An old man walking along the road saw a young boy who was lying in the ditch crying. The old man, stepping off the road and sitting on the side of the ditch, asked, "Why are you crying, little boy?" The little boy, half asleep, alone and filled with fear of the nightmare returning, heard the old man's gentle inquiring question and ceased crying. He became afraid of the stranger with the caring question and said nothing. "It's ok," said the old man, "I won't hurt you. I have not come to condemn you. I am on my way to visit a friend. Would you like to join me?" The little boy laughed in a sick, selfish, lonely way, hiding the hidden. Lifting his head from the dirt, he replied, "Go away old fool. Leave me alone." Holding on, the old man tried again to befriend the child. "Why are you so sad, dear child and why are you crying in a ditch?" The little boy became angry and lashed out: "What is your problem, old man? Why do you bother me?" The old man smiled a radiating smile that filled the youth's eyes and face. Stroking a beard that was so long and thick that it could house a bird’s nest, the old man slowly stood up and bid the boy goodbye with a nod of his head. As the old man was turning to go, the little boy felt sleep coming on and the nightmare returning and he rushed for help saying, "Where you going?" The old man stopped without hesitation and turning, said, "I'm going to visit my friend in the country. You may come along with me, if you wish. She has a beautiful garden with smells and sights that soothe my aging bones. She serves good food. Are you hungry? Would you like to join me on my way to her?" The little boy slowly picked himself up and standing brushed the dirt from his clothes and climbed up the side of the ditch. As the boy neared him, the old man reached out a hand to the shivering child, a hand whose flesh showed an eternity of untold stories. The little boy dug deep within and reaching out of himself rested his hand in that of the Father. The old man continued smiling a radiating smile, the boy knew so well before his parents had died that morning, before the boy first knew real suffering. Waving his free hand before him ushering in a new kingdom, they began walking. Their hands glided apart as they walked onward, freely, side by side, into the unknown, detached, yet never indifferent. |
