Village Shepherd

"I love chocolate," mumbled Paul as he stuffed the last fragment of Mars bar into his mouth.

Matthew grinned. "I love bubble gum," he announced.

Carolyn refused to be outdone. "I love — whatever group is number one!"

All the children looked at Sam. But his face clouded and he shook his head. "I don't love anyone or anything," he said and pushed his hand into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

There was a pause. After a while Carolyn said, "You must love your mum and dad. Everyone loves their parents. You have to."

"Huh!" exclaimed Sam. "I haven't got a dad, and my mum's got a new boyfriend and I hate him. And I hate her too, because she doesn't love me any more, she only loves him."

Nobody knew what to say, for they all suspected Sam was right. He'd never really known his father except for occasional visits, and his mother had lived with a succession of boyfriends. Some of them had been quite kind to Sam, but none of them had lasted. Just when he cautiously began to like and trust one of them, that one would disappear only to be replaced by someone new. Sam was growing up into something of a loner; it was safer that way, you didn't get hurt.

"Anyway," continued Sam, "I don't know what love feels like. But I do know you can't love chocolate or bubble gum or pop stars. You can like them really, really much, but you can't actually love them."

"Well, I know what love feels like," exclaimed Carolyn. "Maybe I don't actually love any pop stars, maybe I just adore them and like them loads and — and almost worship them and want to listen to them all the time over and over again. And maybe that's not real love. But it's a bit like love."

"No, it isn't," argued Paul. "I love my parents and even my little sister, but I don't want to be with them all the time. I don't adore them, and I certainly don't want to listen to them over and over again! But I do love them, and I'd be really sad if they weren't around. I guess I kind of rely on them. Perhaps that's love."

Matthew was frowning. "This is boring," he said. "All that love stuff is boring. You should see my big sister. She's 15 and she's always mooning around some boyfriend or other. They're always kissing and cuddling, it's disgusting."

"You don't need love," declared Sam. "I get on okay without it. Nobody loves me and I'm never going to love anyone else ever again. Love's awful. I used to love my mum, and look what happened to me. I just got hurt. If you don't love anyone, you don't get hurt."

They all heard what Sam said, but it didn't feel right. Deep down inside they all felt really sorry for Sam. Somehow they knew he was missing out on something important, even though they weren't sure exactly what it was. But they were all aware that Sam was becoming a lonely and solitary figure, that most people kept away from Sam because he was somehow prickly, and that they were the only friends he had. They also had the feeling that they were very important to Sam because he had no other friends. And they vaguely suspected that had something to do with a mild kind of love.

Carolyn lay on her back, gazing up into the sky. "I know who I really love," she suddenly announced. "I love God. It's easy to love God because he somehow lives inside each human being, and if he lives inside me it's like he's part of me and knows me really well. God loves every human being more than anything in the whole world. And you don't have to trail round after him, or think about him all the time, he's just there. Always around when you need him, but never interfering or making a nuisance of himself. You could love God, Sam. God would never let you down, and he'd always be there if you felt hurt. God is great."

Sam stared at her, a small frown between his eyes. But he looked thoughtful, and for the first time there was a hint of hope in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Come on," he said, "let's play football." And the children jumped to their feet and ran outside.