The Random Thoughts of Henry Holloway
In Donegal Bay there was once a little piece of land which, when the tide was in, was entirely surrounded by water, making it an island. On that island there lived a man who was loved and respected by all who knew him. If you were to visit that place today you would walk along a causeway or road right on to the island. On the wall by the side of the road you would see a brass tablet with an inscription explaining that the causeway was made entirely by the voluntary labour of Catholics and Protestants alike as a token of affection and regard for that man.
Away in the South Sea Islands there is another road and this is the story of it. This man, known to the natives as Tusitala the Teller of Tales, was troubled. War had broken out among his friends. The war was short but it brought much suffering. Tusitala wondered what he could do. As the prisoners came in, in spite of the risks he ran and in spite of his illness, he was there. His servants brought the prisoners fruit and food. They were housed in a foul hole of a jail and as soon as Tusitala heard it, he started to have the place cleaned up and doctors were kept in attendance.
The grateful men wanted to show their gratitude. One day, after their release, Tusitala looked out of his window and saw them coming up the path. ‘Deep in our hearts,’ said one of them, ‘is the memory of what you have done for us. Now we ask of you one thing, that you allow us to build you a road. It shall be a good road, the best we can make. It shall go from your house and it shall go to meet the road to Apia. And we will bear the cost of it ourselves, and supply our own food as we work upon it.’ Road making, Tusitala knew, was for them the most hated of all tasks and yet - that was their way of expressing their gratitude.
The great task was begun and in a short time completed. It was called Ala Loto Alofa - ‘The Road of Loving Hearts’. Some months before Tusitala’s death, the chiefs prepared a notice which they erected. It said, ‘The Road of Loving Hearts.’ Remembering the great love of His Highness, Tusitala, and his loving care when we were in prison and sore distressed, we have prepared him an enduring present, this road which we have dug to last for ever.’
The Road of the Loving Heart is in Samona, built by natives in affection for Robert Louis Stevenson, a man whose presence called forth love wherever he came and whose written words have gladdened the world. It ran from his island home to the sea he loved. Love constructed it, and so it remains unique amongst thoroughfares - a lesson for all of us. The road of loving hearts runs right through the life of the world. Wherever there is love and friendship there is service. Wherever friends are true and burdens are lifted and sorrow comforted. there you will find the road of loving hearts. But there are rough ways yet to be made plain and crooked ways yet to be made straight. They are waiting for your labour of love.
An old man was busy sweeping up the roadway. Somebody said to him, ‘You must be expecting somebody important, the way you are working today.’ He drew himself up, ‘There may be traffic on this road. The Queen herself may come this way. It matters not, so long as my little bit of the road is ready.’ Jesus once said, ‘Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’
| Previous |