things remembered.

The mist hung low and wet each morning, caught between densely covered mountains reminding one of The Lost World. Stare long enough and they will almost convince you that at any moment, a t-rex might step out from among the trees. Those grey mornings, hauntingly beautiful, hold memories turned to ghosts that float here and there, quiet reminders of what was. The coffee on these mornings was hot and strong, removing the fog inside and leaving only that which clung to the mountain tops, not wanting to leave, yet unable to stay. 

It was all like walking back in time. Everything stood unchanged...or, at least, as unchanged as something can stand in this ever changing life. The river was beautiful and clear, running slow and quiet, whispering of a little girl who believed in fairies and Prince Charming, who believed in happily ever after, because what else could possibly happen? What other ending was there? So, with no other option set before her in this life, she hoped for all things, dreamed of much, imagined a far different life than the one this woman has found. 

Different. Not bad. Just different. 

Entering childhood once again, places almost forgotten, were revisited. Worlds imagined, beings unknown created, creatures that were as real as the wet mountain air around me, were somehow rediscovered. Dancing through each day so long ago, imagination was cultivated and the path to fairy land known, its path worn deep with each step taken into its realm. 

Standing once again on that path, surrounded by the ghosts of memories passed, they floated down once more. There, flitting back and forth, were gossamer winged fay, laughter bubbling up and out of beautiful rosebud mouths, asking where I’d been, exclaiming over how much I’d changed. Like Wendy reunited with Peter after she had dared to grow up, it’s hard to explain to memories that do not change, beings created in childhood that, you can’t much help it all. You have to grow up. Father Time demands it and leaves no other choice than to change with the passing of each moment you draw breath. 

How do you explain life? How do you explain to childhood creatures who are unchanging, that each moment you live changes you? Life recreates you. A young heart that is pure and unknowing brings to life those which are as well. Yet, unlike that young heart, which will be broken many times over, cracked and shattered, but then rebuilt into something new and older, something stronger for all the cracks and shatters, these little created hearts beating inside imagined creatures, will not change. They will forever remain like their creator’s heart, staying in the place she was when she created them. 

So, revisiting hurts. Reminding creator and created that though you may remember, things are not the same. Here is where a choice is placed before you: Will you choose to walk away because the explaining is too hard? Will you choose to not tackle the change with an older and wiser heart? Will you walk back down the path and leave behind forever that which you imagined so long ago? 

Or...

Will you stay and explain? Will you look around and remember the place the creatures came from, the place created in a different, but beautiful heart? Will you stay? Will you take words and craft from that deep well, new worlds, new creatures, new memories, from a stronger heart that remembers? From a heart that walks the path to fairy land often? Who still dreams of happily ever afters? Who can remember what being a child was like, reminding those who have decided to leave what it was, and capturing the young hearts of children who still live in this place? 

Is that even a choice? For as much as life has changed me, as different as I am, as much as I’m reminded of who I was so long ago, and see it contrasted against all that I am now, I still remember. I have not forgotten the way back. I hold in my heart the key that unlocks the door of the secret garden, where ogres roam, unicorns are real, and fairies dwell. Where knights save damsels in distress, princesses are strong and brave (occasionally rescuing the Prince), and trolls live under bridges. Where waters are crystal clear, castles reach for the sky, and where the rules of logic and reality are defied in order to imagine all the wonderful things that are possible inside this realm of imagination. 

There is only one choice for this heart. The life I lead is incredibly beautiful, not because it is extraordinary, but simply because I see with each day that passes how to find the extraordinary beauty in the most ordinary of moments and places. I have truly found that from which it all stems...the one place where imagination is created and cultivated, where worlds are imagined that point to the One from which all stories are told. I am a Storyteller, a dreamer, a lover of life and imagination, because the Living God dwells within me, and at His feet I have found the way back to childhood. 

This life, the current one I have, it has been filled to overflowing with pain, with the reality of what life on this earth holds, but I am constantly reminded that this is NOT my home! Oh no, there is SO much more to come than anything we leave behind, as C.S. Lewis said. So. Much. More. But, while I am here, let me be a Storyteller who creates worlds that taste of Heaven. That forever press you to gaze forward, always with eternity in sight, and longing for your true home. Like Narnia did for me so long ago, may all that is imagined from this side of the screen create a longing in your heart for that which you did not even know existed within you. For Jesus is more than enough and being home with Him is what we should crave above all else. While we are here though, while we are still on this business trip on earth, let’s enjoy every, single, moment that is gifted from above. 

This is the path I choose. And this path is worth it.