Stories of quests
and tasks carried out in the name of love of a princess are the stuff of fairy
tales. Or are they? Only just today, I
learned of three sons, who had returned recently from their own quests, to prove
their love.
It all started
with the most tragic of scenes. Tucked
away in his bed in the nursing home, an old man lay dying. Gathered round him were his three loving
sons, Nathan, Caspian and Trevor. They
were, by most accounts, ordinary boys, with ordinary lives, from an ordinary
family. And the old man, too, was, by
all accounts, ordinary.
But as many do as
they approach unknown demise, he had questions – questions that must be
answered urgently.
And, as most sons
do as parents fade away, the boys found within themselves a willingness to set
aside their own mundane wants, to answer the needs of their loved one.
So, each drew near
as the father begged his request.
“I need to know,
before I die, what hidden value, what meaning, what significance there is to
each of our lives. I need to know
“why.” Because only when I know “why”
and “what” will I be happy to accept the “when” of my departure.
The meaning of
life? A simple request! But each child
agreed to do his best, though at least two already knew the answer. Caspian, unfortunately, was the slowest of
the bunch. To him, this was a monumental
task, to be undertaken with the greatest of diligence.
For Trevor, he
knew where to go, and he wasted no time.
Not just because the nurse had whispered to him, in a brief aside, “Be quick. Your father has not long to live.” But also because Trevor knew that the meaning
of life, so simple, provided him with his greatest of joys.
Even so, to be
quick at any time was no easy task for Trevor.
His huge girth, more amply spread through years of experienced
pleasures, was a heavy load, gladly borne.
Nonetheless, Trevor was glad to accept his assignment of love, and he
would not fail his father in that.
Nathan, too, was
eager to be off. He hated the depressed
aura hanging heavy over the nursing home.
Surrounded by old age, frailty, pain, suffering and dying, he could feel
his high spirits and boundless energy draining from him, fatal ounce upon
ounce. His father’s chore meant Nathan
would not have to visit that tomb for some time. And, when he returned to reveal his great
secret to Dad, he felt certain that his father could cross into his new life in
peace. For Nathan had known, since his
very childhood, the meaning of life.
The task, though,
weighed hard on Caspian. Lacking the
youthful exuberance of his brother Nathan, or the vast elite knowledge and
experience of Trevor, Caspian had spent his life listening intently, observing
closely, digesting carefully, each experience, each situation, each
moment. For Caspian knew that he was not
as bright and intuitive as his brothers, and he knew that he must strive harder
to understand, to compensate for his failures.
It was to be
Caspian that provided the millstone that dragged down quick resolution of the
task. Days dragged by, then weeks. Nathan,
always on the move, found he grew more impatient with each day, but, as the
brothers had agreed to present their solutions jointly to their father, he was
compelled to wait. Trevor, though, was
unfazed by the delay; a delay that allowed him to indulge himself lavishly.
Caspian pedantically toiled through the job given to him, needing to be sure he
found precisely what his dear father had asked.
One day word
arrived to each of the boys that the old
man would not last the night. Each
hastened to his bedside.
“What have you
learned, what have you brought me?” wheezed the father.
Trevor, the
eldest, presented first.
He pressed lightly
on the buzzer beside the hospital bed, and momentarily, several orderlies
arrived, each pushing a covered metal cart.
“I wanted to
present my answers for you more spectacularly, but with the greatest haste, I
brought you a few of the finest samples of the meaning of life.”
With that, Trevor
uncovered gleaming tray upon gleaming tray within the carts in the room. Layer
upon layer of the finest entrees, sinfully sweet desserts, and carafes, beakers
and bottles of wines lined the racks and rows.
Intensely beautiful aromas filled the room. Each son’s mouth watered with anticipation.
“The meaning and
purpose of our lives is obvious. Live
each moment to enjoy its greatest pleasures.
Fine wines, exquisite foods, sensual desserts. And stimulating friends
with which to share. For God has given
us no greater gift than the gifts of our senses: our vision (soak up the beauty
of each of these dishes), our ears (hear the sizzle, the fizz, the crunch and
swish of each sampled morsel), our nose (smell the bouquet of the fine wines,
the sweet delight of lush desserts), our tongue (savour each bite, each
momentous mouthful). Life is meant to be
tasted, digested, indulged to its fullest.
The old man smiled
a contented smile, memories of shared moments, enjoyed indulgences with great
friends of years past flooding over him.
