Terry Started It

Terry stunk. Tall for his age, he had flunked a couple grades. Long messy hair, ratty clothes, constantly dirty. His chipped tooth protruded from his mouth and his voice cracked when he talked, always saying the wrong things. He didn’t fit in—anywhere. Too smelly and awkward to hang out even with the geeks, nerds, and dweebs. A true outcast.

And I was stuck being his friend.

It was Chris’ fault. He invited Terry to play with our foursome of Fourth Grade buddies that day on the playground. I instantly rejected the idea, but Chris, with his constant spastic energy, was the defacto leader of the group, and his will always won out.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Chris had stuck around. But a few months later his dad took a job a couple hours away. By then Terry had latched on as a permanent fixture and the other guys in the group slowly distanced themselves. When fifth grade started, it was stinky Terry, and me.

That was the start of poverty for me. Not in money, but in spirit. Terry unknowingly started me on an uncomfortable path in life that I’m sure is destined to save me from myself.

This blog is the continuation of that journey that started 25 years ago. One in which I am finding God in the needs of those around me and in the poverty of my own soul. Come with me. It won’t always be this heavy. Sometimes goofy, often reflective, and maybe corny at times. Most likely, it will stink—like Terry. Like me. But that’s all part of it.