Hopping to his feet, Bucky looked at his own watch. Nine-thirty on the button. He’d better find the kindergarten department.
Down at the far end of the annex building, Bucky located the room he was looking for. Ten miniature chairs in a semicircle were already filled with a collection of squirming youngsters. A middle-aged woman sat in the front of the room, trying anxiously to get the morning program underway. A large pile of felt cutouts on her lap were apparently out of their proper order, and she was attempting to get them sorted out. No other adults were in sight.
Bucky silently sat down in the lone chair against the far wall. Immediately the leader noticed and motioned for him to come up to the front. “Are you Bucky Stone?”
“That’s me.”
Her voice was a loud whisper. “Pastor Jensen told me you’d be helping out.”
“Well, he asked me to at least take a look,” Bucky corrected, wondering just how committed he already was. He peeked over at Rachel Marie, who was waving vigorously at him.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Mrs. Crawford sighed in relief. “Our pianist will be here in a minute, but we need someone to tell a children’s story. Could you do that for us?”
Bucky glanced over at the row of children, swallowing a wave of panic. Then, remembering a story from a recent family worship, he said, “I guess I can try to come up with one.”
“Good.” Mrs. Crawford grasped his forearm gratefully. “That will sure be a help.”
In a moment, as promised, the pianist arrived and the kids program did get underway. Bucky did his best to be helpful during the songs, singing along with the parts he recognized from Rachel Marie’s humming around the house. And he managed to stumble through a classic “bedtime” story borrowed from family worship, even though he was distracted by Rachel Marie’s loud whispering, “I’ve heard this one before!”
The moment of greatest chaos came during a song called “The Raindrops Fall.” As children stood in pairs under umbrellas, Bucky and Mrs. Crawford took turns sprinkling water on them from a large blue watering can. Everyone wanted more than one turn, and there was a good deal of squealing and elbowing to be first in line.
He watched with interest as the animated leader took the children through the Bible story of Jesus and Zacchaeus. The kids listened, wide-eyed, and he found himself trying to think of how he might help Mrs. Crawford out by volunteering to load all of the colorful felt images onto a big PowerPoint file and embedding music to make the featured songs flow even more smoothly.
Before he knew it, the hour was over and the kids were lustily singing, “We’ll live for Jesus every day. When we work and when we play.” One by one the kids trooped out the door to waiting moms and dads, clutching new copies of Jesus Team and showing parents the stamp on their hands, which indicated at least partial recall of the week’s memory verse. Bucky sank into the nearest chair and fanned himself with a leftover copy of the children’s magazine.
Mrs. Crawford bustled around the room, putting away an assortment of visual aids. “It is hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
“You were such a help, Bucky,” the leader praised him. “I hope you can assist us again.”
He nodded. “I’ll talk to the pastor about it, anyway.”
She paused in her work. “Forgive me for asking,” she said, “but you’re not off at Christ the King with the other high school kids?”
“I’m going to regular high school. I’d like to go with them, but my dad didn’t go for it.”
“He’s not a believer, is he?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
“I should know everyone in the church better,” she apologized. “Remind me of your mom’s name again.”
“It’s Jennie. And, of course, you know Rachel Marie.”
“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “I won’t forget Rachel Marie from the first week she came here. We did a song where the kids ride in a little missionary boat. And she wanted three turns.”
“That sounds like Rachel Marie,” he agreed, picking up his Bible. “I’d better go find Mom before church begins.”
“OK. Thanks again, Bucky.”
During the church service Bucky and Rachel Marie sat quietly with Mom as Pastor Jensen spoke earnestly about one’s relationship with Christ. He told an amusing story from his own childhood that illustrated the bond between family members.
“Did my parents disown me,” he concluded, “when I played ‘Mr. Gas Station Man’ and filled up the tank of my dad’s old Chevy with water from the garden hose? And I mean – to the brim? Was I, temporarily at least, removed from the family tree? No longer their son?”
A ripple of quiet laughter spread briefly throughout the sanctuary. But the thoughtful moral of the story describing God’s unshakable love for his children gave each member something to think about as they filed out of church following the closing praise song.
In the foyer, Pastor Jensen squeezed Mrs. Stone’s hand and gave Rachel Marie a hug, then paused when he grasped Bucky’s hand.
“How’d it go over at kindergarten?”
“OK, I guess. Kids in there seem awfully restless most of the time.”
“They’re just wiggly at that age,” Pastor Jensen said. “You’d be surprised at how much they pick up, even with all the horsing around they do.”
“I suppose that’s true. Anyway, I guess I’ll help out.”
“Awesome! I knew you’d be good at it. I know Mrs. Crawford is going to appreciate your help, and believe me, so do I. I’ll tell you something else,” he added. “Working to help others the way you will be with these little kids is just about the best way I know to keep yourself close to Jesus. Remember what we talked about during your Discipleship 101 studies?”
“I know. ‘Bible study, prayer, and Christian service,’” Bucky recited.
“That’s it,” the pastor said firmly. “Working for others – telling them what Jesus means to you – will help your own love for God to grow. It never fails.”
Bucky nodded thoughtfully, thinking about his encounter with the band teacher just a few days before. Briefly, he told his pastor about it.
