He was on the city bus. Young man, he was wearing the soccer team’s ten shirt. The yellow color stood out in the crowded vehicle.

He called attention to the child he carried on his lap, by the strange screams he was making, at regular spaces. He denoted being a disabled person, some problem that, as laypeople, we did not identify.

The boy also showed having serious neurological problems, for he was some what relaxed, in his paternal lap, his arms along his body, his head hanging to one side.

Once and again, his body protruded forward, in a downward motion, as if gravity had sent him an appeal, to which he came, without resistance.

The father, without altering or showing disquietude, returned to accommodate the son, drying the drool, with delicacy, worrying about his comfort.

No sign of anger. On the contrary, infinite tenderness in every gesture. When they arrived at the destination, he rose from the seat where he was sitting, took his precious bundlein his arms, laid his head on his right shoulder, under the insistent complaints of the boy.

And there they both went, looking like one, both in a yellow shirt. One standing erect, walking steady, under the winter sun, chanting golden lights. The other, using his body as a support for his fragile and ungainly body.

How much love in a few gestures. How much tenderness in every action.

The boy, outwardly, did not deny realizing the care he was being targeted. However, to the closer look did not escape the fact that the expressions of the loving feelings calmed him down.

It is as if tenderness weaves a net, in order to pack the disabled and defenseless being.

We remember how many fathers and mothers there are, on Earth, caring for the lives of dependent children. Children with physical and mental disabilities.

Fathers and mothers who embrace their children, so alienated that they will never, in this life, express gratitude to them in any way.

Children with problems. Loved ones.

Souls that meet again under the pulse of love and the greatness of renunciations.

At night, when they leave their bodies, during the partial detachment from sleep, parents and children meet in the spiritual gardens, amidst an abundance of flowers, perfumes and colors.

It is there that the Spirit of the child embraces and cries with emotion: Thank you, dear parents, for helping me, defective flower bud, in the spring of live.

And the parents, among caresses, answer: Beloved child, count on us. We will be on Earth, in this life, your legs, your arms, your mind. The love that unites us overcomes all difficulties.

Then, they return to the physical bodies and, when the morning stretches, and the sun extends its golden bedspread over the raising day, they open their eyes on the flesh and restart their struggles.

*   *   *

Blessed be those who love, those who embrace other lives by renouncing their own.

Blessed be the fathers and mothers of the Earth, the velvety hands of God, on the planet, sustaining weak lives.

Spiritist Moment Team.
July 13.2018.