I could have been a serial killer?

When I was young, most of the trouble I became involved in was due to the influence of my older brother (hey, I'm telling the story, so I can blame my mistakes on anyone I want... regardless of the facts!). Anyway, as I was saying, my brother was two years older than I was, and seemed to enjoy manipulating me into doing things, shall we say, not in my best interest?

For years as a very young child (say, 5-8 yrs old), my nick-name was Dare Devil. The reason for being given this name was that I would do almost anything anyone dared me to do--even at the risk of bodily injury. I did not have a lot of friends of my own, so I often went with my brother and his friends--which I'm sure, looking back, must not have pleased him very much, to have his little brother tagging along. So he and his friends would find different ways to torture me--by daring me to do this thing or that, and then watching at a distance to see what befell me!

One memorable day they dared me to catch a woodpecker. We had a large woodpecker living in an old tree, out in a field next to our home. The hole in the tree where the bird lived was, perhaps, 10' or 15' up the large tree. We would often sit in the field and watch the bird coming and going, or 'pecking' the old tree to get the bugs hidden in its bark.

One day, the rest of the group being bored, one of them dared me to climb the tree and catch the woodpecker! Most people would simply laugh at the foolish dare and walk away... but I was very susceptible at that young age to teasing, and persuasion, so, weighing my options, I decided to risk life and limb, and to climb the tree and catch the bird.

Wrapping my arms and legs around the tree, I shimmied my way up the trunk of the tree until I was just below the hole that served as the bird's nest. With my brother and his friends shouting encouragement, I took a deep breath and reached into the hole and grabbed the woodpecker!

After sliding down the tree with bird in hand, it wasn't long before the boys had taken out their pocket-knives and had killed the bird. Then we proceeded to dissect it. I can still remember to this day seeing the insides of this woodpecker--the multi-colored organs, and the red blood spilling out upon the grass.

Later in life, whenever I would hear news reports about a serial killer, they always seemed to include that one of the things these killers did when they were young, was to kill animals for pleasure... In fact, killing animals seemed to be a 'trigger' for them. As you might imagine, it always caused me to pause, and think back on my own experiences...

Perhaps I could have become a serial killer...

Fortunately, my days of killing animals was short lived. I remember when I was a teenager I was given a BB gun for my birthday. Shortly afterward I went out in the back yard looking for something to shoot--and found a robin sitting on a tree branch. After a few attempts, I finally hit the mark, and the bird fell dead at my feet. As I looked at the dead bird, I felt very guilty about what I had done.

I never hunted again.

The nice thing about this life we have been given, is that it is long enough to be able to change, and become a better person. No matter what we may have done in the past, we are given time to repent--to change our lives to become better people than we were.

If we follow the light of our conscience, God can, and will, make good men out of bad boys.