Thank You, Simon


There was this boy. He came up to me one day after class in a Bible College where I had given a seminar talk and told me it had blessed him. He smiled at me and I was pleased. He said he had liked hearing me talk because the way I said things had been easy on his ears. He was English and young - maybe twenty. I'm middle-aged - yet he gave me something. It seems to me now that it was part of himself, for he made a lasting impression on me. I noticed how thin he was - the bones of his face so prominent.

The following week, I looked out for him. I wanted to smile at him and respond to his friendliness. But I never spoke to him again. That week I found out he was dying. Hurt flooded my heart. It was like receiving news about a close friend. He went away soon after - away to die. His family in Britain wanted him home. The last time I saw him, he was laughing, cutting up a cake to share in farewell, trying to cheer up the people around him who were grieving for his sake. From the edge of the crowd of well-wishers, I wept as I watched him, awed by the inner joy that sustained him. Simon, thank you for your gift. I have it still.

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