THE YOUNGSTER and his mother walked along the dusty country lane into the glowing sunset. Towards them strode a priest, his long cassock flapping in the evening breeze. To the boy it seemed as if he had just walked out of the bright colorful sky, trailing beams of light. As they came closer, the boy’s face broke into a big smile, and his small cheerful voice piped clearly: “Good evening Father!”
The priest’ looking straight ahead, solemnly bowed his head and passed by.
“Mum he didn’t even see me!”
“Priests are busy, John. They haven’t always time, for boys.”
“But our Lord had time for young people, and when I become a priest I’ll always have time for boys.”
Margaret Bosco smiled. Her little son John a priest? Well and why not? He was bright, and he knew and loved his catechism and prayers. If only he could go to school… if only his father were still alive… if only they had a little money…
They kept walking on to their small farm cottage on top of the rolling hills that encircle the city of Turin. The boy kept up his lively chatter. The mother prayed
The priest’ looking straight ahead, solemnly bowed his head and passed by.
“Mum he didn’t even see me!”
“Priests are busy, John. They haven’t always time, for boys.”
“But our Lord had time for young people, and when I become a priest I’ll always have time for boys.”
Margaret Bosco smiled. Her little son John a priest? Well and why not? He was bright, and he knew and loved his catechism and prayers. If only he could go to school… if only his father were still alive… if only they had a little money…
They kept walking on to their small farm cottage on top of the rolling hills that encircle the city of Turin. The boy kept up his lively chatter. The mother prayed
No comments:
Post a Comment