Joe followed the trail until he
came to an arched stone bridge that crossed back over the river. From the
vantage point of the bridge he realized that now, at last, he was off the mountain.
It seemed like a good time to pray. Those classic poses he’d seen of people
kneeling with their hands flat together in front of their faces seemed a little
contrived, so he turned and looked down the river and said: “Uh…God…I believe
you. I believe you have been watching over me and taking care of me. I know I
don’t really deserve any of that, God, but I guess that’s what you do. So,
thanks. Here I am, alive and well. In fact, I have never felt better in my
life. Thanks for that too. I don’t know how to say this, but I want to, uh, be
on your team. No, that’s not right. I want to do whatever you want me to do.
Whatever path you place in front of me, I am going to try to follow that to
wherever it leads. Yeah, I think that kind of says it. Uh, amen.” Then he stood
there a few minutes with his arms on the railing of the bridge, and just sort
of rested.
Joe had not eaten breakfast, and he
was hungry, but he knew that if his Father had provided for him on the
mountain, he would do so now. So he crossed the river and continued on the path
down the river. The path flattened out and the way was easy. After a couple of
miles the path turned into a road. Soon other roads and lanes merged into his.
It became obvious that the road he was on was the major byway through the
valley. He could see farms off in the distance. He saw a farmer on a tractor,
and when he waved the farmer waved back, but then turned to his work. He saw
some children playing in a field. He heard them laughing, which was very
pleasant to hear, but then he realized that they were not laughing in fun. They
were picking on one of the boys, and he was crying. Joe didn’t know what to
make from this, but he knew that even though he was out of the mountain, he was
not in Shangri La.
About a half an hour he came to a
signpost. There was a biblical passage on the sign. It read, “Matthew 7:7-8
‘Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door
will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and
to him who knocks, the door will be opened.’” Just past the post was a path
that led to a little blue house up on a knoll. He turned on to the path and
followed it to the house. He stepped up on the porch and walked to the door.
The address just said “1.” Joe thought that was unusual, he could hear someone
singing from inside, and forgot about it. It sounded like a woman’s voice. He
knocked on the door. The singing didn’t stop until the door opened. A
middle-aged woman stood there in the doorway.
“Greetings,” she said. “How may I
help you?” There was a joyful lilt to her voice that Joe had not heard before.
She was tall, about Joe’s height, and slender. She was also blind.
“Hi,” Joe said, “Uh, I saw the sign
out front and I thought…well, I wondered…”
“Would you like some breakfast?”
she asked.
“Thank you, yes, I am very hungry.
My name is Joe.”
As she ushered him into the house,
she said, “Welcome to my home, Joe. My name is Abigail Burns. Have a seat while
I set the table.” She made her way to a kitchen in the back with practiced
steps while Joe stayed in the front room. After a while he could smell sausage
cooking, and potatoes. While he waited, he took the liberty to look around the
room. There was a fireplace with framed pictures on the mantle. It appeared
that Abigail had a family. There were photographs of her with a man, presumably
her husband. Some had children in them. It appeared she had two, or possibly
three children, Joe wasn’t sure. There was a table in front of the window with
a big bouquet of assorted flowers in the center. The pictures on the wall tended
toward still life and outdoor scenes. There was an old console stereo and
turntable in the corner. This one was the kind that had sliding doors on top.
On one side were the controls and the turntable, and on the other side was a
bin for storing records. She had quite an assortment of classical and jazz
records mixed in with some older gospel, blues, world music and, surprisingly,
some vintage rock. The last record she’d played was still on the turntable. Joe
was curious. He looked at the label. It was Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. Joe
looked at the jacket. It was some kind of banjo jazz, or something.
“Would you like to hear anything?”
she asked from behind him. Joe was kind of taken by surprise. How did she know
he was at the stereo? So he asked, “How did you know…? I mean you’re…Oh, I am
sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Joe, you haven’t offended me. I
knew you were at the stereo because I recognized the sound of the doors
sliding. If you know how, why don’t you put on Bela Fleck? That will be good
breakfast music. Come on, we can eat at the kitchen table and tell our stories.
