TAMMY BOWERS

by Tammy Bowers

On the day of his assassination, Abraham Lincoln pardoned a young deserter saying, "Well, I think this boy can do us more good above ground than underground."

Do you have a hero? These days people rarely have a real-life hero they want to emulate. Kids admire professional athletes but all too often the personal lives of famed sports personalities should not be imitated.

If I'd been asked a decade ago about my hero, I would have blurted Abraham Lincoln. Not just because he abolished slavery, but also due to his mercy and forgiveness. At the end of the Civil War, Lincoln didn’t want to execute Rebel officers as his advisors requested. Instead, he strived to bridge the gap four years of war created between the North and South. Executing southern officers wasn’t the way to do that. So, Lincoln showed mercy. Over and over, he also pardoned young Union deserters indicating it was normal for sixteen and seventeen year old boys to turn around and run when guns were pointed at them. Lincoln was never on a power trip—he simply did what he knew to be right. 

President Lincoln was described as having an 'air of sadness' about him. That dear man lost two young sons to sickness. The death of a child is something parents never get over. It wasn’t until the last few years, have I fully understood what 'an air of sadness' means. It’s a real, tangible thing. I know this, because I see it every day in my son’s eyes.

In 2003, a bright and energetic sixteen-year-old boy named Kevin suffered a grand mal seizure and after a week on life-support, moved to Heaven. He had no prior seizure history. His shocking death still brings deep heartache and disbelief.

My son, Dusty, was fifteen at the time and Kevin was his best friend. They’d been two peas in a pod since age five. Almost every weekend Kevin came to our house, or Dusty went to his. They were in youth group together, roommates at camp, and even accompanied each other on family trips. Soon the two sets of parents became good friends and vacationed together as well.

The word ‘close’ isn’t adequate to describe the kinship of these boys—a friendship Dusty desperately needed, especially in junior high. Dusty had been academically on the outside looking in since second grade. Always behind in reading and writing, he attended summer school, worked with private tutors, and took special education classes. Not until the summer before junior high did a specialist determine the cause. He suffered from a rare reading disability similar to dyslexia. He needed to be taught to read all over again using a different method that could overcome his condition.

We pulled Dusty out of public school and I taught him at home. For an athletic and social boy, homeschool was torture. He didn’t have the opportunity to make new friends at the new junior high, or go to school dances and pep assemblies. His prior classmates seemed to move ahead and leave Dusty behind.

Except for Kevin—a bright and good-looking kid who received excellent grades. Kevin never looked down on Dusty or shunned him. Kevin was Dusty’s life-raft to inclusion and self esteem. They played basketball, golf, and hours of video games. They plotted their high school years together on the golf team—Kevin’s favorite sport, and on the basketball team—Dusty’s favorite. Life would be better when they became freshman at the same school.

High school finally arrived and Dusty said goodbye to homeschool. Both boys tried out for the basketball team and made it through each round to the end. Then on the last day of tryouts, both were cut. But that was okay, they were together.

Spring came and the two freshmen tried out for golf. Kevin, born with a putter in his hand, easily made the team; but Dusty didn’t. He was cut, embarrassed, and heartbroken—once again on the outside looking in.

The following winter Dusty didn’t make the basketball squad either. He purposed in his heart to make the golf team with Kevin. It never happened. The winter of their sophomore year, January 10, 2003, Kevin—a Godly child—moved to Heaven, leaving his friends and family reeling. Dusty couldn’t bring himself to try out for golf after all. Just looking at a golf club was like looking at Kevin hooked up to tubes and machines all over again.

Dusty’s happy-go-lucky personality disappeared, as did the twinkle in his eye. Both were literally gone, replaced by a constant air of sadness so tangible it filled his every pore. But something new also consumed him...a deep longing to help kids.

Many teenagers get mixed up in drugs, sex, and alcohol in high school. But not Dusty, who refused to stand by and do nothing while some teenagers threw their precious lives into harmful situations. Instead, this hurting teen reached out to other kids. With human mortality haunting his thoughts, he boldly pulled friends to youth group and church camp.

When Dusty tried out for basketball his junior year, we prayed his third try would be the charm. It wasn’t. However, that spring he made the golf team and dedicated the year to his best friend, Kevin.

Most kids give up trying out for sports if they don’t make it as sophomores. They abandon their goals, not willing to expose themselves to any more rejection. Well, Dusty isn’t most kids. He refused to let go of his high school basketball dream.

His senior year began and Dusty practiced in the school gym every afternoon during football season. That winter, he showed up for basketball tryouts again. Would he be cut a fourth year in a row? We held our breath and at last his dedication was rewarded. He made the varsity basketball squad. He wasn’t a starter, but received some good playing minutes and became part of a team that took seventh in State. What a fun time—a rare experience he'll treasure for the rest of his life—something great to remember about high school.

Of course it didn’t overshadow the horrific loss of his best friend, nor did it shed his constant air of sadness—not even close! But that winter, basketball was a beautiful distraction and a dream finally realized for a persevering young man.

On graduation day, Dusty wore mementos of Kevin. He wanted to hold his best friend close during the milestone ceremony. Without Kevin, Dusty didn’t have a walking partner. "I don’t care who I walk with. I’ll just be with anyone who doesn’t have a partner like me." He whispered as he fought to control his emotions.

And now Dusty has graduated from college. Reading textbooks proved difficult; however, he never wavered from his determination to graduate with a degree in Youth Ministries. His goal to help teenagers has never faded. Dusty is now in seminary for his Mastors in Theology. He is determined to one day be a youth pastor.  

People often turn to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain when they cannot handle the bad parts of life. But not Dusty. Instead, he dedicated his life to God and helping teenagers who hurt inside or feel out of place. He wants to help them choose the high road in life and not the path that leads to drug addiction, teen pregnancy, crime and jail. He also wants kids to know that if he can graduate from college, anyone can. 

That’s pretty amazing for a simple boy from Oregon; a boy I admire. Not just because he’s my son, for I would love him no matter what, but because he put his personal pain aside to help others. Because he purposed in his heart to stay away from drugs and alcohol. Because he iss not ashamed of his Christian beliefs even though they go against peer pressure. Because he perseveres. Because he chose to rise in adversity.

These are not the usual qualities of teenagers, rather they are rare qualities found in heroes. He may not be a hero like our famed sixteenth president, but he’s my hero. He’s Dusty Bowers, an unknown American hero.