“Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me’” (Mark 9:36-37).

As I stepped out of the apartment building, I caught a glimpse of our neighbor hugging a young boy about 11 years old. There was something emotional about the embrace. He looked a little sad, and she was trying to comfort him. He was too young to be her son, and I had never seen him around before. I was pretty sure he didn’t live with her. Anyway, it was none of my business. I said my customary, “Hello,” and, “Goodbye,” and went on my way.

As soon as I stepped out of the building, I heard a soft voice calling out, “Mister, mister.” I assumed that the words were for someone else and walked on. The “Mister” persisted until it was right next to me. I turned and saw it was the neighbor’s young relative.

“Do you live in apartment 5B? I live next door—well, at least until tomorrow; I am moving.” He didn’t wait for me to answer and immediately asked the next question, “Do you play the guitar late at night?”

I was a little embarrassed. I have a habit of practicing my guitar late at night. I thought the walls were thick enough to buffer the sound, but apparently I was wrong.

“Did I keep you awake?” I asked. “I am sorry if I did.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said. “Every night, I lie in bed listening to your playing. I find it very comforting.” His face slightly turned red after saying this. Maybe he felt he was revealing too much.

He waited for me to say something. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, I asked if he played. He nodded affirmatively and said he liked to play Brazilian rock. However, he liked the finger-picking style I played and asked about it. I told him it was a classical form.

The boy went silent for a minute. Then he said his name was Lucas, but he was moving tomorrow (this was the second time he had told me this). He held out his hand and shook mine. Smiling shyly, he said goodbye and went on his way.

This boy seemed like an introvert, and it must have taken a lot of courage on his part to approach me. He belongs to a generation raised on Internet and Facebook, a world inundated with virtual friends and relationships but lacking in much real human contact. Every night he heard a real person making some noise on his guitar.

I know where I am musically, and I won’t say it was great playing that kept him company. Instead, I believe it was the human contact. Through music he had contact with a real person, but there was a wall separating us.

Today, he overcome this barrier and made the connection. As I made my way to the bus stop, my mind was reeling over our simple interaction. Lo and behold, there he was, waiting for his bus. He did not see me, and I didn’t intend to get his attention. I’m sort of an introvert as well and don’t feel too comfortable approaching strangers. Then, all of a sudden, I heard his voice again, this time with a question: “Where are you going?”

I told him I was going to a bookshop. He automatically said he was going for some extra lessons with a tutor. He asked what I did for a job, and I told him I worked with homeless children.

My new friend kept quiet for a while. I could see he was thinking. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what was appropriate. I asked if my neighbor was his grandmother. He said no but didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t pursue the subject. I didn’t need him to unravel his complicated family background, and it wouldn’t have added anything to our encounter.

Another silence fell between us, but it wasn’t awkward. It was just silence. When my bus arrived, he shook my hand again. He smiled, and I could see he was happy for the connection with me. I was grateful for this opportunity.

There was a wall between us. The barrier would have separated us forever, but he took the initiative to overcome the wall. Now we had this moment together. He has seen my face, and I know his name. Maybe there will be other moments like this, or maybe we will never see each other again. After all, he is moving.

No matter what happens, we had this moment together, and it will remain with me. Something mysterious happened in my soul. I cannot explain it. It reminds me of the beauty of Christmas: God overcoming barriers and making Himself known to us.

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