Warm Truth on a Cold Day

Warm Truth

on a Cold Day

It was many years ago now but I can still recall the central images of the experience with no difficulty at all. It was a December day heading toward Christmas and a bone-chilling wind whipped in from the Irish Sea and rushed down Main Street, Bangor as I headed home, deep behind my scarf. That’s when I saw him coming in my direction; a red-haired kid wearing what looked like poor clothes for this kind of weather—flimsy looking gear, skinny jeans and a zip-up jacket. But he didn’t act cold and he wasn’t walking, he was striding and smiling while he was striding. Then I spotted what he was looking down at every now and then in between his taking quick glances at the people passing him—he had a dog on a lead, a German-Shepherd. He was obviously enamoured with the creature and the way it barely took its eyes off him showed it was a mutual affair.

I’m nervous around dogs especially if they’re coming my way and (maybe) especially if they’re the (alleged) “threatening breed” so I took a good look at him as he came and as he drew level. I need not have worried for he had eyes only for Red, as if he was waiting for a command he could obey. The animal was hardly a show dog. For a German-Shepherd its paws were too small and he was too thin. His head was small and too sharp and his coat was dull. No, he would have won no prizes in a contest but his young master looked at him as though he was the Crufts Supreme Champion.

I learned again that bitter afternoon that appearance isn’t everything; there’s a commitment that spurns the cult of looks. I saw two unspectacular companions talk of love with their eyes. In a world that worships at the altar of physical beauty I saw two that refused to bow!

These two reminded me of the tens of thousands of marvellous men and women who while they acknowledge the reality of physical beauty deny its supremacy or centrality. They’re people who’ve made commitments to one another and who refuse to let grey hairs, sickness, old age, feebleness or any such “limitation” be the lord and master of their lives. I thought of Ethel who had committed to me all those years earlier and I thought of Him who committed to us all and, astonishingly, finds us something to be delighted in (see Zephaniah 3:17).

My ears still stung, my eyes still watered and I still followed the clouds of breath as I walked home but I had been warmed by a red-haired kid and his run-of-the-mill friend.

©2004 Jim McGuiggan. All materials are free to be copied and used as long as money is not being made.

Many thanks to brother Ed Healy, for allowing me to post from his website, the abiding word.com.