congregants most needed to hear, and this felt like one of those moments.
* * *
“…so was the apprentice a bad man?” asked one of the youngest children, lisping through a gap in her teeth.
Amadeo had read for about half an hour in his slow, strong cadence, flourishing the lines like a storyteller and doing his best to hold his ragged little audience’s attention.
“Not at all,” he said, closing the book and resting it on his lap, “and that is the most important lesson in the ‘Parable of the Lazy Apprentice.’ He was very good at his job, but he only did exactly what his master told him to, no more and no less. When problems started to pile up, well, he
could
have fixed them himself, but he just kept following his instructions and turned a blind eye. That let the trouble get worse and worse—”
“Until it was too late,” Freda said. She leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed and one rough shoe pressed back against the brick, keeping a hard eye on the other children.
Amadeo nodded. “The Gardener gave each of us the power to change the world. Maybe just in small ways, but when trouble comes to your neighbors’ doorsteps, there’s always
something
you can do about it. What might be a tiny thing to you can be a powerful blessing to the person you help. It’s not enough to coast through life and think you’re being good just because you’re following the rules; that was the apprentice’s mistake. The Gardener needs all of you to be his hands in the world. To root out weeds and plant new seeds. That takes creativity, and courage, and hard work. And I
know
you can do it.”
That was when he realized why he’d picked that story today.
Preacher, heed your own words
, he thought.
“Children, I need to be going. I have some work to attend to. Don’t worry, I’ll be back next week, and I
might
have some more toffees.”
He extracted himself from the tangle of hugs as best he could. Freda followed him a short distance away and tugged his sleeve.
“You okay?” she said. “You got a funny look on your face.”
He chuckled. “Probably shame. I realized I haven’t been following my own advice. Everything all right out here?”
“As all right as it gets. Listen, though. The cold months are coming, and the way things were last year…” Her voice trailed off as she looked back toward the children. “I don’t want to bury any more toddlers. Ground’s too hard for digging in the cold.”
“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to push for the funds for a relief effort, so everyone would at least have a fire to warm up by and one hot meal in their bellies, but the College keeps saying you should all be in the foundling home—”
“They are
not
going to any damn foundling home,” Freda snapped, her eyes fierce. “Not
that
damn foundling home. You
know
why.”
“I do,” he said, holding up an open hand but keeping his distance. He didn’t try to touch her, not when she had that look on her face. “It’s all bureaucracy. One nest of red tape after another.”
“What about the Holy Father? Why won’t he help us?”
Amadeo shook his head, feeling helpless. “It’s complicated. The pope can only sign off on certain kinds of expenditures, and the cardinals on everything else. It was a compromise to keep any one side…you know, I’m not going to bore you with a history lesson. You’re not getting the help you need down here, and I know it. I’m sorry. I’ll take another run at my contacts in the College and see where things stand.”
He dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of copper coins.
“Here,” he said, “in the meantime—”
Freda shook her head. “I earn my own money, don’t need your charity. It’s the little ones I’m worried about.”
And I’m worried about how you’re earning your money
, he thought. There were only so many job opportunities for a fourteen-year-old girl in the slums.
“And you watch over them,” he
* * *
“…so was the apprentice a bad man?” asked one of the youngest children, lisping through a gap in her teeth.
Amadeo had read for about half an hour in his slow, strong cadence, flourishing the lines like a storyteller and doing his best to hold his ragged little audience’s attention.
“Not at all,” he said, closing the book and resting it on his lap, “and that is the most important lesson in the ‘Parable of the Lazy Apprentice.’ He was very good at his job, but he only did exactly what his master told him to, no more and no less. When problems started to pile up, well, he
could
have fixed them himself, but he just kept following his instructions and turned a blind eye. That let the trouble get worse and worse—”
“Until it was too late,” Freda said. She leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed and one rough shoe pressed back against the brick, keeping a hard eye on the other children.
Amadeo nodded. “The Gardener gave each of us the power to change the world. Maybe just in small ways, but when trouble comes to your neighbors’ doorsteps, there’s always
something
you can do about it. What might be a tiny thing to you can be a powerful blessing to the person you help. It’s not enough to coast through life and think you’re being good just because you’re following the rules; that was the apprentice’s mistake. The Gardener needs all of you to be his hands in the world. To root out weeds and plant new seeds. That takes creativity, and courage, and hard work. And I
know
you can do it.”
That was when he realized why he’d picked that story today.
Preacher, heed your own words
, he thought.
“Children, I need to be going. I have some work to attend to. Don’t worry, I’ll be back next week, and I
might
have some more toffees.”
He extracted himself from the tangle of hugs as best he could. Freda followed him a short distance away and tugged his sleeve.
“You okay?” she said. “You got a funny look on your face.”
He chuckled. “Probably shame. I realized I haven’t been following my own advice. Everything all right out here?”
“As all right as it gets. Listen, though. The cold months are coming, and the way things were last year…” Her voice trailed off as she looked back toward the children. “I don’t want to bury any more toddlers. Ground’s too hard for digging in the cold.”
“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to push for the funds for a relief effort, so everyone would at least have a fire to warm up by and one hot meal in their bellies, but the College keeps saying you should all be in the foundling home—”
“They are
not
going to any damn foundling home,” Freda snapped, her eyes fierce. “Not
that
damn foundling home. You
know
why.”
“I do,” he said, holding up an open hand but keeping his distance. He didn’t try to touch her, not when she had that look on her face. “It’s all bureaucracy. One nest of red tape after another.”
“What about the Holy Father? Why won’t he help us?”
Amadeo shook his head, feeling helpless. “It’s complicated. The pope can only sign off on certain kinds of expenditures, and the cardinals on everything else. It was a compromise to keep any one side…you know, I’m not going to bore you with a history lesson. You’re not getting the help you need down here, and I know it. I’m sorry. I’ll take another run at my contacts in the College and see where things stand.”
He dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of copper coins.
“Here,” he said, “in the meantime—”
Freda shook her head. “I earn my own money, don’t need your charity. It’s the little ones I’m worried about.”
And I’m worried about how you’re earning your money
, he thought. There were only so many job opportunities for a fourteen-year-old girl in the slums.
“And you watch over them,” he
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