By RTF Editor B.J. Hamrick

I’d never seen anything like it. The roof was caved. The front door was busted. The yard was an African safari gone bad. My pulse raced as I crept through the tall grass toward the front steps.

Was I out of my mind when I agreed to deliver magazine subscriptions for my brother? Had he forgotten to mention basic details of the job, like the 99% probability of death?

I searched the delivery list for the name of the magazine to deliver. ESPN Mag? Pure PC? Anything that involved sitting in front of the T.V. and ignoring the daylight as it peaked through the roof?

My mind reeled when I saw it. The list had to be wrong. Was it a typo? The homeowner had ordered – what? Better Homes and Gardens?

Yeah right. She must be dreaming. There was no way this house would ever have fountains, flowers, or anything except a natural skylight after the next rain storm.

I dropped the magazine and ran, huffing and puffing and whispering a prayer of thanks to heaven for a second chance at life.

No tigers jumped at me. No bugs crawled up my legs. No creepy old woman chased me over the hedge. In fact, I never saw the woman who lived in that house.

It’s been a long time since that scary day. I still drive past the place sometimes (but only on nights when the moon is full and the car is able to go at least 95 miles per hour).

The house looks worse than ever. The sheets in the windows and the car in the driveway make it appear that the homeowner still lives there.

I wonder about that person.

I wonder what makes her tick. Is she disabled? Unable to work? Unable to renovate the house, but dreaming about it in spite of that? (Or was the magazine a gift from a not-so-subtle neighbor?)

As I wonder about these things, I realize – I understand the home owner a lot more than I want to admit.

I know what it’s like to have a dream but feel unable to fulfill it.

My dream? To make a difference.

I love to think about this dream – to flip through the colorful ideas in my mind – but when it comes to actually doing something… I feel disabled. There are so many needs… so many children without medical care. Families without food. Orphans without homes. I want to do something… but what?

Recently as I wrestled with these feelings, I remembered these words written by a woman who was deaf and blind, but was far from handicapped:

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something I can do.” – Helen Keller

I may never cure AIDS. I may not feed every hungry child. But I may ask God what He wants me to do. I may follow His heart of compassion to where He wants me to be.

It is true — I can do something. And because of that…

I will.

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B.J. Hamrick is the editor of Real Teen Faith.