They live in societal banks, brassy but full of potential, contained in dull, green, dejected vaults, unrealized, not matured or measured, but still treasures, until one day these adolescent, reluctant children become Adolescent Reluctant Adults.
We try to fix them, but we are carpenters hammering at metal, bent nails bouncing of the wall, glittering sparks, dangerous and spiteful, because we use the wrong skills and the Wrong Tools.
As we hammer at their youth, incessantly banging, they, with defiance, divert from aging wisely. Their brass dulls to dejected green hues, which glitters little and is certainly not lively.
So sad, since these ones were meant to shine, not meant to get bold and brassy, then to age and die. They are supposed to escape from a desperate permanent potential, and become that which God invented, a gem most valuable
But the thick brass will not give, the toughest kids will not live, except to bounce of thin walls, and circle narrow halls.
Until one day the carpenter puts down his ancient tools, and finds a slender thin key, an old way or a new way, which opens, instructs and refresh those minds. It is when the Teacher gets tough and tender, firm and kind, to uncover a new creation that gains value in God’s Time.