What do you think?”
Much relieved, Joe said, “that
would be fine.” He turned on the stereo, put the needle at the beginning of the
record, and followed Abigail into the kitchen, not sure what to expect. He and
Abigail sat down and she served the meal. Joe had never really been around a
blind person and so he was curious how she could have done so much without the
benefit of sight. She’d made scrambled eggs with diced onion, red pepper and
cheese. He also detected little slivers of pepperoni in the eggs. Along with
the eggs, there were the fried potatoes, and the sausage he’d smelled. There
was also toast, cranberry juice and strong coffee.
“Before I lost my sight,” she
explained, “I used to make omelets. But now I just scramble the eggs. Omelets
are a lot of work when you can’t see the pan.”
“Abigail, these eggs look great! I
don’t know what your omelets were like, but this meal is excellent.”
“Thank you, Joe. You are very kind.
Before we eat, would you be offended if I prayed?”
“No. Not at all.”
She reached out and found his hand.
She was silent for a moment, and then: “Dear God, thank you for this meal.
Thank you for blessing us in so many ways. Thank you also for my new friend
Joe. Amen.” When she said ‘amen’ she squeezed his hand and then let go.
“Okay, Joe, since I cooked the
meal, you can serve. How’s that?”
“Fine with me,” Joe responded. He
served up the eggs and poured the juice and coffee. Then he ate. The food was
as good as it looked. Joe was very hungry and he ate until he couldn’t eat any
longer. But something was bothering him. Where was her family? Finally he
decided to ask.
“Abigail, can I ask about the
pictures on your mantle?”
“Sure Joe those are pictures of my
family. I’m sure you are wondering….well, let me give you the short version,
and then you can tell me about yourself. I gave birth to three beautiful
children. The two oldest, Martha and David are grown and have moved away.
Martha is married and is going to have a child this winter. David is a sailor.
My youngest, Tommy was killed by a drunk driver when he was ten. After the kids
were all gone, my husband Jesse and I decided to stay here. Then two years ago
he got cancer. Six months after we found out, he was gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Abigail.
What about you? How did you lose your sight?”
“I was driving the car when the
drunk hit us. I sustained head injuries that took my sight.”
“That must have horrible. You’ve
been dealt some pretty tough cards.”
“That’s one way to look at it.
Losing Tommy was really tough. He was such a fun little boy. He was bright and
witty, and loved to entertain. At ten he could tell about every artist in that
record collection out there. It took a long time, but we finally learned to
accept his death even though it hurt. It still hurts. But, I will tell you,
Joe, losing Jesse was the hardest. I had to do that one almost by myself. The
kids came home of course, but they couldn’t be here all the time. They wanted
me to move close to them, but I would have had to learn a whole new routine,
you know, memorizing the steps to the bathroom, knowing where I put the salt
and pepper, all that. I just didn’t want to do it. Besides, I have plenty to do
here.”
“I don’t know how to put this,” Joe
ventured, “but you seem extremely happy. It seems like you have had some hard
knocks, yet you seem like one of the happiest people I have ever known. How do
you manage that?”
“Yes, how do I manage that?” she
laughed. “Well, first of all, I wouldn’t use the word happy. Most happiness
depends on circumstances. That is why you can’t understand how I can be happy
after so much pain. Happiness and pain seldom go together. In fact, if someone
does feel happy about pain, we think they are perverted. It’s not normal. But
what I experience on most days is joy, and peace.”
“Okay, how do you manage that?” Joe
asked. She responded with one word, “God.”
“I would think you’d be mad at God
for letting all that bad happen,” Joe said.
“Certainly there was a time, Joe,
when I was mad. But I finally had to come back to a really basic truth: If
there is a God, and if he is powerful enough to make a universe as beautiful,
and wonderful as this one, a universe in which we can live and prosper, then he
must be good. He must be loving. I finally had to put my trust in a loving God
who knew infinitely more about what was good for me than I did, blindness and
everything else.”
