Chapter 13

Driving home we cheer Dad for his negotiation skills. He really is a great father, one who’s always trying to give me new opportunities.

Being at the family reunion inspires me in so many ways. For instance, it gives me hope that one day I’ll be able to grow a really cool mustache. (Aunt Debbie is very inspiring.) Also, watching my family display all their different talents makes me want to broaden my horizons. I need to develop some talents to add to all my other . . . um . . . one.

The next morning I know exactly which new talent I’ll focus on first. I draw a face on my belly with a Sharpie and stand in front of my bedroom mirror.

“Ready?” Dad asks as he walks in. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching my belly how to sing,” I reply. “Wait. Ready for what?”

“Builders for Christ. Remember, we’re helping remodel the homeless shelter today.”

Builders for Christ is an awesome Christian group. It organizes volunteers to do construction work on churches or ministries in our area. For some reason, these projects always seem to be scheduled in the summer when it’s the hottest. I think they pick summer because “It’s not really ministry if you’re not miserable doing it.”

They really need to work on a new slogan. Sure, sometimes God wants us to do hard things to show dedication, but a lot of times ministry is fun!

I had totally forgotten about volunteering for Builders for Christ. Helping out with BFC means hanging out with Mr. Scott. He’s our team captain and is really awesome. Mr. Scott can repair anything! I could probably bring him a broken microwave and he could fix it . . . into a motorcycle. He’s that good.

“I can’t wait to see Mr. Scott!” I exclaim. “He’s always fixing things!”

“Well, you do give him plenty of practice,” Dad admits. “Speaking of Mr. Scott, he wants us to be extra careful this week. He specifically asked me to remind you to keep your brain on high alert while we’re there.”

“I will. My brain’s always running at full speed, so that won’t be a problem.” Then I blurt out: “Hey! I bet that’s why they call it Scott’s tape. Scott’s tape can fix anything, just like Mr. Scott!”

“You may want to check your brain speed,” Dad says. “It’s actually called Scotch Tape.”

“Really?” I exclaim. “I can’t believe I’ve been calling Mr. Scott the wrong name this whole time.”

Dad does his famous eye-rolling trick that lets me know our conversation is over. I put down my Sharpie, put on my work clothes, and head downstairs.

When we arrive at the homeless shelter, I can tell this place needs some Builders for Christ care. The outside of the building looks really run-down. I climb out of the car, determined not to break anything this year.

“This way, Dad,” I yell, pulling open the front door of the shelter.

Wham!

“We should start by fixing this door,” I say.

That’s when Mr. Scott walks up. “Just lay it on the ground,” he says. “The hinges are old and cracked, so that really isn’t your fault. But try not to break anything else. I’ll fix the door after our circle up.”

Every morning begins with circle up. It’s a great way to start the day. First, we all arrive ready to start working. Then Mr. Scott tests our patience with a long speech, job assignments, and a prayer.

About an hour later, circle up is over and we’re ready to begin. Mr. Scott gives me a special job. He wants me and Dad to paint the walls in the dining hall!

“What did we learn from last year, AB?” Mr. Scott asks.

“Don’t paint the door hinges or the glass part of the windows,” I reply.

“And?”

“And don’t paint other people.”

“That’s right,” says Mr. Scott. “Let’s learn from our previous mistakes.”

Last year, Dad and I were assigned to paint the youth room of a small church. Painting with my dad was fun, but I learned some valuable lessons. For example, never put a bucket of black paint on the top step of a ladder, especially if your dad is painting beneath the ladder.

Also, painting and basketball tricks don’t always go together. I found a basketball in the closet in the youth room last year and decided to practice spinning it on my finger. The basketball, however, decided it wanted to fly off my finger. I lunged for it, hitting the ladder, and, well . . . I thought dad looked ten years younger with his new jet-black hair. However, Dad’s mood suddenly matched his new hair color, and I wasn’t allowed to paint anymore.

I assure Mr. Scott that I won’t make the same mistakes this year.

“I’m way better at spinning basketballs now,” I explain. “Plus, there are only watermelons in the dining hall, and they’re too heavy to spin.”

Mr. Scott rolls his eyes. He and my dad both like to do that when I’m around. Mr. Scott also tells us that some homeless people will probably be coming in and out while we remodel, so we need to be alert.

“Most of the people are really nice,” he says. “Just be aware at all times.”

If you’ve read my other books, you know my family and I serve food at a homeless shelter every year at Thanksgiving. If you haven’t read my other books, I’ll pause while you do that.

Pretty good, huh? As you’ve just read, I’ve always had positive conversations with homeless people. But what Mr. Scott says has me a little concerned.

Should I worry about my safety? I wonder. What will happen if someone comes in and does something bad?

I don’t have long to think about it. I grab a bucket of paint and head to the dining hall. Dad follows me at a safe distance. He likes his current hair color and wants to keep it that way. We start setting up just as a homeless man wanders in.

“Is the shelter open?” he asks. “I’d like to get some water if possible.”

I glance at the man. He looks like he hasn’t slept or shaved in days. His shoes are worn and his shirt is—

“Hey!” I exclaim. “We have the same shirt!”

The man looks at both of our shirts and grins. “Dallas Cowboys fan, huh? So, we’re both used to life not working out all the time.”

This makes everyone laugh. Dad walks over and hands him a bottle of water. I give him a fist bump. Then the guy does something no one is expecting.