“Yes, it is
true. Some of life’s greatest pleasures
are as you say. You have made me feel so
much better. You have always been such a
comfort, and have always been able to satisfy my most pressing needs of the
moment. Indeed, what you say may be
true, and I am surely blessed to have such a sensitive, caring son.”
He sighed, wishing
he could savour more of those moments past, but knowing that the end was near
and there was to be no more such carefree experiences. Tears clouded his eyes as he viewed the near
future forlornly.
“And you, my son,
so full of vigour and energy. What does
my son Nathan bring to me to help me on this most unpleasant journey?”
Nathan was quick
to respond.
“I can offer you
no scrumptious meals, no fine wines. I
can only bring you these.”
With that, he laid
in front of his father dozens of medals, ribbons and trophies.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but the
meaning of life is life lived to the maximum.
It is a life for the young. There
is no greater joy than to feel the rush of the wind as you plummet down a
mountainside that has never before seen a ski.
Nothing compares to the wild ride of a race car so powerful that you
must merely hold on to survive. No
thrill can surpass the challenge of meeting your foe in a one-on-one battle to
the finish. There is no more satisfying
moment than the moment of conquest, a deep-sea dive, a game of chance, a risk well-taken. Life’s reward is in victories, and wins, and
being the best. It is to be lived with
all your energy until you can go no further.”
“But, dear father,
I fear I offer you no comfort, for you are now denied all these pleasures, and
I am sorry for you.”
With that, the boy
burst into tears, for both his father’s lost life, and the realized
inevitability of his own impending loss.
The old man
summoned frail energy to stroke Nathan’s bowed head.
“No, no.,” he
muttered. “You are wrong, even though you are right. Life is to be enjoyed. Life is to be pushed to the maximum. And, in my day, I can tell you, there was no
greater joy than the joy of competition, of games played well, of challenges
well-met. I’m proud to have such a wise
son.”
With that, the
father looked to the last, and least son.
“Poor
Caspian. I am afraid that I have set
before you an impossible task. But be
assured, son, that I love you no less if you have failed to find an answer for
me. Tell me, though, have you found anything which may be of comfort to me in
my final night on this earth?”
Caspian drew
close, and with neither the pomp of his brother Trevor, or the energy of his
brother Nathan, he laid on the blankets his little treasures he had gathered
over the past weeks.
All in all, they
seemed greatly insignificant. Two twigs,
three stones, and some sand.
The two other
brothers looked at each other, then shrugged.
It was, after all, Caspian. The
old man, too, in spite of low expectations, was clearly disappointed.
“So tell me, son,
why are these your life’s treasures? Why do they hold the meaning of life?”
Caspian picked up
the first branch.
“I can only tell
you what was revealed to me. I’m not
sure I really understand, either. This
tree, for example. A willow. It grows
unsheltered from the world, exposed to the wind. But each day, as the wind tears at it, the
willow grows more supple, more flexible, more forgiving, more graceful. Why, just look at its slender leaves, feel
its smooth, glistening bark. In spite of
the harsh wind, and because of that harsh wind, it has developed such beauty.”
The father hesitated, then nodded.
“Quite true, my
son. I had not seen how beautiful it
was, how strong the willow is in spite of adversity. Thank you for that. But what of your remaining treasures?”
Next, Caspian held
up the second limb.
“Now the oak is
quite different. Look at its bark. How rough, tough and gnarled it is. But, do you know that even when you cut off
this limb and let it die, it does not wither and grow weak? No, as it dries, it
hardens even more. Why, as oak dries, it
clamps harder and harder at anything that may try to penetrate its surface. And, it’s so hard, that even in death it does
not crumble to nothing like lesser trees and plants might. Yet, this oak finds such great strength after
scores of years being cruelly beaten by winter winds, killing droughts, and the
harshest, most piercing sun, year after year after year. In its death it is more beautiful than in its
life!”
A gleam of hope
lighted the old man’s eyes. “Even after
death it becomes stronger, more beautiful, more enduring, you say? Isn’t that a wonder.”
And he patted
Caspian’s shoulder.
The other two sons
looked at each other quizzically.
“But there are
more treasures. What of them?”
Caspian warmed to
his task.
