I was walking to work one day when I saw a little boy, about 6 years old, across the street on the front porch of somebody’s house. He was trying to ring the doorbell, but couldn’t quite reach it.
Naturally I felt sorry for the little guy. I assumed he was probably checking on a playmate or maybe selling something for school. So I crossed the street to see if I could help out.
When I popped up onto the porch behind him, he was still hard at work, struggling to reach the doorbell.
“Hey there, little buddy,” I smiled and said. “Troubles?”
“I can’t reach the bell,” he said with a pout. He really was a cute, sweet-lookin’, little guy.
“Well, here that’s no problem,” I said, “Lemme give you a hand.”
“I can do it myself,” he said; and then struggled some more. He was determined to ring that bell.
“Oh now, come on,” I said, “I don’t mind.” Then I reached up to the doorbell and gave it a good, long ring.
“There you go, buddy boy,” I said. “No trouble at all. But don't feel bad. Listen, someday not long from now, when you’re a little bigger, you’ll have no trouble ringin' that bell either. But I want you to know, I was impressed with the way you kept trying to ring it.”
“Thanks, Mister,” he said, a huge smile busting across his dirty face, “Thanks a LOT!” It made me feel great.
“So now what do we do, little buddy?” I asked.
“Now,” he said with a giggle, “We RUN!” And he tore off the porch and down the sidewalk like a maniac laughin’.
I coulda throttled that kid. When the door flung open and I found myself face to face with ONE of the biggest, meanest, unemployed brick layers I'd ever seen, that little punk was already half a block away.
By the way, I have some VERY grumpy neighbors. No wonder I’ve never talked ‘em.
I think the lesson is clear: Kid’s are horrible. They are a bunch of lyin’, little punks who should be in Sunday School 24 hours a day!
And secondly...always ASK before you do any Good Samaritan work. If you don’t, you could get punched in the nose by an unemployed brick layer.
As together we stand and sing.