Joe was blown away by this kind of
belief. But her mention of a basic truth reminded him of something. “Abigail,
do you know anything about the Seven Truths? I met someone who told me they
were really important.” When he mentioned the Seven Truths she beamed like the
sunrise.
“Joe! I was so hoping you would ask
me that. I mean, there are so few people around here who are inclined. That is
why I asked you if I could pray for our food. I have people over all the time,
and that is an easy means for me to know if they have found The Way.”
“The Way,” Joe responded. “This is
the first I have heard of it. What’s The Way?”
“The Way and the Seven Truths are
part of the same thing, Joe. If you are seeking after the Seven Truths, you are
on The Way.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Everything, Joe, everything I
know! I have stayed here in this place for just such a purpose. It is why I
wouldn’t move near my children. There are people all around me here who could
care less about the Seven Truths. It is my mission to help a few of them, if I
can be so used. Pour us some more coffee while I talk.
“Truth number one, I suspect, you
already know. Take my old Bible from the shelf behind you. It’s on the second
shelf down all the way to the right. Read Deuteronomy 6:4. If you don’t know
where that passage is, there is a table of contents in the front.”
Joe found the Bible, and after a
bit of trial and error, he found the passage. It read: “Hear, O Israel: The
Lord our God, the Lord is one.” That gave Joe the opportunity to tell Abigail
all about his journey down the mountain. She nodded and affirmed what he said
at several key points.
“Joe,” she finally said, “That is
the way of our God, and that is the essence of the first truth. There is a God,
but there is only one. He will accept no competition, not even from us. You did
not believe in gods in the religious sense, but by your own words, you were your
own god. In order to discover the truth, you had to quit trying to be what you
were never created to be. You also had to realize that God is, that he exists,
and that he is the ultimate reality.”
Just then the phone rang. Abigail
got up and took careful steps out to the front room. He could tell from the
tone of her voice that there was a crisis of some kind. She came back into the
kitchen, but Joe could not read her expression.
“Joe, I have to go. I’m sorry. A
young woman just called. She is pregnant with her second child, and the first
is only a year old. I have been trying to reach her for quite a while. Could
you walk with me? It’s only a short way, and we can talk on the way.”
“Sure,” Joe said, “that would be
fine. If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll walk with you to your appointment,
and then press on.”
“I understand, Joe. But before we
go I would like to give you something.”
“No, Abigail. You have already done
enough for me,” Joe protested.
“It’s not like that. I want to give
you a Bible. I have many Bibles that I keep on hand just to give away. Please
let me do this for you.”
“A Bible? Okay. Actually, I would
love to start reading it.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Now look
right there by the bookshelf, and you will see a cardboard box. In it are some
Bibles. Some of them travel better than others. Take one of those small ones
with the cover that snaps closed. Do you see it?”
Joe found the box and inside was an
assortment of various Bibles. Some were brand new and some were used. He found
the Bible she described. It said “Holy Bible” on the maroon cover. Joe undid
the snap and looked inside. It was the first time in his life he had ever owned
a Bible.
“Hand me the Bible, Joe,” she
instructed.
Joe gave her the Bible and she opened it to a page
called “The Presentation Page”, took a pen and carefully wrote: “From Abigail
to Joe. Never look back.” Then down at the bottom of the page she wrote “#3 – 1
John 4:16.” But she closed the Bible before Joe could read it, and simply said,
“Read it later,” as she handed it back to him. The Bible fit perfectly into one
of the outside pockets of his pants.Questions:
1. What issues of the heart
does Joe’s prayer on the bridge express?
2. What did Joe mean when he thought: “There is something
extremely average about this place.”?
3. What kind of person does Abigail represent? In what ways is she like the old
man?
4. What does Abigail have to say about happiness?
5. What does she say to Joe when he wonders why she is not mad at God for the
suffering she has experienced in her life?
6. What was Abigail ’s reason for why she wouldn’t move?
7. What is the First Truth?
8. According to Abigail, what
is the essence of the First Truth?
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