Father’s Footsteps
Back in the summer I took a day out to go and see my son who is working and living in Central London. He was not going to be free until the evening so I decided to visit Honor Oak Park in South East London where my family lived until I was 9 years old.
I have only been back there two or three times since we lived there all those years ago, so it was with great interest that I went, expecting to see how much had changed. Actually for London which is constantly evolving, it had changed very little.
My school was there looking just the same, the High street and the church on the corner were just as I remembered them. The street where we lived was much the same as well and as I walked along it, memories of childhood came flooding back.
- Memories like the Saturday afternoons when my friends and I would take our pocket money to the shops in the High Street and bring back a pomegranate each (how innocent and healthy was that)?! We would then sit on the pavement and suck all the jelly off each pip which we would then spit into the road (not quite so innocent)!
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- Memories like the London smog of the 1950's. One day my mum picked me up from school when I was about 6 years old at 3pm in the afternoon and the fog was so black and thick that we could not see more than one meter ahead - it was really frightening for a little boy.
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Our house was at the beginning of the road and as I walked to the top of the street on my sentimental journey, I found Sandra Page’s house. Sandra was one of my friends and her mother and father were very good friends of my parents.
When I was about 4 years old my mother went into hospital for an operation and Mrs Page offered to look after me. The decision was made that I would sleep at their house - which was OK, except that I was a nervous little boy and I remember lying awake unable to sleep on the first night.
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Then suddenly I heard footsteps outside.
With the sharp hearing of a child, I instantly recognised them as my father’s footsteps. Dad had shoes with leather soles and possibly steel on the heels and his walk was very distinctive. What a comfort it was to hear those footsteps! Dad had visited my mum in hospital and then came to see if I was OK. Just his presence with me for a few moments was all I needed – and yes, then I was OK and fell peacefully asleep!
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In the Garden of Eden Adam and Eve heard the sound (the footsteps?) of the Lord God as he was walking in the cool of the day (Genesis 3:8). It seems that God coming to visit was a normal event for them. Can it be that God loved and longed for fellowship with those that He had created in His own image as much as they needed His presence with them?
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This time however, the couple hid themselves away, the fellowship had been broken by sin - and fear came with it (nothing has changed).
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Since then it has always been difficult - even for born again people - to maintain fellowship and live consistently in the presence of God, but God Himself still longs for us to spend time with Him and when we do – just to ‘hear those footsteps’ is all we need.
They tell us that if He is with us - everything is OK!
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