Historical setting: A dark age in Gaul, some say 562 C.E.
“I remember the Roman galley which I can see right now from this place where I sit on the harbor wall. And it is still hanging from the ropes for repairs. I would guess my healing is coming better than the repairs of rot to the ancient ship’s hull.”
Dr. Neifus answers, “That would be a good guess. Brother Lazarus, I always figure our Creator God works amazing wonders with things like healing; so we need not worry, even our memories can sometimes heal. Our minds, when cleared of devils and demons, can work for the good of us speaking in dreams and remembrances in the exact and appropriate doses of truth to match our endurance for such truths. In my days as a battlefield surgeon I saw many soldiers suffering from terrors of battle, sometimes in hidden ways. I’ve noticed that some recollections are better kept hidden in bandages. But in time you may find your memory is closer to reality where others of us live.”
“So it is your prognosis that I’m not living in reality?”
“I hear you talking about times in generations long past as though it were your own life. What would you call that?”
“Doctor, I don’t mean to be unappreciative of your fine care but I need to take some time to untangle my thoughts. Surely my monk’s trim says that I’m one to spend my hours in quiet prayer. Perhaps my memory would find creative renewal in nature. I just wish to spend some time alone now.”
“Very well, if you don’t want me to watch so closely I will turn my face away and watch the river.”
“Doctor, I’m asking that I may walk on alone and follow that path that lays next to the river and leads into that dell. I’ll return before nightfall. We can meet right here. I can assure you I will be in a better state of mind.”
Time alone for prayer is a strangely valuable commodity. I remember well, Jesus begging my little sister to give him some time alone. Even the disciples were sent off in their boat while he wandered the hills. Then when he returned to them he was in a strange and holy state of calm. He seemed to them a ghost, walking above the turmoil of the frothing sea-waters. Why is quietude so hard to find? It seems so abundant in places with no people.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 