I could not stop reading, I was mesmerized. You are an example of the reasons I come to NewsReal to read and comment. I have laughed so hard, the dogs woke up, I have been inspired, I have bcome so angry or impassioned I could hardly type. I have also wept.

I could not stop reading, I was mesmerized. You are an example of the reasons I come to NewsReal to read and comment. I have laughed so hard, the dogs woke up, I have been inspired, I have bcome so angry or impassioned I could hardly type. I have also wept.

While alone walking I met a small person who did not walk normally,
nor walked on the road but along its side and felt for direction.
Not dressed in anything I recognized as normal clothing, I did
let curioscity overcome caution and I called out. Not being a big
kid and skinny as can be I still scared this person and I found that
hard for me to beleive. Over-friendly I guess but at that age so what.
The closer I got the more this stranger in appearance, this small man
was. I grasped that on close inspection, he was in rags, torn shoes,
bare feet protruding and to my growing fear terribly deformed.

Now rather than make my appearing worse I simply said “high my name
is Billy” This person did not speak for quite some time and
found me harmless and so moved along not seeming to hear any of
my questions. The time came for him to move up a small hard to see
path away from the road, I stoped and stared expecting him to
fade away but he stoped and waved for me to follow. I did so and
discovered the most unusual person of my young life. He was left
behind by his family many years earlier, deformed at birth he was
never taken out of his home, sickly and hardly able to talk at all
he found himself alone, utterly alone one dark morning, abandoned
by a roadside not far from where I met him.

I was in for a tale of sadness that made me weep and left me
speechless. He had survived living on scavanging late in the
evening or early in the morning when no one was about. He said
in his strange young old voice with horribly broken words that
I was the first person to speak to him that he could remember and
he avoided everyone always, the fluke was I was a child out of
school which did not happen there. I followed him to his dwelling,
a small shack, pieced together with pitifully deformed hands.
He was delighted to have someone near for what I found out was
the first in several years and the only one to come to where he
lived ever. Later on I would find out more about him and how
a few locals knew about him but kept it secret so as for him to
keep his freedom and be kept from being put in an institution.

He had nothing. For several weeks I would sneak off for a
visit and words were not so important for me so young to
visit and experience giving up some time to someone who’s name
I could not understand. I followed him to the back of a local church
where he would wander about the stones and crosses, most from the
late 1700′s and early 1800′s. He pointed to the cross on top of
the church, I gave him all I knew about it and the church and
the graves. It seems he was one for listening to the singing
coming from the building on Sunday. His vocabulary was limited,
he understood Church and people and worship and Jesus. He had
nothing. I think I understood and hope I understand when he
pointed to a grave and the large stone cross and I beleive he
said “I can go” I said “I will to, someday” I think it was a
smile but it was the last I saw of him. I learned more over
time. He did give me one thing, from a folded paper he produced
a badly shaped wooden cross, cut from dry wood, so uneven, so
out of shape, so like him and he pressed it into my small hand.
A person with nothing, he had nothing but gave me the symbol of
what would be all to me and most of the world. As life goes by
I see how more and more every day, everyone I know seems so much
like a small man who had nothing.

“Before I formed you in your mother’s womb I knew you. Before you were born I set you apart I appointed you to be a spokesperson to the nations.”

http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/dennett06/dennett06_index.html

http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/dennett06/dennett06_index.html

I derive much comfort from the fact that God created me. That is purpose enough for me.

God uses the least amount of pain (and perhaps the most pleasure) to bring the most people into the deepest love, without violating free will or perfect justice.