Chish and Fips (or Fish and Chips if you prefer)
If you had decided to go for a walk on this particular sunny August day, and if that walk had taken you through the local park, you would have seen a group of children playing on the swings and slides. You would have noticed (because you are a perceptive person) that they were a happy group with much laughter and friendly shouting. One boy called Billy had the loudest voice you might have ever heard. But you would have also noticed (your perception again) that Billy did not shout proper words, only unintelligible sounds came out of his mouth. Billy, nine years old, was born with a severe speech defect. He had existed in his primary school on the shaky grounds of eternal optimism but now harsh reality was stepping in. That very afternoon his parents were taking him, by train, to a specialist speech therapy school some 100 miles away, where he would board for six weeks. Billy was about to take on the greatest challenge of his young life.
For his friends the days and weeks ahead would slip by with an easy regularity; for Billy it was an entirely new life that confronted him. He was desperately homesick yet he realised in a way far beyond his years that this was a life changing opportunity for himself. He desperately wanted to be “Normal” he did not want to suffer the sad smiles of others. He wanted a life worth living for himself. So he gave it his all. He practiced with the balloons and with the mirror as he had been taught. He practiced and practiced and practiced. He ground out the days sometimes with tears sometimes with a pure elation as he mastered a new pronunciation. The letters that came from his parents and from his friends were a daily encouragement; years later he would show them to his own children and no matter how often he read them they would often move him to tears.
Finally the day arrived when he could go home.
His parents told his friends what time Billy would be arriving at the station and on a bright but chilly October day they waited.
The train pulled into the station. Nine pairs of eyes searched for a boy with a suitcase. The passengers parted and there was Billy running into the arms of his Mum and his Dad. Billy looked around and saw his friends waiting expectantly, he was also conscious of his parents nearby. Then there occurred one of the moments that you remember for ever. With everyone looking on, Billy opened his mouth and nothing came out. Time seemed to stand still with everyone playing statues. Billy tried to speak again but once again silence reigned supreme. To Billy the silence seemed to last forever and then he heard his Dad say it was time to go home. The friends drifted away, unable to get behind Billy’s tears to help him. All, that is except one, a boy named Brian. Brian was the eldest of the group and he had long since taken Billy under his wing. Brian was determined, with the obstinacy of the young to get Billy to talk. As he and Billy and Billy’s Mum and Dad left the platform in silence they turned right onto the main street of the town.
As the town clock was striking one the bitter October day came to play its part in the ensuing drama. For half way down the street was a Fish and Chip Shop. There are only a few occasions in everyone’s life when certain smells fill the universe and must be obeyed. This was such a moment. Brian acting on a God given divine intuition without hesitation turned to Billy, “Fancy some chish and fips mate?” Without thinking Billy shouted, “Yeah!”.
Sometimes it only needs a word and a kingdom is opened; a new life can begin; a life can be changed. So it was with Billy once the first word had been spoken the other words came like a torrent.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John’s Gospel Chapter 1 verses 1, 2, and 14.
Anthony Rawlinson