Several years ago we moved into what we knew could be a temporary home. The house we had been renting had been sold out from under us and the landlord wanted us out as soon as possible. It was, at that time, the holiday season and most people were more concerned with celebrating than they were with renting homes. We found it very difficult to find a place within our price range in the area we wanted to live in.

At last we found what we thought would do. This place had a few drawbacks. It, too, was up for sale, and could be sold out from under us. It was smaller than we wanted, and in an area that was a little too close to the rough part of town for our liking, but we didn't feel we had much choice at the time. And, on the plus side, the house was close to the children's dance studio, and near a bus stop so my husband could ride to work when I needed the car. So we rented the house and settled in and began to meet the neighbors. That's when I first met Tony.

Tony was an outgoing, yet at the same time shy young man of 12 when we first met. He came over because he knew we had kids and he wanted to meet them. His younger brother, Andy, trailed along behind his big brother. Tony was a normal looking kid--sandy hair, glasses slightly too big for his face and a lean frame upon which his old jeans and baggy shirts hung loosely.

Some kids you just take a liking to--Tony was one of those kids for me. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but he had a habit of getting into trouble. He was suspended from school a number of times, mostly for fighting. He always seemed to have his reasons. One of the times he was suspended he had gotten into a fight with a boy who had broken his glasses. His parents weren't wealthy, quite the opposite, so to him, having his glasses broken was a big deal.

Tony lived two houses down and across the road from us with his mother and step-dad. They both worked, and, as a result, had little time or energy for their boys; although I do think they dearly loved their children and tried their best with what they had.

I remember the day Tony brought over a school project and asked for my help with it. His mother couldn't sew, he said, and he knew I could. Could I help him with this stuffed bat that he was supposed to make? He seemed both surprised and pleased when I took the time to show him how to lay out the material, cut out the pattern and sew it together. I'll never forget how happy he was as he carried the finished product out the front door. He was going to go show his mother what he had made, he told me proudly, and I realized then how much he loved his mother and how badly he longed for her approval.

In the six months or so that we lived in that house, Tony and my daughter, who was two years older, spent a lot of time talking. Tony and my son, who was a year younger, spent a lot of time rough housing. They both liked Tony very much. In fact the whole family liked Tony.

But the house we were renting did sell. And once more we had to move. When we packed our things and got ready to move into a house on the other side of town, Tony declared his intentions of biking over to visit. But it was far away, and along narrow streets that weren't safe for bikers. Tony only made the trip a few times and then he stopped coming.

It wasn't long until we lost touch with Tony.

The family was pleased when, a few years later, we ran into Tony in the local grocery store where he had taken the job of bag boy. Older, taller, and more grown up, Tony still had the same shy smile I remembered so well.

Over the next three years we'd see him now and again at the store. I'd say hi as I hurried about my busy schedule. I didn't take the time to stand still and say, "How are you doing, Tony?" or, "Why don't you drop by and pay us a visit?" I wish now that I had. For Tony, you see, took his own life last week.

Of course we were all shocked. He'd seemed like such a hard working, nice young man. What could have gone wrong? What had driven Tony to do something so desperate? Was there something we could have done to prevent it? Feelings of guilt began to plague me.

Our daughter discovered that a young man with whom she worked also knew Tony. He wasn't really surprised by what had happened. Tony had been sucked into a culture that thrived on the negative. He said he had once gone to visit Tony and the music he had been listening to had been so loud and the lyrics so depressing that he had had to leave. He said that Tony also had his room painted black, and decorated with skulls and candles.

I was shocked. Tony was a sweet young man, wasn't he? How could he have become involved in anything so hurtful?

Then I remembered that few had had time for Tony. Was it possible that when he had needed help and guidance the most that there had been no one to steer him on the right path? He had found friends who had time for him, but they had directed him on the wrong paths--the paths that led him to his death.

Tony hadn't been born a 'bad' boy. He hadn't died, I believe, a 'bad' boy. Tony had died because he hadn't chosen the right path. He had allowed negative sounds, ideas and attitudes to enter his mind.

How many other young people have suffered the same fate as Tony? How many more will suffer the same fate if nothing is done? Perhaps not committing the extreme self-destructive act Tony did, but allowing their lives to become less than they could be; filled with doubts, fears and negative emotions. It's so easy to do. We live in a negative world. Every day we hear negative things reported in the news. Disaster movies flood the entertainment media. Violence on the big screen, as well as television, is commonplace. Horror movies seem popular with the younger generation nowadays. The more blood, gore and fear they experience the better they seem to like it. Many of the computer games our children play are filled with violence.

But what is this sort of input doing to our children? What seeds are being planted in their minds? What attitudes and choices will those seeds produce later on?

What can we do to help direct our children on the right path--the path that leads to happiness, instead of self-destruction?

What can we do to ensure that the young men and women we know don't end up being like Tony? We can't police their every move, going in and switching off their radio every time a song comes on we don't approve of. But we can talk to them. We can explain the consequences of too much negative input. We can encourage good, clean, healthy fun. Young people are instructed in God's Word to enjoy being young. "Rejoice, O young man, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth; walk in the ways of your heart, and in the sight of your eyes" (Ecclesiastes 11:9, first part). That doesn't mean young people should go out and smoke pot, engage in sexual activities and drink beer or hard liquor. God's way of fun is much better and doesn't hit you with a penalty later in life. "But know that for all these God will bring you into judgment" (Ecclesiastes 11:9, the rest of the verse).

And most importantly, we can set the right example. We can be positive ourselves. We can avoid constantly finding fault and picking apart everything wrong. That just makes children resentful anyway. The old saying is true, that the best defense is a good offense. We can defeat the negative by being positive ourselves.

Being positive in a negative world isn't easy. If necessary we need to ask God to renew in us and our family a right spirit--a spirit of joy and peace. This world is full of negative influences, but with God's help we can combat them.

Let's remember Tony--and reach out toward all the young men and women who battle this world's negative influence. Let's show them that life is worth living.