Eight-year-old Jamin wasn’t very smart. Or at least that’s what his older brother told him. Almost daily, brother Kenny found ways to remind Jamin of his shortcomings and laugh at his blunders.
“Jamin, you will never be smart”, Kenny said. Deep inside Jamin felt resigned to a life of muddled trip-ups. Would he always be clumsy? Would he always say things wrong? That’s what Kenny said.
Jamin believed Kenny’s lectures with wide-eyed belief. Kenny was three years older than him, so he must be right. Very well, then Jamin would be simple. Kenny would be smart. Life was not fair. Dad and Mom disliked Kenny’s proud talk and punished him whenever they walked in on one of his speeches. But Kenny had a way of avoiding earshot. So he continued mocking Jamin.
Grandma Otto watched these trials from her rocker on the porch. She was a quiet old lady.
“Jamin, do you know where Kenny is?” Mom asked with a smile. “It’s almost supper time.”
“He went to check his coyote traps. I’ll go find him.”
There was a chill in the air as he tramped up over the lawn, and the sun was growing old as he crossed the border of the woods. The fleeting shadows scurried over the hills. The chill deepened as he stumped further in. He breathed the rich air and followed Kenny’s trail. Eventually, the trail would end up in a meadow, but Jamin hoped he would find Kenny before he had to go that far. The various traps had been checked already, so Jamin knew Kenny had come this way. Jamin trudged on resolutely. His golden head caught the tired beams that fled from the sun as they flickered through the trees. And soon those too had faded leaving behind the musky smell of the woods. The fall webworms had been at work, and their web curtains shuttered from branches overhead.
At length, as the trees subdued and thinned, and the meadow appeared Jamin knew this was the end of his brother’s trap route. If Kenny wasn’t here, he wouldn’t know where else to look.
But Kenny was there. As Jamin clumped into the meadow, he could see a frustrated heap to his right. The heap’s voice had a familiar ring. The heap’s face was lit in pain. The heap was Kenny. “Are you alright? What happened?” Jamin felt strange, seeing Kenny scrunched in the dirt. Kenny was smart. “Did you step in a trap?”
“Yes, Jamin. I..I wasn’t looking where I was going. Help me. Please.”
Jamin bent and found an ankle firmly held in the jaws of a steel trap. Darkness stained the ground around Kenny. Quickly, Jamin’s strong arms pried open the jaws. Kenny reeled free. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I think so. If you support me, I can hobble along.”
“Dad and Mom will be worried. We’ve missed supper.”
Sure enough, as the brothers hobbled back through the woods, they heard the long calling of their father. Jamin called back, and he was by their side in a moment, seeing the ankle and scooping up Kenny like a hurt sheep. The odd little band hurried home, and the screen door banged shut as Dad swept across the porch. Jamin went to the wash house and scrubbed his hands. He headed for the front door.
“Jamin.” It was Grandma. The porch light showed her in her old rocker. A heavy comforter lay on her shoulders.
“Yes, Grandma?”
“Do you think you are not very smart?”
“That’s what Kenny says.” Jamin squirmed.
“You were strong enough to open the trap, and Kenny wasn’t. You were brave enough to find him in the dark. Lots of young boys wouldn’t be.” Jamin was silent. Grandma Otto rocked some more, then smiled. “God made you the way you are for a reason, Jamin. He made Kenny the way he is for a reason. He has a plan for you, and a place only you can fill, you know.”
Jamin turned and walked into the warm kitchen. He was smiling.
