Along my path was this quaint little shop that brought me to a full stop. It seemed so old that no one would even bother to stop. Yet I was drawn to enter therein. No one was there except a very old Man. He gave me a warm smile and extended His hand. “Oh you have come to the right place,” said He to me. I continued being reserved but extended my hand. What gentleness, what meekness I sensed from such an old Man. Strangely, I felt what seemed like a rough spot in the palm of His hand, I couldn’t help but wonder what could have actually left that scar.
I glanced around and touched a book. He said, “Ah, that’s the Book of books. Get that and you will never go wrong.” I decided to take it as it was light and since my journey was long, I needed nothing that weighted me down. I was about to turn away when I saw a small box, on it was marked “Fruit”. Like a good salesman He followed my glance. He said: “Take it—a desert is coming up and you will need it for quenching your thirst—nothing like a good fruit.” “Well,” said I, “I would like to take it, as my bag was packed with a water-filled jug, but to my surprise it all leaked out. Yet I cannot buy it as my funds are now all gone.” “Oh My friend this one is free. It’s here for many, many years as all who came in just passed it right by. Oh, but what a buy!” He exclaimed. Pausing momentarily He then said: “I made a decision that the one who gives it a glance; to him it would be free. Take it, take it My dear friend. It is what will take you on the other side. Every day on My way home I pass by many a one having lost their lives from much tiredness and thirstiness. Here! I will wrap it for you.”
I left the store with great joy, and then I heard a voice that said: “It’s a taste of the fruit; it gives fullness of joy for evermore.” As I left the door I saw a beggar man. I gave him no coin as that I did not have, but I gave him my coat as he shivered in the cold. The voice again came and said in mine ear: “that was much love you showed that beggar man; now listen, under the box is a small drawer. Pull it down and you will find another coat and this will never turn to rags. It was for the old man—woven in his loom. Go on, put it on.”
I moved on with steadfastness as the night was coming on. Oh, another night of unrest I thought. With the box as my pillow I sheltered under a huge overhanging rock as a storm was passing through, then I heard as if it was the old man’s voice saying: “My peace I give unto you; my peace I leave with you.” I awoke the next morning with perfect peace, with the journey still ahead, I hastened on.
The day seemed long and toilsome yet with longsuffering and unwavering steps I persevered. Suddenly I came upon a child who had just lost his dear father to the severe cold, coupled perhaps with hunger and thirst. I bent down and said to him, “come dear one I will take you along.” In the silence of the morning came a still small voice and I heard him say: “That was a true spirit of goodness that you displayed.”
With the child on my back I journeyed on. What must we eat? I thought to myself. I saw what could have been a very good feast but I know that it would only cause us ill, so with my little temperance we continued on. To our delight we came to a small Oasis that gave us fresh water. Then I remembered the Book of books, on opening, I came across the words, “The Just shall live by his faith”. So with hope and faith we continued on.
The little child looked down and said in trusting grateful tones: “You are so kind and gentle.” “Actually! Meek is what he is,” intercepted a voice. I blushed as I felt that far, far from me.
As we travelled along, with childlike curiosity the little child asked: What’s in that box that you hold so close? “Oh, it’s a fruit,” said I. “Ah that’s it–we can eat that fruit. I will open it right now,” and so I did, but to my surprise there was nothing therein, except the words, written in gold: “Fruit of the Spirit”.
Just then a familiar-sounding voice called out: “Come, follow Me; I will take you home; you will dine and drink with Me.” We turned and saw the old man, dressed now in what seemed like a spotless robe, woven in pure white.
By: Rose Powell