Historical setting: 602 C.E. A cottage in the Vosges
In an earlier time, when Greg and Gabe were still toddlers and Simon and Hannah were babies, I was often as much a close parent to these children as was Ana. But we let this pass from us as the farm chores were doled out to the children. Older now, they’ve been more able to take on chores. But here we are a family of little ones again, and maybe I’ve let my place as a parent to babies slip away. Maybe my children think of me as their momma’s hired man. They are only imagining themselves sitting on my knee now for quiet moments reading or talking.
On this new morning I realize this when I’m feeding Layla and Brandell comes over and climbs onto my other knee. Haberd thinks that is all very funny, but for our lesson time he also decides his Papa’s knee is the best vantage point for learning to read. By the time we are well into the lessons I have become a whole climbing tree for this squirrels’ nest of little children.
Dear God, thank you for reminding me that your first gift of creating an earth as it is in heaven is that a father and a mother are the safe arms for trusting children. Thank you for all these tiny reaching hands and giggles. Amen.
It is late afternoon when Ana returns from the hunter’s village. I was already worrying. She took no bird with her to message me so only my worst imaginings would explain her long absence.
She told us, “The old, cantankerous grandmother passed before I even arrived there yesterday, and all of the hunters of the village were already gathered around wailing and telling their stories of remembrance.
“I stayed with them for a night and a day because they trusted me with their grief. Even when they came for me they knew I would be useless for the healing. But now they know I have empathy for grief. They invited me to share this thing of death that stirs a child’s spirit into the kettle of mystical love. Grief is one big stew pot of everyone’s loves and losses – the living and dead alike. It is not just one of us alone weeping for a child gone. It is everyone, some with losses, others simply with fears of one’s own mortality. We share the eternal stories, and life goes on. Thank you, God.”
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 