Stacy Peck, Media Development Manager for The LCMS Foundation, has contributed stories here in the past. See "Are our schools worth it?", "A Giving Spirit" and "Only $2.00 in his pocket." This story is very personal, especially in light of the fact that God called Danny's father to Paradise on April 10, 2004. His funeral was April 15, five years to the day from his baptism.
Danny was the most challenging child we have encountered in more than 10 years of inner-city ministry. He’s also one of the reasons we keep doing what we do.
He was hard-nosed, street-smart, a bit small for a fourth grader, with shaggy blonde hair and glittering blue eyes. He butted heads with my husband both in the classroom and on the basketball court. He referred to me as “Hey baby.”
It was late in the afternoon on Good Friday, three years into our relationship with Danny. We were relaxing in our backyard when the phone rang. It was Danny’s mom, asking to talk to my husband. She sounded a bit excited so, considering our previous experience with her son, I didn’t hesitate in calling Russ away from the barbeque grill.
I flipped pork steaks while Russ disappeared into the house, cordless phone in hand and a “what now” expression on his face. At least 20 minutes ticked past, I remember thinking Danny must have really outdone himself this time!
Eventually, Russ reappeared at the back door, phone still in hand. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said grinning. “Danny wants to be baptized — this Sunday — and he wants us to be his sponsors!” Wow! Danny really had outdone himself!
“And, and,” Russ was barely able to contain his excitement. “His 60-something-year-old dad is going to be baptized on Sunday, too!”
That Easter Sunday dawned bright and joyous. We made our way to church, both of us with the unspoken prayer that Danny and his family would really show up for the service. When we arrived, the reserved pews were empty.
Literally seconds before the service began, in walked Danny and his family — mom, soon-to-be-baptized dad, and various step brothers and sisters along with their children and significant others. I was immediately launched clean out of my comfort zone.
The stepbrothers, quite frankly, terrified me. They were big guys, tall and broad shouldered. Their bare arms were covered with tattoos, many images I couldn’t identify and some I wished I didn’t recognize. They had piercings and ominous-looking scars. I’d heard rumors of serious prison time. I didn’t what to know for what.
The service proceeded in the usual fashion and soon, the pastor called us to the baptismal font. We gathered around and watched, misty eyed, as first Danny and then his father received new life through the simple ceremony of water and Word. The congregation surrounded Danny and his dad in prayer and then warmly welcomed them into fellowship.
Afterward, there were pictures to be taken and gifts to be exchanged. We gave Danny a cross to hang in his room as a reminder of his special day. His eyes lit up and he immediately started thinking of the perfect place to put it. As we were filing out the door, the stepbrothers stopped us. “If you have any problems with him, you let us know and we’ll straighten him out,” the bigger of the two said. “We don’t want him turning out like us.” With that, they walked outside, lit up cigarettes and drove away.
Throughout that spring and summer, we made an effort to spend time with Danny. We took him fishing and out to McDonalds. He came to our home and played with our dogs. In all things, we let him know in no uncertain terms what was expected of him. By the time school started in the fall, we could see Danny’s general attitude beginning to improve…and he no longer addressed me as “Hey baby.”
School began and, as they say, old habits die hard. Danny made a bad choice and was subsequently expelled. Later, his family abruptly moved out of the city. We changed jobs and parishes at about the same time and lost contact with Danny.
The ending to this story is bittersweet. A little more than two years after losing track of Danny, we received a letter from our former pastor. Danny’s father was critically ill in a local hospital and Danny was asking for us. We went to the hospital as soon as possible.
We found a very mature, now 15-year-old young man in the ICU waiting room. The entire family was gathered in a corner, waiting for any word on the man they all loved. The situation was touch and go, life or death. We pulled Danny into our arms and then sat with him, catching up on his life. He thanked us, over and over again, for coming.
What struck us most was how Danny related to the two little boys his parents were caring for as foster children. He cuddled them, played with them and protected them. He looked up at us and said, “I have to be careful what I do because I know they are watching me.”
We left Danny that Monday night with a promise to come back on Wednesday. We also told him we would pick him up on Sunday and take him to our house for the afternoon. Most importantly, we vowed to never lose contact again. That’s when we saw a 15-year-old boy cry.
As I write this, Danny’s dad is still in the hospital. His condition remains critical and the doctors aren’t giving the family much hope. But there is Hope! There is Hope because of an Easter Sunday five years ago and because of the first Easter long, long before.
You have the opportunity today to share that glorious Hope with many more
children and adults around the world, just like Danny and his dad. Go to
http://catalog.lcms.org and read about efforts to share Jesus through Lutheran
schools, mission outreach, agricultural projects and much more. Then, make
a donation on our secured server to continue this vital work.