“I promise I won’t hurt you!” Seth yelled after him. It stopped the boy in his tracks, but he wouldn’t make eye contact.

“I’ve heard that before, too many times. It won’t work!”

“Look, I only want to help.”

“Nobody can help me.” He said so softly, Seth could barely hear it.

“It’s never too late...what’s your name.”

Their eyes locked, “Joe, that’s all I’m going to say.”

“Well, Joe that’s all I’m going to say, you look hungry.”

He almost seemed to brighten up, “I’m starving.”

“Let’s clean up your hands and get you some food. What do you say?”

Seth watched Joe’s eyes study him, as if looking for a shred of hope. He must have seen it, because a few minutes later they were sitting across from each other at the local diner.

Seth got a lot of stares as he brought this haggard looking boy into the restaurant. Here he was, clean cut, in an expensive suit with a boy no older then 13, who looked like he had been through hell. He didn’t care. God had a plan.

Seth studied the young boy in front of him. He had brownish hair, big green eyes, and ivory skin covered in dirt. His body was barely covered in ripped clothing. His hands were still slightly bleeding even after Seth had cleaned them. This kid had been through something. He wanted to call the police, take this boy to a hospital, but needed to gain this boy’s trust and find out what happened. He waited patiently as Joe packed away enough food for for a linebacker. He didn’t have to wait long. The poor kid ate so fast, like someone might take it away.

It was only then he began to open up.

“I never knew my dad. He didn’t stick around after he found out my mom was pregnant with me.”

‘Yep, an all too familiar story’, Seth thought. He needed to concentrate,

“She married some moron and he keeps me in line, if you know what I mean.”

“No, tell me.” Seth urged him on.

“Well, see these cuts on my hand?” He held up both hands, still bruised and bleeding, “I got in his way and he let me have it....he hurt my hands...” the boy trailed as fear prevented him from going on.

Seth, too, remembered the cold, uncaring hands of his foster father as he beat him after finding his Bible under his pillow. He was fifteen when he ran away from that awful house.

“Go on....please. How?”

“Well, I guess I deserved it, kind of. He was painting the hallway, and I tripped on the roller pan, getting paint all over and my handprints on the wall. He told me I’d never get handprints on anything again.” Seth watched as the boy fought with his emotions." ...My mother came home and stopped him. Well, tried at least. He beat her too....”

Yeah, he remembered that too, not that his foster mother ever tried to stop the man, but he did beat the both of them.

“I was so scared, I ran away. I left my mother... Oh, man, you don’t think?”

Fifteen minutes later, Seth turned down Joe’s street and they saw flashing red lights.

“Oh, God, no!” Joe screamed.

Seth pulled the car over and before he could even stop, Joe was out the door.

“Joe, wait!” He shut the car off and ran after him.

Both were stopped by a policeman.

“I’m sorry, you can’t pass.”

“That’s my mother!” Joe screamed at him, as he struggled to pull away.

“Your mother?” The policeman loosened his grip, and looked back at the stretcher being taken from the green house to the waiting ambulance. While his back was turned, Joe pushed past him and ran.

Both watched as the haggard boy ran sobbing to his mother’s side. The men stopped pushing for a minute. Joe looked down into the beaten face of his mother.

“Mom, I’m so sorry! I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do...”

“Joe, it’s ok. I’ll be all right.”

“I swear I’ll kill him. Mom, please don’t die.”

“Son, we have to get your mother to a hospital right away. You can follow in a police car.”

As they put her in the ambulance, Joe looked around for his stepfather, “Where is he? I’ll kill him!” He clenched his fist in anger.

The same policeman who had stopped him, walked over with Seth, “Son, your stepfather killed himself.”

Another stretcher was being brought out of the house, this time it was covered. Joe ran over and started beating the dead, covered body, “I hate you! I hate you!!” It took two men to pull him away, “I hate you!!” He screamed after it.

“Joe, come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Joe calmed down at the familiar voice and turned to Seth with an angry, tear streaked face.

They arrived soon after and hurried to the emergency room. The old, familiar smell of the hospital flooded Seth’s memories. The beeps of the machines seemed louder then usual. Nurses running here and there made him dizzy. Goose-bumps popped up all over him. He stifled the urge to cry, took a deep breath, and prayed for grace and wisdom. As they waited, Seth took the opportunity to tell Joe a little about himself.

“I don’t think I can live without my mother.” He sobbed, after hearing about Seth’s loss so many years ago, and the beatings he, too, endured.

“I know it’s hard, but God helped me through it. Besides, I have a feeling your mother is going to be ok.”

“You think so? She didn’t look to good.”

“Let’s pray.”

Seth and Joe soon walked into the room where Joe’s mother lay covered in bandages.

He ran to embrace her, but held back for fear of hurting her.

“Joe, oh my boy!” His mother cried. She lifted her pale, weak hand and wiped the tears from his face. Seth stood back, watching silently and praying.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for making you go through that for so long. I was just so scared.” Tears poured down her face. You could see it hurt to cry, but it couldn’t be stopped.

“Mom, he’s dead.”

A mixture of emotions came across her face, then relief, “Joe, I promise we’ll make a brand new start. Things will be better.”

“Oh, mom,” Joe turned to Seth, almost forgetting he was there, “this is my friend, uh, Seth. I met him tonight. He drove me here.”

Seth slowly approached the bed, “Your son and I have similar stories, and I’d like to help you.”

“Thank you.” Was all she could muster as tears took over once again.

Even under all the bandages, Seth could see her fear. She was a hurting woman who needed a gentle touch. He reached out for her hand. She cautiously took it. It was so pale and weak. So familiar. His own mother’s words came to mind, “Seth, promise me you’ll stay close to the Lord.” He was glad he had. He knew his faith and story would touch this woman. He also knew everything would be all right. He didn’t know what the future held in store, but he had a strange sense it would involve these two. They watched his lips move. He was praying for the right words to say.