THE HEART OF A POOR ROMANTIC
Here's what J.M. Barrie said in his book The Little Minister,
"Long ago a minister of Thrums was to be married, but something
happened, and he remained a bachelor. Then, when he was old, he passed
in our square the lady who was to have been his wife, and her hair was
white, but she, too, was still unmarried. The meeting had only one
witness, a weaver, and he said solemnly afterwards, 'They didna speak,
but they just gave one another a look, and I saw the love-light in their
eyes.' No more is remembered of these two, no being now living ever saw
them, but the poetry that was in the soul of a battered weaver makes
them human to us for ever."
"They didn't speak but I saw the love-light in their eyes."
Aren't
people like that weaver medicine for the heart? No matter how tough
their lives are they keep the romance in their souls and make the world
brighter. They're able to see what the rest of us—those of us made hard
and cynical by disappointment and loss—can no longer see. There may have
been a time when our hearts raced at the sight of someone we held
precious; there may have been a time when we were sensitive enough to
notice the shy but warm glances that passed between people but for many
of us those days are gone. The light has either gone out or grown dim
and we resign ourselves to live in the twilight until along comes a
"battered weaver" who defies the suffocating world and keeps his soul
alive. Barrie doesn't say if his battered weaver was married or was in
love with a particular someone or had ever been in love, but he makes it
clear that the toil-worn weaver was a lover and love has eyes.
Later
in his novel he tells how the preacher Gavin Dishart falls in love with
Babbie the gypsy girl who at first has little interest in the preacher.
But that was only at first—before he kissed her. "Until the moment when
he kissed her she had only conceived him as a quaint fellow whose life
was a string of Sundays, but behold what she saw in him now. Love, it is
said, is blind, but love is not blind. It has deeper clearer vision,
which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see
most clearly, and it is the lover's privilege."
Mind you, love
makes its home in the rich as well as the poor and this is a lovely
thing—and it's only fair to keep that truth in mind. But while we don't
deny that and we certainly don't begrudge the loveliness of love to the
wealthy, somehow we're more pleased at such good fortune when we see it
in the poorer people. Why is that do you suppose? The answer's obvious
isn't it!
In any case, people like the over-worked weaver won't
end up with a ton of money in the bank but they are able to uncover
treasure that all the tycoons in creation can't buy. You have to have
the heart, don't you see? They won't build grand skyscrapers or
multi-national companies [and those can be things to be proud of and to
rejoice in] but they build dreams and open to us the possibility of a
life that's filled with the joy of hope and warmth even in the absence
of many other comforts. Maybe you've met such people; the kind who
aren't too sweet to be wholesome but who are cheerful and sensitive to
the good and lovely that lies hidden just below the surface of an
unpromising appearance.
So what's our response to be? Bah! Humbug?
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