I don’t remember when I was first able to blend the letters of the alphabet into words, but since that day, books have proved a faithful companion through the vicissitudes of life, those unexpected changes that blindside us without warning. So it’s no surprise that I snuck in a book or two in the midst of our recent transition – in between scrubbing the parsonage, writing “everything you need to know about running the Kroc Center but were afraid to ask,” and having the best retirement party ever – at the Kroc Center Spraypark with the KC Big Band and the people we love. Thanks, Kroc Center staff – it was perfect!
Knowing that I’d have to read in snatches of time, I chose the Chronicles of Narnia to keep me company through the upheaval of the last few weeks. C.S. Lewis wrote this set of seven beloved stories beginning in 1949, and completed the last one just in time for my first birthday in 1956. They’ve sold over 100 million copies, and even though they’re set initially in London in the 1940’s, the stories are timeless. They’re ostensibly written for children, but Lewis understood Madeleine L’Engle’s reasoning: “If I have something I want to say that is too difficult for adults to swallow, then I will write it in a book for children.”
So why am I, in the days leading up to retirement, reading a series of children’s books without the lovely Madelyn Simone on my lap? The simplest reason is that Aslan is coming to Ashland and I want to be ready. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe will be performed at the Salvation Army Kroc Center on July 12th at 7 p.m., presented by the Salvation Army’s Creative Arts Service Team, whose previous productions of Godspell and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat have been exceptional.
To remind myself of the stories, I began to read, one chapter at a time, stepping through a wardrobe and into a land of fantasy where animals talk and where good and evil are clearly defined. Welcoming me were Peter and Susan, Lucy and Edmund, Mr. Tumnus, Bree and Hwin, and Aslan himself.
In the midst of the unfolding story line, I discovered nuggets to ponder. “Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed.” Smile. “Things never happen the same way twice.” Yep. And Aslan’s words to Digory: “My son, my son, I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.” Ah, yes.
Taking a step back from the magic of the story itself, I also read with an eye as to why these books are so powerful and so engaging. Is it the unlikely adventure or the sense of mystery and magic? Do we see ourselves in the characters – the squabbling siblings, the prideful Bree and Reepicheep, and Edmund and his craving for Turkish Delight? What makes a good story?
As a wannabe novelist, I’m also intrigued by how Lewis came up with the idea of Narnia. He explains: “At first I had very little idea how the story would go. But then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it. I think I had been having a good many dreams of lions about that time. Apart from that, I don't know where the Lion came from or why he came. But once he was there, he pulled the whole story together, and soon he pulled the six other Narnian stories in after him.”
It is Aslan who holds the story together, the Christ-figure, the lion who is not safe but who is good. I find myself watching for a glimpse of Aslan, for a whisper of the promise in my world, “Aslan is on the move.” And that is the grace of the story, that in the creation, sacrifice and redemption of the Narnian world, we catch a glimpse of another Lion, another sacrifice.
I’m so grateful that we’re never too old to push aside the fur coats in an old wardrobe and discover Narnia. Listen – could that be the roar of a lion?
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