Pastor Jensen nodded his affirmation. “That’s great. See, the Lord is going to give you a million ways to share your Christian faith with people over there. Fantastic.” He clapped the young student on the back. “And I’m glad there’s no problem with you skipping that one band concert and coming on our retreat.”
“I know. Mom and I can’t wait for it to get here.”
“It’s going to be good,” the older man observed. “They sent me a DVD about the project and we were watching it last night. The main guy is really funny at times, but man, it brings tears to your eyes at the end. They buried twelve kids just in August this year. Can you imagine that?” Twelve funerals in a month, and all of them for kids younger than you are, Buck.”
“Wow.” The mental picture of the HIV orphans tugged at his heart.
“This old world gives us a lot to pray about, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Bucky’s face sobered, but then he managed a grin. “Anyway, in the meantime, I’m kind of hoping God will help me find someone in high school that I can lead to him.” Quickly, he told the pastor about Sam.
“Wow. Good for you!” Pastor Jensen gripped his shoulder. “This is a real opportunity for you, man. Keep me posted on how it works out. I’ll be praying for you.”
Saying goodbye to his pastor at last, Bucky jogged to the car where Mom and Rachel Marie were patiently waiting.
Chapter Six: Into the Playoffs!
The Giants were in! Bucky could hardly believe the good news. After years of helplessly chasing the Dodgers and the Rockies, the San Francisco crew had actually finished the season in first place, bumped off Atlanta in the wild-card round, and was heading into the National League Championship Series with a surge of momentum pushing them forward.
Even the birds in the trees seemed to be celebrating as Bucky pedaled his way t
o school on Monday morning, wearing, of course, his Giants sweatshirt.
“The World Series-bound Sa-a-a-n Fra-a-a-n-cisco Giants!” he announced proudly to a large black dog on his neighbor’s lawn as he wheeled by. The dog seemed unimpressed, but Bucky didn’t care. It was a perfect October day for the Bay Area, made even more pleasant by the smell of victory in the air.
In the high school parking lot, a huge banner draped across a school bus proclaimed, “S.F. All the Way!” A small postscript in a corner of the banner encouraged: “Kill the Mets!”
Bucky spotted Sam, his Vietnamese friend, walking toward the cluster of classrooms. In just a few short days the boys had become good friends.
“Yo! Sam!” Bucky jogged up beside the older boy.
Sam stabbed a finger toward Bucky’s Giants shirt. “Hey, man, they did it yesterday!”
“They sure did,” Bucky grinned. “My dad and I went to the game!”
“No kidding?”
“Yup. Five to four over the Braves.”
“I heard the home run on the radio,” Sam said. “Who hit it? Mosley?”
“Oh, yeah. You shoulda heard the crowd!”
“Must have been good,” Sam agreed. “Think these guys can take the Mets?”
Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. The Mets are a mean team. At least the first two games are here in California. If they can sweep both of those and win at least one in New York, I think they can do it.”
“We’ll see. Well, I got physics. Gotta run.”
“See ya.” Bucky waved, turning the corner toward the English I classroom. He slid into his seat by the window – Miss Cochran was one of the few teachers at the high school who insisted on assigned seats – and watched as the classroom quickly filled with students. Some were still struggling to shake themselves awake despite the cool air coming in through an open window.
“Man, this first period is a pain,” one boy remarked to no one in particular, yawning as he slumped into his seat directly ahead of Bucky. “Wake me when it’s over, somebody.” Bucky caught a familiar whiff. Cigarette smoke?
Miss Cochran called the class to order, glancing quickly through a seating chart on her teacher’s stand before popping a PowerPoint file up on the plasma screen and then launching into a detailed study of proper sentence construction. She was tall and shapely and always fashionably dressed. Being unmarried and just two years out of college, she was the topic of considerable discussion among the male population of the high school.
Despite her relative inexperience, she had no problems keeping control in the classroom and was always well prepared for each class presentation. Bucky paid close attention, figuring he needed all the help he could get for the theme that was due on Wednesday.
“Now, remember,” the teacher admonished toward the end of the period, “your papers have to be on my desk Wednesday morning. E-mail submissions are fine. And no more than a page and a half, preferably typed.”
“Typed?” one student complained. “Dream on. Who’s gonna type it for me?”
Miss Cochran smiled. “Either text-message it out yourself or get someone to do it for you, Bob. You don’t have to turn it in typed, but that’s always the best way to make a good impression on a teacher.” She smiled and gave him a sly wink. “From what I’ve seen of your handwriting, I’d recommend you type it up – even with one finger, if you have to.”
Bob groaned. He was a big, cheerful guy, well liked by the whole class. “What’s it supposed to be about again?”
“What I Believe In . . .” Miss Cochran began scooping up some papers on her desk. “Share with us your firmly held convictions on some topic of universal appeal.”
The closing bell cut her off.
“My firmly held convictions.” Bob struck a dramatic pose, placing his hand over his heart. “The Giants in six games over the Mets. Those are my firmly held convictions,” he boomed in a deep, theatrical voice.
“Write ‘em up,” the teacher advised, smiling, as Bob and company filed out of the room.
