We were supposed to be meeting our MP.  Michael Tomlinson, a fine MP (a rare breed, in my experience, a Tory with a social conscience) had kindly agreed to meet us to discuss a much-needed community initiative that our church is pioneering on Canford Heath, in Poole (U.K.)

The day got taken over rather.  And it was all for Thomas.  Thomas is about eleven weeks old at the time of writing.  He lives with his family (including older brother) near Brisbane, Australia.  Thomas will never visit the U.K. in person.

Val and I have made many friends in Australia, through our voluntary work with the churches there.  Baby Thomas was diagnosed at 9 weeks with a tumour on his kidney, spots in his lungs and a tumour on his arm – all malignant. He has undergone surgery to remove the kidney tumour, but his condition is thought to be terminal.  The family decided not to pursue chemotherapy as this would likely have only extended his life by an additional 2 months.  Chemotherapy in such a little body would be violent, and inflict much distress on Thomas – and his watching parents.  Thomas is in constant pain.  The drugs regime helps, but as he’s so young he can’t articulate his needs.

A group of mums decided to help make this family’s life a little more bearable.  They decided that Thomas’s brother (himself only a toddler) would need to be helped to remember his much-loved baby sibling after the inevitable happened.  So they decided that Thomas should embark on a world-tour. A virtual world tour, of course.

That’s how Val and I came to be dashing all over London on a sunny Shrove Tuesday at the end of February.   We were suited and booted for Westminster, but in my briefcase we’d prepared a whole bunch of “Thomas visited…” signs.  We certainly attracted attention.  Many moving conversations followed.  One lady in Oxford Street was convinced we were trying to earn money.  When she heard the story, she nearly dissolved into tears on the pavement.

As the time drew closer for our big meeting in the Palace of Westminster, we recruited the help of a London Cabby.  His name was David, and he had – like so many of London’s taxi drivers – a heart of pure gold.  We clambered into his cab outside Buckingham Palace and explained which entrance we needed for the Houses of Parliament… but “could we possibly zip up to Downing Street for a quick photo beforehand?”    We didn’t really have time, but the clock was advancing relentlessly, and we’d still got quite a few locations to capture before our return train.  David did a u-turn in the traffic mayhem of central London and before we knew it we were outside the entrance to Downing Street, while David kept did another u-turn to point us in the right direction for our final stop.   When we got to Westminster, I thought a decent tip was in order.  The bill was £9.80.  Please take this, said I, offering David £15.  That’s when he gave us a receipt for £15, but returned the £5 note to us.  Please get something for Thomas from me, he said.  And it wouldn’t have taken much…   even the most streetwise London cabby has a tender spot – and God had found it…

Lunch in the Barry Room Brasserie of the House of Lords was OK.  Well, more than OK actually.  The conversation with our MP about “The Hub on the Heath” was encouraging.  Networking happened.  Referrals were made.  Big political personalities were spotted.  And then we were out on the street again with our signs… and Thomas on our hearts.

We visited the House of Commons gift shop (everywhere has a gift shop these days).  That’s where we purchased Charles Barry – a rather cute cuddly bear, named after the famous architect who spent 25 years of his life designing and constructing the Palace of Westminster between 1835 and 1860.  Interesting that we should have dined in the brasserie that also bears his name.  Charles will be winging his way to Brisbane soon.  Hopefully he’ll make it in time.

Then it was on the bus to Regent Street to visit Hamley’s – possibly the largest and certainly one of the most famous toyshops in the world.   Photos of London buses and taxis followed.  And then it started to rain.  And my mobile phone died.  So it was off to the Apple Store to purchase a mobile charging device so we could keep going.  The young man who served us was touched by Thomas’s story.  No-one wasn’t, to be fair.

We just about made it back to Waterloo to catch our return train to Poole.   I’m not sure how many miles we’d walked.  And we’d nearly forgotten why it was that we’d actually gone to London in the first place.  Somehow, I think we got our priorities right, though.

God’s Kingdom is an upside-down affair.  The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.  The rich will struggle to enter, but the gateway for the poor will swing wide.  The leaders of the land may be there, but the Thomas’s of this world will be in the front row.  Of that I am absolutely certain…