Pebbles in a Creek

                I stand with my feet in the cool golden waters of the creek, in my hand is a smooth honey colored pebble. A leaf falls from a nearby tree and lands in the water, making faint ripples. Smaller such rings appear as a water skater lands and looks for tiny bugs. I drop the pebble as hear the “plop” as the water rings spread further and further apart. With a tiny motion, I disturbed the flow of this simple creek.

         Each action we undertake has a reaction. We affect all of those around us, whether or not we are aware of it. We all drop pebbles into creeks, the lives of others. There are numerous ways to drop a pebble and the ripples that emerge are different every single time. The dropped pebble can cause a positive change in someone’s life, or they can terrible consequences.

“Hey, Retard!” A dodge ball comes flying at me, hitting my hip as if it was a missile. I can already tell that it will bruise in a few minutes. As I move to sit on the bench, three more balls fly at me. Two thump my back while the third finds its mark on my head.

            “I’m already out!” I turn back and face the three boys standing there in complete confidence, convinced that they are allowed to do this.

            “So?” The leader, a tall tan sports player with dust colored hair spreads his arms. “This isn’t for bookworms, Retard.” The boy to his left starts to throw another ball when Coach Percival tells us to change and head to our class. I walk into the locker room, shaking with the effort of keeping my feelings hidden. I can’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I stifle a sob as I pull out my t-shirt. Why did my teacher have to place me next to them? How long will I have to pray until we get a new seating arrangement?

            I sat between two of my tormentors for the rest of the school year. Everyday new insults were added as they tried to cheat off of “The Retard’s tests.” When the next year started, nothing changed. My teacher finally found me sobbing in the bathroom one day. Although I did not understand at the time what had happened, several bad ripples had emerged in my creek. I refused to make eye contact, flinched every time someone tried to hug me. Worst of all, my prayers had gone unanswered for so long that I was convinced God abhorred for me. I hid in a fantasy world of books, build a wall around myself; all because three boys dropped pebbles of doubt, hate and fear into the creek of my soul. We may tease each other, but to some it is not teasing. Every step you take, the smallest word you say can and will affect those around you. I still struggle with what happened to me. What those boys did has impacted my outlook on life, and the way I think of myself. Their pebbles were thrown in with force, but we have the choice to gently let the pebble skip cheerfully across the creek.

            “Hey, are you going to Jen’s party?” A tall boy with coffee colored hair stands in the doorway of my mother’s classroom.

            “I don’t know…” I trail off, trying to come up with some excuse.

            “I can give you a ride if you need one.”

            “I’ve got a lot of homework, Kaleb.” I glance down at the desk, refusing to meet his gaze.

            “It’s on a Saturday.” He strode over and sat on the edge of the desk. “You’d enjoy it. We’re watching a movie, playing games, the whole gang will be up there.”

            “I don’t really know Jen that well.”

            “She loves reading the same stuff you do and is an excellent cook. You’d like her.” He bends down till his eyes are level with mine. “Please Sis? You spend too much time avoiding people. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re my sister, well, in spirit.”

            “Alright,” I sigh and try to hide my small smile from him.

            “You’ll have a lot of fun, you’ll see. I love you Sis.” The nineteen year-old college student wrapped his arms around me, a mere fourteen year-old nerd, and pulled me into a bear hug. I froze, no boy, not even my cousins had hugged me in years.

            That hug, from a friend who became my honorary brother, was a pebble. Unlike the first, it radiated kindness and a form of love that I had believed to be dead. The initial ripples of fear and confusion gave way to hope, support, loyalty and adoration. I could see the light again, although I did not yet comprehend its meaning. Even now, I can still feel the effects of that one hug in my internal creek. However, it was a year later that my creek truly began to find its true course, with the help of an avalanche of pebbles that were tossed in by three complete strangers.

            “Sis!” Zach, a tall tan boy with chocolate hair and earth brown eyes turns and looks for me. “Where are you going?” He raises his voice, trying to make himself heard over the concert music and the writhing crowd.

            “I’m gonna buy some of that last band’s stuff.” I point to the tents set up not too far from the stage.

            He lifts one eyebrow. “Really? I’d think you liked that kind of stuff.”

            “I don’t, but they did a good job of working with the crowd. Plus they mocked Twilight, I’m just doing it to support them.”

            “A’right, you want me to come with you?” A look of concern crosses his face. This kid may not have known me for long, but I can tell he thinks I’m too shy to go by myself.

            “I’ll be fine,” I lie, Zach needs to spend some time with his real sister, not the girl he claims as one. I turn and let the flow of people take me to the line of teens and adults wanting to buy Manic Drive merchandise.

            “CD’S!” A girl comes out waving a basket of CD’s. “Two for twenty bucks! Get them signed inside!”

            “What the heck, why not?” I raise my hand and give her a twenty as she hands me the two albums. I stand there and look at the smooth cool covers that are now mine. One is dark blue with the three band members standing under the title Blue. The other shows a wind-swept desert and bares the phrase Reason for Motion up at the top. I look up to realize that I am next in line to meet the band.

