Running along the kerb

Derek used to run along the kerb on his way to school and we would watch as he went by. He was tall, and his long loping strides made a plopping sound as leather hit granite with remorseless accuracy. We were full of admiration as to how he balanced so well. He never seemed to slip, never putting a foot wrong.

In those days, it was a rare thing for cars to be parked along our street. There were one or two that parked from time to time but they didn’t seem to be there when Derek ran by.

Many of us would attempt to copy Derek’s feet of balance; few would succeed to any degree. After a little while we would tire in our attempts to emulate him and go to watch the goods trains shunting.

One day we moved away to a new house, in an area where everyone had a driveway and no one ran along the kerb. Many years later I called back, to my old neighbourhood. I went back to remember; to see if our old house still looked the same, if the three fir trees in our front garden were still there, if the brass lion’s head door knocker still adorned the front door.

I walked back down our old road; it didn’t seem as long as I remembered. The fir trees had gone, the bay window from which we jumped down to the front lawn below my brothers bedroom window did not seem as high as I recalled. The most striking thing however was the lion head door knocker, someone had painted it a garish yellow.

I walked on toward the railway sidings. I had not gone far when I noticed a man standing beside the kerb, looking along the road. I thought I half recognised him. No, it couldn’t possibly be Derek, could it?

“Derek?” I queried, The man turned, but there was no recognition in his face. He wore a blank expression and was mumbling to himself. Without acknowledging me he turned back to the kerb and began to run along the pavement. Every now and then between the parked cars he would stab a foot at the kerb, then dart round the next car and stab the kerb again.

Suddenly I felt saddened, was Derek still stuck in the past? Had he not moved on?

At once guilt overwhelmed me. I had changed, moved on and had not said anything. Worse still, God had done something in my life that had changed me and was, (I hoped) continuing to change me. But I had said nothing. I felt weak and unprepared for this. My heart was in my mouth. I felt pity for Derek stuck, as it seemed in late childhood.

I hated myself for being so selfish and fearful, I said a hasty prayer and ran after Derek. I called his name, but Derek was nowhere to be seen.

Had I imagined the encounter? It all seemed real enough. I determined to grasp the opportunity next time I meet Derek to tell what God had done, and how there is forgiveness for all, that is if I could summon up the courage.

Despondently I made my way home. I paced around the room unable to sit still, I had lost my appetite and with it my ability to concentrate on anything.

I realised I had to do something, I couldn’t put it off any longer, remarkably directory enquires still had someone with the same surname living at his old family address.

I dialled, “Derek,” I queried? “I don’t suppose you remember me, and I you may think me crazy but were you on Evesham Road this afternoon? I thought I saw you.”

“Yes,” he sounded a little hesitant. “I was there, I’m sorry I ran off, I was drumming up courage to speak to you, and bottled out.

My mood changed instantly, Trying not to sound excited I said, “That’s OK. What did you want to say?

Derek begun quietly but speeded up and got louder, “I wondered if you were dwelling on the past. I used to but then I met Jesus and found the present and the future much more attractive….

© Andrew March Penrallt Baptist Church 2009