Mack stood motionless trying to absorb this experience that was beyond his ability to capture. “I had no idea…,” he whispered shaking his head and gazing into the distance. “Unbelievable!”
Sarayu laughed a shower of colors. “Just imagine, Mackenzie, if I had touched not only your eyes, but also your tongue and nose and ears.”
Finally, they were alone once more. The wild, haunting cry of a loon echoing across the lake seemed to signal the end of the celebration, and the sentinels vanished in unison. The only sounds remaining were a chorus of crickets and frogs resuming their own songs of worship from out of the water’s edge and surrounding meadows. Without a word, the three turned and walked back toward the shack that had again become visible to Mack. Like a curtain being drawn across his eyes, he was suddenly blind again; his vision returning to normal. He felt a loss and a longing, and even a little sad, until Jesus came alongside and took his hand, squeezing it to let Mack know that everything was as it should be.
16 A MORNING OF SORROWS
An infinite God can give all of Himself to each of His children.
He does not distribute Himself that each may have a part,
but to each one He gives all of Himself as fully as if
there were no others.
– A. W. Tozer
It seemed that he had only just entered a deep sleep of dreamless rest when Mack felt a hand shaking him awake.
“Mack, wake up. It’s time for us to go.” The voice was familiar, but deeper, as if she had just woken from sleep herself.
“Huh?” He groaned. “What time is it?” he mumbled as he tried to figure out where he was and what he was doing.
“It’s time to go!” returned the whisper.
Although he didn’t think that answered what he had been asking, he climbed out of the bed grumbling and fumbling until he found the lamp switch and snapped it on. It was blinding after the pitch dark and it took another moment until he could pry one eye open and squint up at his early morning visitor.
The man standing next to him looked a bit like Papa; dignified, older, and wiry and taller than Mack. He had silver-white hair pulled back into a ponytail, matched by a gray-splashed mustache and goatee. Plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up, jeans, and hiking boots completed the outfit of someone ready to hit the trail. “Papa?” Mack asked.
“Yes, son.”
Mack shook his head. “You’re still messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Always,” he said with a warm smile, and then answered Mack’s next question before it was asked. “This morning you’re going to need a father. C’mon now and let’s get going. I have everything you need on the chair and table at the end of your bed. I’ll meet you out in the kitchen where you can grab a bite to eat before we head out.”
Mack nodded. He didn’t bother to ask where they might be heading out to. If Papa had wanted him to know, he would have told him. He quickly dressed into perfectly fitting clothes similar to what Papa was wearing, and donned a pair of hiking boots. After a quick stop in the bathroom to freshen up, he walked into the kitchen.
Jesus and Papa stood by the counter looking a lot more rested than Mack felt. He was about to speak when Sarayu entered through the back door with a large rolled-up pack. It looked like an elongated sleeping bag, bound tightly with a strap hooked to each end so it could be easily carried. She handed it to Mack and he could immediately smell a wonderful mixture of scents arising from the bundle. It was a blend of aromatic herbs and flowers that he thought he recognized. He could smell cinnamon and mint, along with salts and fruits.
“This is a gift, for later. Papa will show you how to use it.” She smiled and hugged him. Or that was the only way he could describe it. It was just so hard to tell with her.
“You may carry it,” added Papa. “You picked those with Sarayu yesterday.”
“My gift will wait here until you return,” smiled Jesus, and he also hugged Mack, only with him it felt like a hug.
The two left out the back and Mack was alone with Papa, who was busy scrambling a couple eggs and frying two strips of bacon.
“Papa,” Mack asked, surprised at how easy it had become to call him that, “Aren’t you eating?”
“Nothing is a ritual, Mackenzie. You need this, I don’t.” He smiled. “And don’t wolf it down. We have plenty of time, and eating too fast is not good for your digestion.”
Mack ate slowly and in relative silence, simply enjoying Papa’s presence.
At one point Jesus poked his head into the dining area to inform Papa that he had put the tools they would need just outside the door. Papa thanked Jesus, who kissed him on the lips and left out the back door.
Mack was helping clean the few dishes when he asked, “You really love him, don’t you? Jesus, I mean.”
“I know who you mean,” Papa answered, laughing. He paused in the middle of washing the fry pan. “With all of my heart! I suppose there is something very special about an only begotten son.” Papa winked at Mack and continued. “That is part of the uniqueness in which I know him.”
They finished the dishes and Mack followed Papa outside. Dawn was starting to break over the mountain peaks, the colors of early morning sunrise beginning to identify themselves against the ashy gray of the escaping night. Mack brought Sarayu’s gift and slung it over his shoulder. Papa handed him a small pick that was standing next to the door and lifted a pack onto his own back. He grabbed a shovel with one hand and a walking stick in the other and without a word headed past the garden and orchard in the general direction of the right side of the lake.
By the time they reached the trailhead there was enough light to navigate easily. Here Papa stopped and pointed his walking stick at a tree just off the path. Mack could barely make out that someone had marked the tree with a small red arc. It meant nothing to Mack and Papa offered no explanation. Instead he turned and started down the path, keeping an easy pace.
Sarayu’s gift was relatively light for its size and Mack used the handle end of the pick as a walking stick. The path took them across one of the creeks and deeper into the forest. Mack was grateful that his boots were waterproof when a misstep caused him to slip off a rock into ankledeep water. He could hear Papa humming a tune as he walked, but didn’t recognize it.
As they hiked, Mack thought about the myriad of things he had experienced during the previous two days. The conversations with each of the three together and alone, the time with Sophia, the devotion he had been part of, looking at the night sky with Jesus, the walk across the lake. And then last night’s celebration topped it off, including the reconciliation with his father-so much healing with so little spoken. It was hard to take it all in.
As he mulled it all over and considered what he had learned, Mack realized how many more questions he still had. Perhaps he would get a chance to ask some of them, but he sensed that now was not the time. He only knew that he would never be the same again and wondered what these changes would mean for Nan and him and his kids, especially Kate.
But there was something that he still wanted to ask, and the issue kept gnawing at him as they walked. Finally, he broke the silence.
“Papa?”
“Yes, son.”
“Sophia helped me understand a great deal about Missy yesterday. And it really helped talking to Papa. Uhh, I mean, talking to you too.” Mack felt confused, but Papa stopped and smiled as if he understood, so Mack continued. “Is it strange that I need to talk to you about it, too? I mean, you are more of a father-father, if that makes any sense.”