A young boy was in church with his mother.
She was lighting candles at her favourite shrines.
The boy was running round, examining everything.
After a while, all went quiet. She looked up and
there he was standing, looking up at a stained glass window.
The sun was streaming through and he stood, fascinated
by the different colours dancing on the floor.
His mother approached him and he started asking lots of questions.
There was a statue to the right and he
wanted to know who that was.
She told him it was ‘Holy God’.
Close by was another statue and
again he enquired who it was. ‘That’s Mary, God’s holy mother.’
Next he pointed at the stained-glass windows, ‘who are they?’
And she said, ‘they are the saints’.
The boy pondered and said no more.
The next day at school he was in religion cass and the topic under discussion
happened to be saints. ‘What was a saint?,’the class was asked.
Quick as a flash, our friend put his hand up, knowingly.
‘They are the ones that let the light shine through.’
