I don’t care much for tattoos, but I saw a young man yesterday with one that made me ask myself if there is really such a thing as a good tattoo.
He was a boy of 17 who had had a less than ideal life. His parents were not in his life so he spent most of it bouncing from one foster home to another; he could easily have been a juvenile delinquent. But, he was a really good guy, and I couldn’t help liking him. His smile was infections, his attitude uplifting, and his behavior admirable.
When he took his shirt off so I could examine his chest I noted a tattoo on his arm. There in six lines of cursive I learned his personal philosophy and understood why he was who he was:
I sought my soul,
But my soul I could not see.
I sought my God
But my God alluded me.
I sought my brother,
And, I found three.
There in navy blue ink on young, bronze skin was one of the secrets of life. I learn something from kids everyday. I hope you do too.