Argus title : I can’t bear to hear a child crying
The first time I saw Ron Bowman I was with my mother in St Peter’s Church. He arrived late and sat down across the aisle a few rows in front of us. I noticed that his legs seemed stiff and that he walked on crutches. He appeared to be in pain, but had one of the broadest smiles I’ve ever seen.
Over the weeks I’ve observed that Ron is a creature of habit and before each service begins, goes through the same routine. He hangs his hat on his crutch and then places a silver framed photograph on the narrow wooden shelf in front of him. Next to it, he positions seven or eight small soft toys, each of which is turned towards the altar, kneeling in apparent prayer.
Eventually, I became so intrigued that I asked him about the photograph and why he brought the toys to church. He replied: “It’s because of my wife”. Continue reading
