The Word in Focus with Dr Larry Taylor

No one ever knew from whence he came; staff, robe and sandals, like something out of nativity play or a Tolkien tale – his skin nearly black, his beard and eyebrows snowy white, both of which were long and bushy. A few called him a wizard; most said he was a demon possessed warlock. They locked their doors and loaded their guns as they peered suspiciously from closed curtains and dark rooms whenever he passed by. They warned one another not to look into his eyes, lest they be transformed into some hideous creature.

In the same village there lived a little boy born without feet or hands. The same ones who stood ready to lynch the strange old man said the boy was cursed by the gods. After all, his father left before he was born and his mother, a scullery-maid peasant, died in childbirth. Day after day, the poor little guy sat on the curb, his hand out for money or food. A few coins here or there; a kindly restaurant owner who brought him what was scraped from patrons’ plates.

It was a bright and beautiful spring day when the odd old man stopped, stooped, and sat down next to the little orphan beggar. For a long time, he said nothing. He pulled an apple from his cloak, cut it with a hunting knife and gave half to the boy who deftly held it between his stubby arms as he ate. Unafraid, the little boy stared into the old guy’s eyes. A warming glow ran over his spine. Where his feet and hands should have been burned as if on fire. The little boy, for the first time in his life, felt loved. The old man smiled. His eyes twinkled. He gave the boy a small pouch filled with seeds – magic seeds, he said they were, just before he walked out of town never to be seen again.

The little orphan crawled under a porch to sleep and dreamed of fields of lilies, flocks of bluebirds, frolicking lambs and kids and fawns. He awoke with an inner urgency compelling him to plant the seeds. And so, he did, in a patch of dirt overgrown with briars and weeds. For many days, he forgot about them until a voice spoke to him in another dream telling him to tend the plants. But when he pulled himself to where he had sown, he was speechless. There were no briars, no weeds – just a four-square-meter patch of land covered in magnificent flowers on thick six-foot stems – flowers of all shades and colors, blending, swaying, singing in time with a gentle breeze.

He sat mesmerized for several hours, soaking in the beauty, smelling the sweet fragrance. The hunger and pain he perpetually carried melted away. He crawled into their midst, and as he did, the flowers wrapped their stems around him. He felt warm, relaxed, cared for, loved, content. 

How long did he sleep? Was it hours or days or years? The village was different – streets of dirt were now paved, buildings that once were had been replaced with newer ones. Strange, motorized vehicles chugged and tooted.

He stood up. He stood up! He had feet! He had hands! He was whole. Running back to the flower patch, he plunged into the high stems, but this time, rather than lovingly embracing him, several sturdy stems held him back, preventing him from going further. At the center of the garden shone a brilliant light, yellow in tint, and in the middle of the light, a soft glow swirled slowly shooting rays of lovingkindness into the cosmos.

The sky darkened, night fell, stars studded the skies as meteors shot across the horizon. To the east, the aurora borealis danced green. A flash of light from an exploding supernova shot downward just as light from the center of garden flashed upward. When they met in the sky, bright white fireworks sparkles showered down over the garden, and each flower became a translucent sensate being – brilliant, glowing, radiating. Long robes and hair to their waists, they twirled and danced a soft and gentle sway as planets, stars, mountains, and seas sang with the music of the spheres.

The flower beings slowly parted while continuing to dance and sway rhythmically, singing their ethereal song of mercy – parted to open the way to the center where the light created the dance and bid all beings to follow. 

From the central light, a woman stepped. She radiated with an ineffable beauty, walked with steps of kindness. Ageless, unfading beauty, empathy. Her gentle smile filled the now whole boy with an inner warmth, a glow of shalom.

Had he had he a looking-glass, or a companion, he would have noticed that he was no longer a little beggar boy without hands or feet, but instead was a grown man with keen 

Insights and soothing hands. 

Out of the light, she came to him. 

They embraced and kissed, then danced into the sky.