Fireworks Destiny




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" August 5, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ The 4th of July is a time for picnics, fun, and fireworks, not tragedy. Yet when Ginger was twelve-years-old, one happened in her neighborhood. The compassion she felt for the survivor stayed with her. Years later the survivor crossed her path once more. ------------------------------------------------------------ Fireworks of Destiny By Ginger Boda ------------------------------------------------------------ It was a typical hot 4th of July. Independence Day was the highlight of the summer in my little corner of the world back in 1966. It was a great day of swimming, deep-fried chicken, and a fireworks show in front of every house. Ringside seats, made of blankets on the yard, enhanced the sense of excitement as families joined to celebrate our freedom. My friends and I could hardly wait, so our parents would tide us over with those little snake boxes. We were amazed to see the little black worms began to form on the sidewalk after lighting the box. The transformation made me wonder about my own destiny in life. What changes and surprises were waiting for me outside my own "little box" of a neighborhood? My best friend lived only three doors down, and we were inseparable. With only a black and white TV displaying a mere 13 channels, we busied ourselves mostly outside. We made forts in the trees, painted the black rod iron fences with brushes dipped in water, and sang along with the transistor radio to the tunes of the Beatles. Then there was always hide n' go seek with the rest of the kids on the block. We were never bored, and rarely got into trouble. We often just sat and talked about boys, especially since we were nearly teenagers. It was on my childhood street, in fact, that I received my first kiss from Tommy. I often wondered, as young girls do after their first romance, if he "was the one?" Among the neighborhood children, you could find just about every personality conceivable. Although most of us were good kids, a troublemaker in the midst was inevitable. And there were a couple of brothers that fit that description. They would do the most obnoxious things. They'd swing on a rope that hung from the big tree in their front yard, making big sweeps in front of the cars passing their house. It'd make the drivers so angry. Whenever there was something broken, it was undoubtedly the "brothers" fault. It was nearly dusk that 4th of July. As expected, some kids would light off fireworks before sundown, like a tease to us waiting for the big show. But then I heard it. It was louder than the rest, coming from halfway down our street. My friends and I ran to check it out. About mid way down the block we stopped at the house where the 'kaboom' had come from. The sight I took in turned my stomach. Standing in the doorway of the home were the two brothers. One had a gun in his hand. Like slow motion, my eyes followed the direction the bullet had been fired. There, lying in the gutter was a boy, with a gunshot wound to his head. My hands went to my mouth in panic. Standing next to him was another young boy, frozen, holding onto a bike. I remember staring at his eyes, feeling all the pain and fear he must be experiencing. My heart went out to him. The brothers ran back into the house, slamming the door. The victim just lay there, lifeless. The survivor stood in shock over the body of his friend, crying. The rest of the day was a blur for me; I couldn't get the horror of it all out of my mind. Ten years passed and I was now a newlywed, married to my high school sweetheart, Mark. We had dated nearly four years, and talked about everything under the sun. I had showed him where I lived as a child, and he did the same. Funny, we had grown up just across town from one another, but had attended different schools until high school, and met in our senior year. One night while reminiscing with old friends, I began to tell of my childhood 4th of July story. The details had been disclosed after it had happened. Two brothers had apparently wanted another boy's bike, and he wouldn't give it up. While their parents were out, one of the brothers threatened to get a gun. Still the boy did not budge. I recalled how gruesome the sight was of that young boy laying in the gutter, his life snuffed out so abruptly. Then I reiterated the feelings I had for the boy left standing over the body of his friend. I shared how I often wondered if he ever recovered from that horror, and how my heart went out to him, as it could have been his life taken. At that moment I happen to glance over at my husband, and saw the tears welling in his eyes. Apparently the story had really touched him. But he just sat there staring at me. I asked him, "Mark, honey, what's wrong?" With emotion in his voice, he replied, "That boy left standing, was me." You could almost hear a pin drop as we silently took in the magnitude of it all. My husband and I had met when we were twelve-years-old, and never knew it. God had preserved his life, leaving a painful scar in both of our childhood memories, and brought us together again. As destiny would have it, tragedy, on a day when we celebrated our freedom, had caused our paths to cross. And he "was the One." Ginger Boda Rhymerbabe @ aol.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- My name is Ginger Boda and I live in California with my husband, Mark, of 26 years. We have three grown children, one still living at home. I work for a bank, but love to write, garden and entertain friends and family. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Hi Cheryl, Just a note to let you know how much I am enjoying Write 2 The Heart. I also want to thank-you for continuing to remember the military. My daughter is scheduled to leave for 17 weeks of training on the 13th of August and my son is being deployed to Guantanamo Bay for a year on August 8th. They are both on your "list". Thanks again and God Bless, Gloria *Please, let's remember to pray without ceasing for our troops and their families! We know God can cover Gloria with peace and protection for her children. Cheryl* I am so glad Bob wrote the story he did. I learned something. I did not know ice could become rainbow-making prisms. In Florida, it hardly ever gets cold enough to freeze. Maybe I should take a winter vacation to see snow and ice, but I worry that I would not know how to drive in the snow. Candi C. --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner David has safely arrived at his destination. He has started sending me a few pictures of his trips. Already he has had his famous misadventures. The truck broke down once and a motorcycle rolled over with him on it while unloading it. Long time subscribers will know that David is famous for his accidents. I'm taking advantage of his not being here. I have emptied closets and I'm going through boxes to get rid of unnecessary junk. I can hear him now saying she better not touch any of my stuff. If I could move some heavy furniture by myself, I would have a garage sale. I would use the money made to make a headboard for my bed. Then I would rearrange my bedroom. Give me a hammer and nails and I will remodel the house. Give me a broom and a dustpan and I wonder what do you do with it. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.