During lunch, Bucky and Sam sat well away from the ever-popular basketball court. Several boys at the same table argued heatedly over a pair of Giants playoff tickets that, they alleged, might become available.
Sam ate quietly, appearing to have something on his mind.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Bucky queried at last.
Sam took another bite and chewed it for a long moment before answering. “You mind if I ask you something?”
“No. Well, it depends, I guess,” Bucky laughed. “If it’s about my dating life, then no.”
Sam looked embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about band. I heard you tell Mr. Walter you were skipping that one concert to go on some church outing.”
“Uh huh.”
“So, what’s up with that? Church and everything?”
Bucky thought for a minute before answering. “Well,” he said finally, “I became a Christian about two years ago. Me and my mom. And so . . . once in a while, we have something like that come along.”
“Plus what? I mean, you go to church every weekend?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Man. That’s a drag.” Sam tore open the ever-present bag of Fritos.
“Not really.” Bucky looked over at him. “I mean, I used to think so too. When I was in middle school, we never went, and I thought it was all stupid stuff. But when we went to these meetings and really got to know about God’s plan for our lives and for our world, man, it was the most awesome thing.”
“Like how?”
“Well, just . . . everything.” He flushed a bit, realizing that he’d never before had to tell a friend about what was in his heart. “I know that God created this world and my family and me. That he loves us and has a plan all worked out for our lives to turn out well. Stuff like, what am I going to be? Where will I end up? Who will I find for a, you know, wife? Everything.”
The older boy snorted. “Are you serious? Jesus is going to come right down here and pick you out a girlfriend?” He said it easily enough, but there was an edge of cynicism in his voice.
Bucky shook his head, unruffled. “I didn’t mean it like that. ‘Course not. I can pick my friends and all that. But when you give your life to God, he promises to lead you into good paths and away from bad ones. Just by following what the Bible says, I end up missing out on a lot of grief and mistakes.” He took a sip of his can of soda. “And, of course, there’s eternal life.”
The Vietnamese boy’s face clouded. “I don’t get it. Eternal what?”
“Life. God’s going to erase all the mess this world’s in and let us live forever with him.”
Sam looked at him like he’d swallowed a tennis ball. “Are you serious about stuff like that?”
“Sure.” Bucky gathered up his stuff. “Come on. You know at least something about God and all, don’t you?”
A snort. “Well, like two percent, maybe. I’m just not into it.” He laughed. “Do you believe in heaven and angels and . . . wings?”
The young athlete nodded, unfazed. “Sure. I got a pretty simple rule. If the Bible says it, then I believe it.”
“That’s too much.” Sam hesitated. “And you get dressed up for church every single weekend?”
“Well, we really give the Lord a whole day each weekend,” Bucky mused. “For one thing, we start it out with the best supper of the week. With candlelight, sometimes.”
He went on. “We read Bible stories, sing some songs for worship, listen to Christian CDs and praise songs that I’ve downloaded. We have some awesome concerts DVDs that we watch sometimes. Once in a while my little sister and I put on a Bible skit for my mom.” He laughed. “You should see Rachel Marie ham it up; she’s such a nut.”
He took a sip of soda before continuing. “Then the next morning, yeah, we hit church – and the one we go to is unbelievably good. Then after lunch we relax and read for a while or listen to music.”
Sam listened without commenting.
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br /> “In the afternoon we usually go over to the park or for a walk down at Forest Grove,” Bucky added. “Oh, yeah, once a month we’re involved in something called Blue Jean Kingdom, which is a church project. Different things every month, you know. Community service at the retirement center, stuff like that. Then we always have a little worship celebration as the day comes to an end. That’s basically it,” he concluded.
He took a gulp of his drink before suddenly turning the tables on Sam. “What about you? Does your family go to church?”
“Nah.” The older student shrugged. “My folks used to be Buddhist, but they don’t bother with it anymore.”
“You ever think about, you know, Christianity?” Bucky’s voice was even.
Sam shook his head. “Don’t know much about it. I watched a preacher on TV once. All he did was shout at the crowd and then ask everyone to send in a hundred bucks for a gold tie pin that looked like a cross. Forget it!”
Bucky thought hard for a moment before responding. “Well,” he said finally, “I don’t know about the brand of religion you may have seen on TV, but I found Christianity to be the best discovery I ever made.” He took a breath. “If you ever want to check out church with me, that’d be awesome. I think you’d like it.”
Sam looked at him curiously. “I’ll think about it,” he said carefully. The expression on his face said clearly, Don’t hold your breath.
Bucky quickly changed the subject and the two young men chatted easily until the lunch hour was over. As he made his way back to the classroom complex, Bucky noticed that the air was turning even cooler. It really was World Series time!
Tuesday evening the San Francisco Giants delighted the home town crowd by easily defeating the New York Mets with a three-hit shutout by Jerry McNeil. The young lefthander had enjoyed a standout year for the Bay Area team ever since his successful recovery from cocaine the year before, and was a huge crowd favorite. The Giants got three runs in the bottom of the first inning and coasted to a 8-0 victory before 45,000 ecstatic fans at AT&T Park.
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 4