Chapter Fifty-Two

In less than twenty minutes Henry entered his acreage. The dogs had heard him and charged towards the SUV. As he drove down the lane by the barn, his two quarter horses were grazing in the pasture beside. He honked the horn and Valley Seeker looked up for a moment, but quickly resumed her munching.

Henry slowed his vehicle as the dogs playfully nipped at each other near the front tires. Just before a large group of trees and shrubs, the lane took a sharp turn to the left and opened up to the view of the cedar log home and the sprawling valley all around. It was for that reason Henry named his acreage, Sudden Valley Ranch. For the flat prairie to suddenly give way to such an incredibly beautiful view of the valley was totally unexpected and always a shock to visitors seeing it for the first time.

It was a gorgeous, late fall day and Henry decided to follow through on his plan to give the dogs a run and head down into the valley. He quickly changed into jeans and a sweatshirt then hurried outside. The dogs heard him coming and sensed an impending run. They barked and jumped up like two overexcited children as they followed him to the garage.

As soon as the vehicle fired up, the dogs’ excitement escalated into pandemonium. Henry burst out of the garage and watched as the dogs’ uncontrolled pent up energy transformed into long graceful strides, going full out just to keep up with the speeding quad. Very quickly their tongues were hanging out and white saliva began to form. It was beauty in motion and Henry never tired of watching them run. When he slowed down a bit, the retriever caught up to Coco and tried to bump her and slow her down to get into the lead, but Coco just darted forwards always staying just enough ahead not to be thwarted by her mate.

When Henry and his family first moved to the acreage, he had a contractor cut a road around one of the hills near the home which led down to the valley bottom. As the road descended, the shoulder dropped sharply into a deep gorge. On this trip, Henry drove precariously close to the edge, heightening the sensation of danger. The air cooled as he followed the winding road to the valley floor. The dogs anxious to cool off, reached the bottom long before he did and were already swimming in the creek like two beavers.

Henry pulled up beside the water and turned off the engine. Even though his home sat on the side of the hill and had an incredible panoramic view of the valley, the view, atmosphere, and perspective of the valley from this vantage point nestled amongst the lush green grass and hills was one of peace and serenity. It always reminded him of the 23rd Psalm and many times Father made the same comment:

Yahweh is my shepherd,

I lack nothing.

In meadows of green grass he lets me lie.

To the waters of repose he leads me;

There he revives my soul.

Perhaps it was this ethereal setting which led him to build the Poustinia. The creek that meandered through and divided the valley, led both into and out of a naturally occurring pond. It was on the edge of this large body of calm water where Henry’s prayer house was situated. He gazed at the cabin’s mirror reflection in the still water. Occasionally, a dying ripple from the dogs swimming nearby brought a sense of life to its reposeful state.

Henry alighted from the quad and walked around the pond to the Poustinia. Unfortunately, neither Henry nor his family had used the house once completed. Only Father Engelmann had used it. Henry, much to his chagrin, was always caught between two magnetic poles: the attraction of his Lord and the strong pull and lure to the ways of the world. He couldn’t believe that at his age and stage in life he still hadn’t come to terms with the most important decision of his life.

He stepped onto the deck and drank in the magnificent view before him. Most of the trees and shrubs covering the hills had lost their late summer olive green shade and turned into the bright yellow, ochre, vermillion and red colours of fall. It was how the deep purple and crimson chroma of the leafless brush and thickets harmonized in between in a spectacular array of colour that took his breath away.

Henry staggered, drunk by the beauty of nature’s profusion of brilliant pigments across the valley, and as his eyes lowered to the reflection in the placid pond, only to see those dazzling hues repeated once more. Complete intoxication overtook him. If only the prairie wind could be quieted for a spell and allow these autumn leaves to peek through the white snow of winter, what a rich warm season it would be.

The dogs were out of the water on the other side of the creek chasing some scent until Coco saw her master sit on a wooden chair and launched herself towards him; Ginger followed. Within moments, the dogs were on the deck showering Henry as they shook the water from their fur.

“Enough,” Henry cried. “Lay down!” It took several more commands before the dogs finally settled on the deck and basked in the sun.

Henry rested his head against the reclining back of the chair and watched swallows swoop down on the water and scoop up insects from the surface. It was fascinating how the graceful birds slipped through the wind barely touching the water, and when they did the sun danced off the tiny splash like a diamond. It was all so beautiful, but his eyes grew heavy and fluttered. Before they closed he captured the serenity of the scene on the inner screen of his mind.

