Village Shepherd

When he grew up, Simon was going to be a great football player. He had decided this at a very young age, as soon as he was big enough to kick a football. He practised and practised not only kicking his football, but controlling it with his feet. He'd often go to the playing field by himself, in all kinds of weather, and dribble the ball up and down the field. He became so proficient that when he played at school, the rest of the team thought the ball must be stuck to his boot.

Simon always returned from the playing field the same way. He'd run across the field, with the ball at his feet, then when he reached the far side he would pick up the ball, cross the road, run round the corner, down a couple of side streets and home.

On this occasion, he found himself taking a different route. He was quite surprised, for he didn't recall making a conscious decision to go home a different way, but here he was at the back end of the playing field in a tangle of streets which he hardly knew, and rather further from his home than usual.

Simon shrugged his shoulders and went into a sweet shop for a packet of sweets. Then he took his time about going home, looking around him at the new surroundings. The streets were much quieter here than in his own neighbourhood. There were no children playing, and not many cars moving about.

Then Simon thought he heard an unusual sound. He listened again more intently, and sure enough it was someone sobbing. Simon followed the sound, moving slowly and carefully so as not to alarm whoever was crying. As he rounded a corner, he came upon an elderly lady leaning against the wall.

"Can I help you?" Simon asked politely.

The old lady seemed to shrink into herself and looked at him with terror in her eyes. "Don't hurt me again, oh please don't hurt me again," she quavered, trembling.

Simon was horrified. "I wouldn't hurt you," he said, very gently. Then he added, "What happened? Where are you hurt?"

As the old lady turned her face fully towards him, Simon could see she was bruised and bleeding. "Where do you live?" he asked. The old lady didn't seem to know, and she wasn't able to tell him her name. Simon thought quickly, then he said, "Can you walk?"

When the old lady nodded, he took her arm and walking very slowly guided her down the street and along the next one until they reached the police station. Then he went in with her and explained how he had found her. He asked the police to ring his home so that his parents wouldn't be worried about him, then he sat with the old lady as the police gently questioned her and a doctor came to examine her.

It turned out that the old lady lived in a residential home, and had been out shopping when two teenage boys had set upon her, knocked her to the ground, hit her around the face and run off with her money and her shopping. She wasn't badly hurt, but she was very shocked and shaken. When the police took her back to her home, Simon went with her.

They became good friends after that, and Simon often used to visit after he had played football in the park. The old lady often remarked how fortunate it was that Simon had chosen to go that way home on that particular day, otherwise her injuries might have been much more serious.

Simon just smiled and said nothing, for he knew he hadn't made any decision himself but had been guided by the Holy Spirit within him. And he knew the Holy Spirit had guided him in another way too, for he knew now that when he grew up he wouldn't be footballer but a policeman.

"How strange the way things turn out," he thought to himself, "and how lucky I am that God moved me in that direction. May I always follow his guidance."