutted off down the hall…
REFLECTION:
God got me up at 3am this morning to write this. Why so early? I don’t know. I stopped questioning His choices a long time ago. I’m glad He did, though. My apologies to you for my lack of literary skills. Nonetheless, I hope you got the gist of the story.
The power of pure love is undeniable. It transcends, it heals, it encourages, it transforms, it blesses. The list goes on an on. Love is the pinnacle of life, of living.
Here’s some Holy Scripture to think about in light of the story above.
To the pure, all things are pure.
– Titus 1:15a
Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.
– Ephesians 5:15-16
Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God.
– 1 John 4:7a
Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.
– 1 John 4:11
Be kind to one another, tenderhearted.
– Ephesians 4:32a
And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all.
– 1 Thessalonians 3:12
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
– John 13:34-35
Love is the right tool for every job.
Love in Christ,
Ed Collins