N is for “Leaf by Niggle”
Kristen and I drove south beneath a solar halo in October. A few miles before Nashville, we came to a dead stop on the interstate. After a speculative hour, we learned from fellow travelers that a semi trailer had caught fire 3 miles ahead of us, blocking both lanes, so we finally found a turnaround and detoured the whole shebang. I missed the first half of my writing seminar, but the second half was so good that I shook off the dour cloud that threatened to fog the week to come and sank into bed at our dear host’s home.
I don’t know the answer, but now at least I know the question.
Friday I slept in, worked on editing, and went shopping at McKay, Target, and Plato’s Closet. As dusk fell I walked up to the Burning Edge of Dawn release concert and got a smiley face sharpied onto my hand.
O God, I am furrowed like the field
Torn open like the dirt
And I know that to be healed
That I must be broken first
I am aching for the yield
That You will harvest from this hurt
Abide in me
Let these branches bear Your fruit
Abide in me, Lord
As I abide in You
Saturday morning: my first Hutchmoot, thanks to the many kind people who made my partial ticket possible. Or perhaps more importantly, my first Hutchmoot Dirty Chai. Followed by a Jeffrey Overstreet session on film standards, another chai, and a discussion group about writing rituals. Then: telling the Story over and over again, raising hymns, building castles and giving them up, liturgies of lost rhyme, and feasts that are acts of war.
Nashville and Narnia have this in common: knowing Aslan there for a little helps me know Aslan better here.
“Do you suppose that I go to France in order to see France? Do you suppose that I go to Germany in order to see Germany? I shall enjoy them both; but it is not them that I am seeking. I am seeking Battersea. The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land. Now I warn you that this Gladstone bag is compact and heavy, and that if you utter that word ‘paradox’ I shall hurl it at your head. I did not make the world, and I did not make it paradoxical. It is not my fault, it is the truth, that the only way to go to England is to go away from it.”