Once upon a time lived a happy little boy. He had a brand new red wagon. He and his wagon were inseparable. Oh how he loved his wagon.
One day cruel bullies harassed the boy. They took his wagon to use and abuse it. They broke his wagon and broke his heart.
The little boy was sad. The bullies heckled and tormented him. He cried when they called him a sissy. They threw the broken wagon at him.
As fast as he could he pulled his broken wagon home. It's a wonder it rolled on three wheels. The wagon was dented. The little boy was hurt.
He was determined to fix his wagon. He took his time and he fixed it with no one's help. There, it looked better. It rolled smooth again. He was alright.
But time after time the big bullies returned to break him and break his wagon. This day they tore off every wheel and severely dented the body. They twisted the handle until it snapped.
The nice little boy became very angry. He fought. He lost. They laughed. He raged. He was tired of fighting and tired of losing. Once again he carried a broken wagon and a broken heart.
He controlled his pain with anger. He was mad at the bullies, mad at his wagon and mad at himself. He could no longer fix it. He dropped the wagon in the backyard. He ignored his feelings of loss and sadness.
Some days he'd approach the pitiful wagon. If he started to cry, he'd kick it in a fit or rage. He'd throw it against the fence and roar, "I HATE THEM!"
Time went by and winter rain rusted the wagon. No sign of shiny red paint. No sign of a once happy boy.
"I don't need any help! I don't care about that stupid wagon! Just leave me alone! he'd shout.
He refused help, but he needed help. He truly cared about his precious wagon. He was confused. He didn't understand and he couldn't cope.
Pieces of wagon were lost throughout the yard. The broken wheels were here, the bent handle was there and the rusted body was some place else. His dream wagon was a nightmare.
The boy continued to get sadder and madder, yet never accepting help. He gave up. He felt useless and empty like his wagon. He became extremely ill. If he didn't accept help soon, he would die.
A wise old teacher visited the sick boy. The old man sat on the edge of the boy's bed and looked deep into his eyes. "My son, you are very sick. You need my help. Please trust me to help you get better." "NO!" the child refused. "I'm not sick!" he commanded. "Just leave me alone!"
The wise man replied, "Wounded child, sad child, I have the tools to fix you and your wagon."
He continued, "Together we will pick up the pieces. As we rebuild your wagon, we will rebuild you. I care about you and I care about your wagon."
The boy was scared, he cried hysterically. He didn't think he was strong enough. He didn't think he could do it.
The wise man gently took the boy's hand. Slowly they entered the backyard. The boy started to cry and walk away. The wise man caught him and hugged him tight. "You'll be fine. You're not alone. I'm with you." He added, "Now help me find all the wagon pieces. You must feel to heal. Someday you will understand."
It wasn't easy. With patience and prayers the young boy and the old man took the first step of the long journey. The collected wagon parts and broken hearts. As they restored the wagon the boy regained strength. They pounded dents and sanded rust. They fixed the bent handle and attached it.
Then on went the wheels. Step by step, piece by piece, painfully, yet joyfully, the wagon was coming together. . .as was the child.
Next went the shiny red paint. And then black on the handle. It was unbelievable. No visible scars. The boy could smile. He even whistled.
While the paint dried the teacher said, "The wagon is yours and only yours. The bullies were sick and they caused your sickness. But now you're getting better, and with my help you will learn to forgive them."
The old man and the boy became close friends. One afternoon as they walked, pulling the shiny red wagon, they talked. The boy asked his wise friend, "Why did you help me?"
The gentle man paused and softly set his hand on the boy's shoulder, "My beloved son, once upon a time many years ago, when I was your age, I had a little red wagon just like yours."
