Post #8.1, Tuesday, May 5, 2020

Historical setting: A dark age on the Saxony Shore of Gaul

         God knows I’m thankful for glimpses into memory of a wife and for the gentle thoughts of touches — the warmth of earthly breath and fragrance — all these remembrances of love shared. I know earth’s metaphors speak a truth of so many kinds of human love revealing a nature of God who is love.

         Of course, I know that’s not what is taught. I know it is my heresy, not theirs, that lets me see these thoughts of love as a holy window on grace rather than the Original Sin they say it is. One thing is certain, if I am a monk, I’m surely not one who is chaste.

         Thank you God for these glimpses of love given to people in earthly ways and spoken through my human understanding in tangible metaphor. Amen.

         The sun is a full ball of orange sinking quickly. I’ve got to keep my appointment with the gentle doctor or the whole Roman infantry will be sent to find me. I see he is still waiting for me.

         “Dr. Neifus, thank you for meeting me here. I’m not sure I could find my way all the way to the infirmary, but I can assure you my clarity of mind is returning. And as you promised, it’s coming to me in doses I can manage.”

         “So have you a memory of your own lifetime and not just grandmother stories, now?”

         “I’d like to say I do, but I’m still only gathering it in glimpses.  At least all those blinks of remembering are not beating me with logs.  I did recall a happier time and I am anxious now to pursue that.”

         The doctor also made good use of an afternoon to himself. He explains, “I took a wander over to the shipyard to learn of any news of progress in the repairs on that old Roman galley, a dromon. And, I have to say, my real purpose was to brag a bit on my ancient skills as a healer.  I told the ship’s head officer that your healing was progressing very well. And now, I hope that’s still true.”

         “It is true indeed, Doctor. You are a fine and dedicated healer.  If the officer were to test my rowing endurance I’m sure I would do well. And I’m anxious to pursue my remembrances now that they are not simply revealed to me as terrors. Did the officer talk with you of any plans to set sail?”

(Come again tomorrow)

Published by J.K. Marlin

Retired church playwright learning new art forms-- fiction writing, in historical context and now blogging these stories. The Lazarus Pages have a recurring character -- best friend of Jesus -- repeatedly waking to life in various periods of church history and spirituality.

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