“Look closely at
this sand,” he said. “Run it through
your hands, and remember its feel on your toes on the oceanfront. Feel the sun’s warmth that it holds, just for
you. But remember, Dad, that that very
sand has been buffeted and tossed about for centuries by waves, dragged
countless miles across the ocean floor, ground into dust, and left to waste
away on miles of beach front. Yet, men
take those silica crumbs, heat them liquid hot and shape them into exquisite
crystal glass objects of beauty. The
very brutality of their lives leads these sand crumbs into new lives of
beautiful creations, creating pleasure for all who see them.”
That was welcome
news for the aged patient. He saw
himself emerging into a new life of exquisite wonder, released from the pains
of this world, and part of a new creation of God’s great world.
“I need hear no
more. You have surely revealed all I
need to know about the meaning of life.”
“No, Dad, I have
more to show you.”
Caspian placed the
first stone in his father’s hand.
“What do you
feel?”
“Why, nothing more
than a rough piece of limestone. What
should I feel?”
“Feel its
history. Old fossils buried within. Silt, and clays, and rotting organisms, all
melded together. All buried deeper and
deeper under the heavy weight of new life, dead life, decaying life. Water spilling over the rock, leeching out
its heart and soul, bit by bit, and carrying those valued minerals into little
statues of crystalline beauty.
Stalagmites and stalactites in intricate shapes. Yet all of this from the living of life in
all its complexities, the wasting and decay of life, in turn feeding new life,
but with none of the history, the contributions of each life lost. Why, just look at this little piece of rock,
and you can see the entire past, all laid out clearly. Not one life forgotten.
A great light of
joy lit the old man’s face.
“One’s life never
forgotten, eh? You mean, I can be
remembered forever? I’m not ever going
to completely leave this world, or be forgotten by it? This limestone rock is surely a treasure!”
And he held it
tightly to his chest.
“Go on, my son,
reveal more to me!”
Caspian cradled
his second last treasure briefly, before handing it to his brothers.
“What do you think
of this one?” he asked.
“Why, it’s just a
piece of granite,” said Trevor. “Nothing
more.”
“Yes, I’ve seen
granite hundreds of times before. What
significance does it have?”
The old man, eager
now to learn, turned the stone over and over.
“It’s more than
granite. Look, there’s quartz, and mica,
and feldspar. Right son?”
“Right , Dad. Quartz, thick veins of quartz so pure. Yet
it’s thick veins of quartz that often carry man’s most treasured metal –
gold. And mica. Without it, our greatest inventions may not
have been possible. Why, for almost
every electrical or electronic application, mica forms the core. What of feldspar? That sand you held may be entirely made of
tiny crystals of feldspar. No glass no
mirror, nor delicate crystal can exist without the processing of feldspar. So, even just this rock holds valuable
material treasures. But this rock comes
from the depths of this earth, pieces bonded together through extreme
pressures, incredible, volcanic heat, eons and eons of time. So strong is this collection of particles,
that sometimes the heaviest mallet cannot break it apart. Just like this family, bonded together for
life through the individual strengths and virtues of each part of it. Bonded together through the greatest
challenges.”
“Yes, family, and
love, and bonds that can’t be broken. That is, for sure, the meaning of
life.” The old man looked lovingly at
his son, and each son looked at the other with new love and respect. “But there can be no greater meaning to
life. Yet, you have one fragment left to
show me still. How can that be?”
“Look closely,
Dad.” Caspian handed the last rock to
his father. “What is it?”
His father
gasped. “Why, it’s a diamond! Why did you bring me this, so valuable, yet of
so little worth to me now?”
“Because my dear
father, I want to tell you how much this diamond represents the great gift of
life you have given me. The purest of
stones. Yet, so hard that nothing else
is stronger. So clear and precise, that
everything is seen more brilliantly through it.
So alive that it captures even the brilliance of the sun and the
stars. Yet it is nothing more than
carbon: decayed life, pressured beyond coal to the greatest, the most
extreme. Subjected to everything that
life can throw at it, yet made more pure, more brilliant, more valuable, more
perfect, for each new experience, for each new crisis, for each new pleasure it
experiences. This diamond is life
itself. A life improved each moment of
each day, until, at the very end, it reaches perfection. For you, my father, for this diamond is you.”
With that, each
son drew near, to hug their father, as he breathed his lastly happily. For he knew how valuable and valued he was,
now, and for ever. And how perfect his
life, with all its flaws had been. He
was, after all, loved.
Often, life’s greatest trials are life’s most valuable
treasures. Enjoy each moment.
