FAT CHANCE
FAT CHANCE
He couldn’t exactly conceal himself behind a cloud, as he often wished, and Izzy was finding it rather difficult to remain inconspicuous as he sauntered among his High School classmates after the day’s final buzzer had sounded.
Izzy Chancey weighed a little over 300 pounds and the Cushing’s syndrome he bore made each step a laborious task. He moved so slowly that kids often got the impression he was standing still.
“It wasn’t the beating that hurt the most, it was the fact I felt my old man was enjoying it,” Jason Rickett was quietly telling Tom as they stood by their open lockers.
Izzy could hear every word but made no eye contact with the pair of boys.
“Have you ever considered fighting back?” Tom asked his friend.
“Hey, this is a private conversation, meat sack,” Jason shouted at Izzy.
Izzy kept walking, hanging his head a little lower.
“That’s right, keep going,” Jason scolded. “And try not to eat that second pork roast for dinner tonite. Save some for the rest of your family.”
Kids up and down the hall were glaring at Izzy as if he’d done something wrong, fueling his mystique as a pariah.
Roger Morton, a linebacker on the school team and a big boy in his own right, now blocked Izzy’s path.
“Snooping around again, nosy man? Roger bellowed. “Why can’t you learn to mind your own business?” The cast on Roger’s right foot made him hobble, but he was still a formidable presence.
“No one likes you hanging around, Chancey. Remember when you lasted five minutes at football tryouts last year? The coach couldn’t bear to look at you,” Roger said. “You try to mingle with us but no one wants you around. Fat chance you’ll ever have any friends at this school. That’s what we call you, Fat Chance.”
Izzy’d heard that before. Heard it all.
“Excuse me,” Izzy tried to walk around Roger and plowed into Cassie, causing her to drop all her books.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you sweaty slob. Leave some room for us,” Cassie yelled as she squatted down to collect her possessions. “If you made me wrinkle my homework I’ll have to redo it and I’ll be very mad.”
“I’m so sorry,” Izzy said, inadvertently casting a glance at Roger, who’s face had turned red.
“What good are you?” Roger hissed. “Get outta here.”
What good am I? Fat Chance.
As the words echoed in his ears, his mind wandered to the story he’d heard his mother tell a dozen times.
“Why did we name our boy Izzy? When he was born at 15 pounds, one of the snippy nurses made the remark Is he the biggest baby you’ve ever seen and I countered with Is he the most beautiful baby boy you’ve ever seen and I named him Izzy on the spot.”
Izzy had to admit it was better than Ralph or Gunther for he was originally to have been named after one of his grandfathers.
Fat Chance.
He finally made his way to the outdoors and he worried that his sudden onset of fatigue would prevent him from walking the two blocks to his home.
Other kids stared at him, as they always did, and although he could feel the contempt in their eyes, no one else tossed insults or derogatory remarks at him as he shuffled down his escape route.
As he walked he contemplated how we would struggle with his homework but there was one assignment in particular he was eager to complete.
“How did you get so fat?” said little 6-year-old Bennie Pugh from his front porch as Izzy entered his block. “What do you eat?”
Bennie was a scrawny little guy that was already well on his way to meanness.
Perspiring heavily, Izzy paused to lick the sweat from his upper lip and that sent the wrong message to Bennie.
“Do you eat little children?” Bennie cried out and bolted around his house into his backyard.
June Chancey greeted her son inside the front door and love beamed up at him from her smile.
“Did you have a good day, Izzy?”
“I had a busy day, Mom. Harvesting was good. Now I have a lot to do,” Izzy said, “so I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“God bless you, son.”
His bed looked awfully inviting as he entered the room and he saw a new 5XL T-shirt laying there. It was a black shirt with white lettering that read BE THE MOON on the front. He flipped it over and the words read REFLECT THE SON.
It was a shirt he’d wanted and he would proudly wear it to school tomorrow. He could already hear the criticism he’d receive.
“Thanks, Mom,” he yelled.
“You’re very welcome,” his Mom shouted back.
Izzy plopped down in the large executive chair by his desk and as was his custom, studied the postcard-sized plaque his mother had handmade that was under the glass top.
GOD LOVES ME AND I’M IMPORTANT TO HIM.
Izzy was exhausted but he wanted to do something first. He sat forward and folded his hands on the desk and closed his eyes.
He spoke softly but succinctly.
“Dear God, I want to thank you for this day that I devoted to you with all my love. The suffering you endured for me gives me the power to endure suffering for you. There are a lot of people that need your help that may not ask you themselves and that’s what I want to talk to you about again today.”
“Dear God, please bless Missy Parker and help her mother to make a fast and full recovery from her heart attack.”
“Dear God, please soften the heart of Jason Rickett’s father, so he can live in your light and love his son instead of punishing him.”
Fat Chance. What good are you?
“Dear sweet God, please heal Roger Morton’s ankle so he can get back to playing the football he loves so much. He’s not a bad boy, just angry that he can’t do what he loves the most.”
“Dear God, please enlighten Cassie so she’s not failing all her classes and let her see the value of having you on her side.”
“Dear God, please help Mr. Pugh find a job to put food on his family’s table and lift up little Bennie to your heart so he sees how much you love him.”
“I know it’s quite a lot for you to do but I ask for them in the name of Jesus. And for me, dear God, I ask you to give me strength to remain your faithful servant. Amen.”
When Izzy opened his eyes, a tear fell and dotted the “i” in HIM on his plaque.
Loved it!
God is our strength.
Nice little story
Izzy is a wonderful example of forgiving those who hurt us, whether intentionally or unintentionally. This kind of forgiveness is only possible through the grace of Jesus. Izzy really is the ‘I’ in Him. He’s what I want to be with the people who have hurt me.
Thank you for your kind words, Pat. The “harvesting” that Izzy achieves is something all of us can aspire to do. How often do people you know tell you their troubles…or how many times have you overheard a stranger speak of their troubles and why their hearts are heavy? We can all make a mental list every day and why not say a little prayer on their behalf. After all, we are all compatible. Even if it takes a little effort.