I was five when we moved to Algonquin Drive, and onto the edge of the
expanding suburbs. Hetfield Avenue was the main street then to me, and across
it lay a whole new world-a world of dump trucks, steam shovels, graders, and
bulldozers-what else could a five year old boy ask for? But on this new street,
where it once had been woods, were now houses, and soon to be families with
kids, and soon it would turn into its own neighborhood-and I lived on the other
side of Hetfield. Two lanes of blacktop dividing me from this new neighborhood,
but somehow uniting us too. As we watched the moving vans pull up and unload
furniture, we would try to get close and check out the big trucks, which smelled
of diesel, a strange but fetching smell-they even burst forth with a giant puff
of smoke like the bulldozers. But really we were curious as to who was moving
in, and if they had any kids our age. And most did, and soon we were playing
kickball and hide and seek with our new neighbors, getting to know them and
making friends. Testing them out by making them be it first in hide and seek,
and soon finding out who was faster and smarter than you. Who could kick the
ball farther and who could defend himself better in a fight. We never thought
of it as anything scientific, we were just making friends, pals, who would last
forever, or at least until 7th grade when it would all change, but friends we
were....and then they built more houses....Princeton Avenue was the next new
neighborhood. And soon the woods we used to play in, where many of our WWII
battles had been fought playing Sgt. Saunders like on Combat! was turned into a
street with houses. But along the way.....
For we were older now, and bulldozers still fascinated us. But now we were
told to stay away...and we did until the work day ended, then went and sat on
the back hoes, and dozers, playing for real, deciding in life what we wanted to
be when we grew up-we wanted to drive construction equipment. And soon we
learned about picking up the extra pieces of wood, the nails they dropped, and
were building forts on our last vestige of woods, New York Avenue, the last
place to play Army, the last place to sled ride, and the last evidence of our
past, before suburbia took over. But when the new Princeton Avenue neighborhood
grew, we made more friends, who would marvel at the stories we told, how we used
to play on a giant fallen weeping willow where Bill Moore’s home was. How the
path in the woods that was now paved was a source for dodging lions and bears as
a kid, and where we had ridden our bikes through the poison ivy. And they
couldn’t believe how where their new home stood, that once was the woods-a haven
for young boys and their imaginations...but soon they were to find out, as we
invited them sledding on the hills above where New York Avenue was to be, and
the last woods would be there play ground too. The neighborhood was
growing...but really our world was shrinking...we were having to much fun to
think of it any other way.
And soon the woods where Ricky Ray’s multi-story tree fort, the creek where
we played camping out by, the sled runs, and the places we buried our girly
pictures would be paved over...and another neighborhood invading, with another
group of kids to welcome to our world, who this time didn’t care about our
sacred grounds they lived on, and were just a few years too young to play with.
Our last vestige of childhood was gone, and the new kids didn’t care, in fact
they wanted nothing to do with us, they were snobs towards us...fortunately
Junior High was closing in on us, and soon the old neighborhood would be a long
ago playground, but for now the times they were a changin’, and for us that
meant the neighborhood.
But what we didn’t know at the time, was we were changing too, only doing
it as a group of friends. Hide and seek was played less, no more kickball, and
suddenly we were sledding at Echo Lake, riding our bikes to Westfield, and girls
were a new word, a welcome word in our vocabulary. Our neighborhood was
changing, as were the neighbors, and we weren’t sure what to think, even the old
tree forts seemed childish, and soon we were too old, or sophisticated at age 12
to be a kid anymore, we had grown up, we had changed. We were teenagers!
It has been said, wisely I might add, that each of us is at a different
level spiritually. Which can get us into trouble, or keep us out. I tend to
gravitate to stronger Christians, learning from their example, and trying to be
more mature in Christ. But many times I fail, and wonder, if that was the only
time someone saw me, and had been told I was a Christian, would I measure up?
Which scares me, for so often I am not...only when others aren’t looking of
course. But how do you handle it when busted? Do you rebel, taking your ball
and going home? Do you make excuses, making your situation even worse? Or do
you admit it, repent, and go on? Hint-#3 is the best choice. Forgiveness is
wonderful friend, and it seems as young kids we were more forgiving. You might
have a fight, but ten minutes later be chosen to play kickball, or to go
sledding. We forgave easier, we just forgot, and today many of us need to
remember the lesson. We need to remember that Jesus forgives us-all our sins,
and those to come. We are clean and white as the snow we used to sled on, and
perfect in His eyes. How different in our world, where we say “we forgive, but
I won’t forget.” Aren’t you glad God has a much better plan? And so reading
about the TBN founder Paul Crouch and his death, many critics came out and bad
mouthed him. True he wasn’t perfect, and not one of my favorite people, and TBN
had become a kingdom of its own, so much criticism is true and warranted. But
not found in heaven, for Paul like others before him, and those to come are
found forgiven by God when we ask Jesus into our hearts. We will still sin, but
thankfully no man will be my judge, and only God can grant me a pardon through
Jesus. Paul’s neighborhood changed when he got saved, as ours did, and now has
changed forever, where no sins are remembered, or are past things on earth. It
is all new, and unimaginable-anything you think heaven is, it will only be
better. And I my case, maybe more woods, bikes to ride, sleds to ride, and
stories to tell around a fire with other kids in the neighborhood. But this
will be a new neighborhood, fashioned by God, and all eyes will be on Him, and
not us. If only we could learn that lesson now, if we could see each other as
God does, either forgiven or not forgiven. Another choice we make, and the
difference between those in heaven and hell. Some may judge you today based on
your past, or on your present. Only God will guarantee your future, and see you
as His Son has made you, clean and perfect. And so for all those who enter
heaven, in our new neighborhood, we will all have one thing in common-Jesus.
The same Jesus who saved us on earth, and we claim our Lord. The same one who
tells us “on earth as it in heaven,” reminding us of forgiven sins.
What sins do you wish forgiven? What do you want your new neighbors to not
know about you? Practice now by forgiving, and forgetting, Be that heaven on
earth, and set an example, a Godly one. New neighborhoods are being created
daily, and old things are passing away. Welcome to the family of God, where all
things are made new, all sin is forgiven, and we can have heaven on earth.
Where the only thing we will have I common is we have no sin, it is forgiven,
and it will be all about Jesus. One large heavenly neighborhood, with Jesus as
the welcome wagon. And even the worst of sinners can be forgiven, if they only
ask. Hetfield Avenue was the street to cross into many a new neighborhood, one
day crossing over into heaven brings new joys-unspeakable joys, and forever
joys. Practice for it here while on earth, the old neighborhoods will soon be
gone. You can never go home again, but once you get to heaven, you will be
home. Hope to see you there...what was once old will be made new again.
Friends that will last forever. You are never too old for heaven.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com