Star of Light by Patricia M. St. John Read Free Book Online

of life.’” It was something like that, and whatever could it mean?
    What was the light of the world? He thought of the lamp burning in his hut at home and the flickering shadows on the wall. He remembered the moonlit journey, and the circling stars, and the sunrise on top of the mountain. Moonlight, starlight, sunlight, candlelight, and the orange glare of the city street—they had all faded now. He was sitting alone in a very dark alley, and the moon had not yet risen behind the wall of rock. But Jesus said that instead of darknessyou can have the light of life. “I am the light of the world.” He thought of Kinza, always living in darkness—could this light, which he had never seen, ever reach her? What did it all mean? If only it weren’t so dark … if only he wasn’t so hungry … if only he could have kept Kinza … if only he could run home to his mother.
    He stopped short in his thoughts and leaned forward eagerly. A crowd of boys came hurrying down the street, and at the corner they turned and waved. They were talking excitedly, all at once, so Hamid could not hear very well what they said, but he caught odd words: “Who is she?”—“Such a little girl!” —“Where is her mother?” Then the boys passed out of sight, and the street was left in silence.
    Then, because he was longing to know what had happened, he tiptoed out of his alley and prowled back to the rubbish heap. The door through which he had placed Kinza was fast shut, and no sound came from inside. What had happened? There was a light in an upper window, and Hamid crossed the street and stood with his back pressed against the wall of the house opposite, gazing upward. As he stood there looking, there passed across the lighted window the figure of a woman nestling a little child in her arms, and the child showed no sign of fear. She neither struggled nor cried. She lay at peace with one little hand uplifted to feel the face bowed over her.
    Hamid had successfully completed his mission. All was well with Kinza. Not knowing where else to go, he slunk back to the rubbish heap, and coveringhimself as best he could with his rags, he curled up against the wall to sleep, with his head resting on his arm.
    * John 8:12.

Doughnuts and Street Boys

    H amid woke early the next morning, stiff and cold, and blamed himself for wanting to sleep so near the house. Yet somehow it comforted him to know that Kinza was close to him. He wondered whether she had woken yet and what she was doing. He wandered along the street and out into the deserted market, wondering what to do, where to go, and, above all, where his breakfast would come from. He was sure that Kinza was eating well, and he rather regretted having given her that last crust.
    It looked like a golden city no longer. The shops were shuttered, and a few homeless beggars lay up against the temple steps, still fast asleep. Now that his mission was completed, Hamid felt horribly flat and tired, and he stood in the middle of the market longing for home.
    Then he heard a familiar sound—the harsh rattle of a stork’s cry and the rush of great wings as they swooped over him, just as they used to do when he was with his goats on his own mountain. He looked up quickly and saw it flying up high to its nest in the turret of an old fort. He stared at the massive old walls and found that he was standing opposite an old gate in an archway leading into a garden.
    The gate was wide open and there seemed to be no one to stop him. Hamid trotted across the cobbles, climbed the steps, and tiptoed through. He found himself standing in the most beautiful garden he had ever seen in his life. It was square in shape, and in the middle was a fountain surrounded by green lawns and colorful flower beds. But while he was enjoying it all, a keeper came through the archway and ordered him out.
    The town was beginning to wake up now, and Hamid found himself standing with his back to a little stall where a man was frying