            A boy, only ten years older than me meets my eye. His short black hair is on end from his recent performance. I step forward, a compliment about his singing on my lips when he smiles at me. I freeze, the hand holding the CD’s outstretched. Still holding my gaze he gently take Blue and opens it. “Did you enjoy the show?” He inquires as he signs his name.

            “Yeah, you guys did a really good job.” I bite my tongue. “Really? That’s all you have to say to the kid?” He looks up as he hands my CD to the guitarist, still smiling at me. I’m tempted to see if he is looking at someone behind me. As I take Blue back from the drummer, I look back at the singer. Why did he smile at me? He doesn’t know me.

            That smile, a tiny twitch of facial muscles had a huge impact on my creek. That smile held words, as did the look of kindness in his eyes. The singer (Shawn Cavallo) did not know that I did not trust people enough to make eye contact; he just reached out and looked straight into my dull and unused eyes. He did not know that only my closest friends, my “brothers” gave me looks of kindness. I had never thought to look for that in a stranger, but Shawn did. I thought about that smile for the rest of the concert and until the next day.

            The rain fell hard on the tin roof, drowning out the sound of my father’s snores from the next room. I glance at the clock as I lay my book down, the digital face reads seven a.m. Gazing around my room, I spy two CD’s I bought at the concert yesterday. Careful as to not wake my parents, I place the first CD in the player and press play. The lyrics had been placed inside the cover and I read them while the music played.

            “… thought I made a masterpiece, compared it to clones I thought I made an art that was unique (Manic Drive, “Blue”).” “That’s funny,” I was having the same problems with my stories. I sit and listen, intrigued now by the band who has the same creative problems as me. “Tried my own way, still I can never feel at home. Please don’t remind me that I can’t do this on my own; change my will to Yours... (“Blue”) “Change my will to whose? Do they mean God? No,” I rub my arms. “No, he doesn’t care about me.”

            The song switches, a slow piano number begins. “…I need you closer, so take all I am, start again, bring me in cause I need you… (“Closer”) “Do I need God? He certainly has not done a good job of taking care of me.” I shudder as a brief memory of the bullies flashes through my mind while the next verse goes on. “We turn around and we curse his name, they convince us that our God is dead and it’s His fault that we lost Him (“Closer”).” My head jerks back as if I had been slapped.  I sit there for a few minutes before putting the second CD in.

            “I know you’re hurting; your eyes, they show me the truth and my heart, it hurts for you (“Tragedy”).” I frown in thought, “does God feel pain for me? How could he understand what I had gone through?” “How can I come to you when life’s a tragedy?” I nod my head, even the song writers don’t get it. “I don’t want to think that I’ll lose you over one mistake. I hope you try to find a place for me in your heart…” “God wants a place in my heart?” I bit my lip as I try to figure out this seemingly complex puzzle. Then the song changes again, speaking of hiding from the past and leaving God behind (“Crying”). That’s what I did, “should I stop running?” Tears of confusion start to build up as the second singer sings his part of the chorus. “I’ll wait for you, if you want me to. Look at me, in the eyes, cause it’s now or never (“Crying”).” “Has he been waiting, or have I left it too late?” The second verse continues to describe the fears and doubts that I have held for what seems an eternity. The tears start to fall from my eyes as I try not to sob. “What have I done? Did I really cut myself off from what I needed? Can I ever get it back?”

            The last song begins, as I try to read the lyrics with eyes floating in salty water. “My spirit came and created light and since then I loved you (“Alive”).” The impenetrable wall I built around myself trembles. “He loved me?" “I’m alive, I’m still here. Just seek and you’ll know (“Alive”).” Once again I start to weep as the wall breaks. Somewhere inside I feel as if a final puzzle piece has been placed in my soul.

 The band Manic Drive dropped more than a pebble in my creek. Their decision to start singing resulted in me gaining my life back. They gave me the final push I needed to be in God’s arms. I found out in the course of writing this paper that the main album that save me, Reason for Motion, came out the same year that I lost my faith. The actions of three Canadian boys in their mid-twenties made me become a true believer of Christ, and they do not even know my name.

            No matter what we do, someone is watching. They are watching our actions and are being affected by them, no matter how big or small the decision. What we do does have an impact, whether we know it or not. Insults will lead others to ruin, and not just the victim. People do judge us by the way we treat others. Small movements, such as a hug can show someone the meaning of love in ways we could never understand. Perhaps the most wondrous of all, we can change the life if a complete stranger without knowing we have done so. We all drop our own pebbles in all the creeks around us. The question is, what kind of pebble do we choose to drop?

Works Cited

Manic Drive. “Blue.” Blue. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2009

Manic Drive. “Closer”. Blue. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2009

Manic Drive. “Tragedy”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006

Manic Drive. “Crying”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006

Manic Drive. “Alive”. Reason for Motion. Spring Hill, TN: Whiplash Records. 2006