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By Wayne Scott My grandfather was dying of cancer, and my family sadly faced death for the first time. I was only nine years old and now began to wonder what life was all about. I had no answers, and I felt alone and empty. The Vietnam War was raging and, though I barely understood it, I knew enough to fear being a part of it one day…What’s a puzzled nine-year-old kid supposed to make of all this depressing stuff? I looked forward to forgetting these worries when I left for my first summer camp, but found it was tough facing my first time away from home at “Acorn Lodge.” With watery eyes, I watched my parents drive away that first day and I desperately hoped no one would notice my cascading tears. Not wanting to look childish, I tried to wear a brave façade only to discover I was stuck with a top bunk in the dormitory. There’s no denying I was a gangly runt at this age and my bed seemed forty miles high. All my attempts at bizarre acrobatics would not propel me to the top. My feeble efforts became an entertaining show, and soon all the guys gathered around to watch me climb my “Mt. Topbunk.” Things got worse when my watch—a treasured gift from my grandfather—slipped off my wrist as I struggled to the bunk. I watched in terror as it hit the floor and broke into a hundred pieces. I remember thinking that my life was a lot like that watch— broken and in need of fixing. As I gazed at the floor oblivious to the jeers of the fellows standing around, I saw the pieces of my treasured watch darkened by the large shadow of jolly Mr. Peitz, the director of Acorn Lodge. He specialized in scrawny nine-year-old men-in-the-making. All became quiet as Mr. Pietz suddenly commanded a respectful silence. It was as if everyone’s conscience was seared to the quick by the mere presence of this kindly giant. Without a word, my tormentors hung their heads, and their eyes blinked apologies. Having quickly sized up my predicament, Mr. Pietz scooped up every last cog, coil and spring of my prized watch with his huge hands, wrapped it all in his polka-dotted handkerchief, and gently led me outside for a talk in the privacy of the friendly forest. I felt as if I could tell Mr. Pietz anything and everything. And I did. Finally, he asked, “Young man, do you have any idea why our lives can be so miserable?” All I knew was that life could be miserable and was at the moment. I wasn’t sure why. And then he explained that it was because we expect things in life to go a certain way—usually our way. More often that not, things don’t go our way, and that is because our ways are not God’s ways. When we are not following God’s ways and are not allowing Him to have complete control of our lives, we are acting as if we know better than God. I knew I didn’t know better than God! But, let God control my life? It sounded a little scary and mysterious until I understood that the God of Psalm 139 and His Son, Jesus, knew me even before I was born. He’s counted the hairs on my head, and knows me better than I do. He continues to love me despite knowing all I have done and despite knowing all the terrible things I will think, say, and do in the future. Jesus loves me so much, Mr.