Kenny was dumber than a bag of rocks.  He’d admit it to himself.  At seventeen he was tall and lanky – something of a misfit – to be sure.  A week didn’t pass when other kids (bullies really) would throw more than a few rocks at him.  He always seemed to have either a knot upside his thick skull or a bruise (more like several) on one or more body parts.  And just when he was beginning to heal from one or the other another round of torment began.

 

Now Kenny was a good-natured kid, so he’d take it all in-stride.  Most times he was able to out-run or escape most of the attacks.  Even with the taunts, he reached out to other kids – those labeled misfits like him or worse, those they called “retards.”

 

Unfortunately, Kenny didn’t do well in school and while his grades should have held him back, his teachers would pass him on.  Regrettably, he became known by teachers as the trouble-maker, insisting he attracted disturbances in their classrooms.  Even though he was rarely the cause – his teachers blamed him nonetheless.

 

What they didn’t know and would likely care less if they had known, was that Kenny alone took care of his invalid mother.  After a stroke it was Kenny who saw to her physical therapy, which helped to keep her from being totally dependent.  It was Kenny who cleaned-up all the inevitable and embarrassing messes she made, as well as the meals and general up-keep of the house. 

 

She was all he had and he was happy to have her.  Even when she yelled at him through contorted lips to “Hurry-up with my food!”  Having sat all day watching a series of dysfunctional TV lives, what with soap operas, reality shows followed by local and national news – her disposition was less than pleasant about time he returned home.

 

Only once had she taken notice of the bruises and scars.  After school he had been seriously attacked by several bullies and left in a bloody mess.  Stepping through the front door, his mother momentarily turned her attention away from the television long enough to comment, “You’re dumber than a bag o' rocks!  You probably deserved it!  Ha!”

 

He thought then, for the first time, that words hurt him more than any of the rocks had.  He held back the tears, put a smile on his face, and replied, “Yep!  You’re right about that,” then continued serving his mother her meal.  Making sure everything was just the way she liked it.  He did that every night.  Taking care of all her needs.

 

Afterwards, he would lie across his bed and look out his window up into the vast open sky wondering where God was.  Why hadn’t He stopped to help his mom or keep his dad from leaving?  But as soon as the thought entered his mind he’d say, “No matter.”

That was Kenny.  Never holding offenses or grudges. 

 

Besides, he knew from the daily news there were people in the world who had a much more difficult time of it than he did.  He was thankful he still had his mom, as well as a big bowl of cereal every morning – sometimes two – a good hot meal at night and a place to rest his head.  He’d heard somewhere that even Jesus didn’t have a place to rest his head.  Jesus homeless?

 

Still, a thought began to form somewhere in the innermost part of his being that sensed there was something more.  Not more of what he already had but something different all together – Better.  Richer.  Fuller.  Something complete.

 

Even though he knew he was dumber than a bag of rocks – being reminded of it everyday either by his teachers, classmates or his mom – nevertheless something happened in the universe just for Kenny.  A spark.  A door held opened. 

 

The universe heard a cry from his heart.

 

A sincere heart.

 

A heart that began to be filled with hope.