Making Friends

It would have been a good game if John had known the rules, but he kept kicking the football instead of picking it up and running with it. Mike watched him in frustration. John charged at the ball and punted it with a flying kick right into Mr. Green’s backyard. Dean ran to get it.

When John moved into his block, Mike had hoped they could become friends. But this game was ridiculous.

“I’m going home,” Mike said. He saw disappointment cross John’s face and he felt a twinge of guilt.

As he began to walk away, Dean ran over to him. “Give him a chance, Mike,” he said in a low voice. “This game is all new to him.”

“No,” said Mike. “It’s a waste of time. He’ll never learn. We spend half our time chasing the ball.” He turned away from Dean abruptly and headed home.

He didn’t want to lose John’s friendship, but football was important to Mike. He looked forward to playing with his friends every night after school. But not any more! He wouldn’t play as long as John played. When he got home, there was still an hour until supper.

Grandmother was sitting in the corner of the living room by the fireplace. “No football today?”
she asked as Mike came in. “No,” Mike said. “They don’t know how to play.”
“Well, how about playing a game with me? My eyes are too tired to sew any more today.”
Mike was about to say no, when a glint came into grandmother’s blue eyes. She wagged her finger at him. “Come on now, I challenge you!”

Mike grinned. Why not? He had nothing better to do and he knew grandma would like it. “All right,” he said, “I’ll go and pick one.”

When Mike came back with the game, he set up a small table for them to play on. “Now here’s how you play, grandma,” Mike began. Then he outlined the rules to her. “Do you think you understand?”

Grandmother nodded. “I think so. But there’s a lot to remember. You’ll have to overlook it if I make a few mistakes at first. I’ll start.” She spun the arrow that pointed to the numbers.

“No, no grandma!” Mike interrupted. “We have to spin to see who starts. Whoever spins the highest number is the one who starts.”

Mike spun a two and grandmother spun a five. “All right, now you start,” Mike said.
Grandmother began to move five spaces on the board. “No, no, grandma!” Mike shouted again. “You have to spin again to see how many spaces to move. That first spin doesn’t count in the game.”

Grandmother ran her fingers through her gray hair. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. It’s such a long time since I played a game like this.” She spun again – a four this time.

“Now what do I do?” she asked. “Move your man four spaces,” Mike replied. He was getting impatient. Surely grandmother remembered better than this.

They played for nearly half an hour, and grandmother kept making mistake after mistake. By the end of the game Mike felt annoyed. He didn’t want to play another game. He had to keep telling grandmother what to do. She didn’t know how to play at all.

He put the game away and went out into the backyard. He could hear the shouts from the football game. I hope John doesn ‘t play tomorrow night, he thought. But the next night as he walked home from school, he could see John with his thick black hair, standing in the midst of the usual gang. It looked as though Dean was trying to explain the game to John. How could he be so patient? Mike wondered.

He tried to slide past them without anyone noticing him, but John saw him.
“Hey Mike!” he called. “Are you going to play?” And he flashed a friendly grin.
“No,” Mike said, “I’ve got something else to do,” he mumbled.
John’s grin disappeared, and he looked puzzled.
“Never mind him,” Mike heard Dean say, and the next minute John turned away.

Mike felt angry and guilty at the same time. He couldn’t play football, not the way John messed up the game. He
couldn ‘t! He kicked at the rocks on the sidewalk. Now he’d really lost John’s friendship.
Why couldn’t he keep any friends?

Just them Mitch Murphy came zooming by on his brand new bicycle. Mitch was several years younger than Mike and had received his new bike for his birthday.

“Hey you! Look where you’re going!” Mike yelled after him. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ride your bike on the sidewalk?” Mitch skidded around in his driveway and sped back to Mike. Then he screeched to a halt and stood feet astride the bicycle.

“What was that?” he said, grinning, showing the gap in his front teeth.
“You’re not supposed to ride your bike on the sidewalk. It’s against the law. Now get off it.”
Mike grabbed the handlebars and shook the bike.
Mitch’s toothless grin vanished.

“But mom says I can’t ride my bike in the street. I’m not old enough yet.”
“Then you’d better walk!” Mike growled, and he shook the bike again. “Go on! Walk!”
Mitch tugged at his bike. “Let go!” he yelled. Then Mike suddenly let go. Mitch yanked the bike at the same moment and landed in a jumbled heap on the ground. He began to cry.

“I hate you, Mike Davis. You’re mean,” he said as he untangled himself from the bike. “I used to be your friend, but I’m not any more. You’ll never have any friends. You’re too bossy – everybody says so.” And with that he moved off, pushing his bike in the direction of home.

Mike stared after him. Was that true? Did everyone say he was too bossy? It was true he liked things to be done correctly – mom always teased him about that – but did that make him bossy?
Mike began to think over the last few days. No one else seemed to care that John couldn’t play football the right way. Then there was that game with grandmother yesterday.

He’d been annoyed because she didn’t know the rules. Now he’d even tried to boss young Mitch around – and really, he admitted it was none of his business. Maybe he was too fussy, too impatient – too bossy.

Just then footsteps sounded behind him. “Hey Mike!” a voice called. It was John. “How would you like to learn to play soccer?” he asked. “The others all agreed,” he said, grinning and nodding in the direction of the football game. “I’m no good at football, but I know soccer.

Come on,” he begged, “I’ll show you a few tricks.”
Mike hesitated, then he relaxed and grinned. “Okay,” he said, “but I hope you’ll be more patient with me than I was with
you.”

“And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” Luke 6:31. Forgive me, Lord, when I’m impatient, and help me to be more loving, kind, forgiving.

Thank you for being my friend always.