In Isak Dinesen’s exquisite book, Out of Africa, she wrote this of the natives: “For of the Lord they knew from the great years of drought, from the lions on the plains at night, and the leopards near the houses when the children were alone there, and from the swarms of grasshoppers that would come on to the land, nobody knew where-from, and leave not a leaf of grass where they had passed. They knew Him, too, from the unbelievable hours of happiness when the swarm passed over the maize field and did not settle, or when in spring the rains would come early and plentiful, and make all the fields and plains flower and give rich crops.”
Last Sunday I experienced an old friend in a new way. He shared his explanation of “truth” of which there is no absolute, of time of which it is only a measurement, of us being eternal beings. (Even using the word eternal signifies time—we can’t avoid it.) He spoke of that level of clarity in which whatever you are doing appears to come from a higher power. He said that when he wrote his doctorial thesis it appeared to him that he just held a pen over the paper and it wrote itself.
I asked him if he was happy and he said “Yes.” He is in his 80’s, has one leg amputated, the other foot partially gone, has had cancer, a heart attack, diabetes, and is on dialysis three times every week. Last Sunday I met a happy man.