The word tranquility became a temporary mantra that captured the moment; unhurriedly, almost sluggishly he rolled this most beautiful and melodic word over and over, spreading a soothing balm throughout his being, filling him with an indescribable peace. His thoughts thinned, slowed, quieted; becoming ever more in harmony with the stillness.

“Yes,” murmured Henry, “to the waters of repose He leads me.”

Having attained that quiescent state, he drew from the unlimited source of energy found in the essence of silence and heard the deeper sounds of harmony and beauty that are of God. He was in perfect peace by keeping his mind on his Lord. At once he saw the truth: God alone is sufficient.

Immersed in quietude, Henry fell into a trance-like state. He was at one with what is. The scripture he so often spouted took on new meaning: Be still and know that I am God.

“Oh, there you are, Father, we were looking all over for you. I saw Henry leave over an hour and a half ago and I thought you went back to your room.”

“Yes, yes,” said Father Engelmann, “I thought I would talk to the Lord for awhile, I never realized it was so close to dinner time.”

“Everyone is already seated and some have started to eat. Please come, I would like to introduce you to everyone.”

“I will be there momentarily.”

“Good, we are having pot roast, tonight, and Agnes makes a terrific gravy.”

“I can smell the roast, now that you mention it.”

Angela looked at Father and smiled then turned and walked away. Father turned back to the cross behind the altar. He had been so deep in prayer he hadn’t realized how quickly the time had gone.

He made the sign of the cross, genuflected. “Help me to relate to these people, Lord. Bless this house and watch over Henry as he drives home. Or, should I say, thank you for watching over Henry as he drove home.”

Father left the chapel and hurried towards the dining room just off the kitchen. When he got there, everyone was seated and the cook was just setting out the plates.

“Oh look,” said Angela, “here is Father Engelmann. You can sit over there.” Angela pointed to the empty chair between Mr. Lure and Mrs. Lawson.

“Yes, thank you,” said Father. After Father was seated, Angela introduced him to all the residents.

“Well, everyone, this is Father Engelmann. Father said you can call him Father Engelmann or David, whatever you wish. He was the priest at St. Mary’s Church and has decided to retire and live here. Father, this is Helen.”

Angela stood behind Helen and put her hands on Helen’s shoulders then moved to next person. “This is Elizabeth. She moved in here about a month ago. She is settling in very nicely.” The next person was Johnny Louis. He was in a wheelchair and wasn’t sitting on a wooden chair like everyone else.

“Hi, Father,” said Mr. Louis, “welcome to our home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Louis.”

Angela moved entirely around the table. As the people were being introduced, some greeted Father while others were already eating, and didn’t even bother to look up. Finally, Angela stood behind Father and patted his shoulders, “Welcome again, Father. Enjoy your first home-cooked meal at Nunnery Place.”

“Thank you, Angela.”

Without further ado, Father bowed his head and then said, “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Dear Father, we thank you…”

A fork clattered onto a plate, as Millie, so shocked by hearing someone say grace, just looked up and stared at Father. Mr. Louis hadn’t started eating, yet, and most everyone else stopped eating as well, their food and forks somewhat suspended in different positions, all except Margaret, who just kept on eating, not out of disrespect, but because she was a little hard of hearing.

“…Lord for this food. Bless our conversation, and all the wonderful people at this table. And bless Angela and the cook who prepared this meal. We ask this blessing in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

“Amen,” said Mr. Louis, as he looked up at Father and smiled.

Father picked up his fork and knife and cut into the roast beef. Everyone was busy eating, so no one spoke. All focus was on eating as if this was the only pleasure they had left. There were eleven residents seated at the table including Father. There was one empty chair near the end of the table. Father was later to learn that that was Norma’s. She was out for dinner at her son’s home and would be back before bed.

Father felt a little uncomfortable just sitting there and eating without the accompaniment of conversation and sharing. After several mouthfuls, and still no one speaking, Father finally said, “Well, Mrs. Lawson, have you children in Regina?”

Once again, everyone stopped eating except for Margaret. It was unusual for someone to speak at the table.

“Why, yes, Father, I have two children, a son and daughter. My son lives in Calgary, but my daughter lives here in Regina.”

“So, does she have children?”

“Yes, two boys, I think they are 8 and 9.”

“Well, they must be quite something.”

There was a long silence and finally Mrs. Lawson spoke. “Well, they don’t come and visit that often. They are very busy, you know how it is with young families, nowadays. They have so many activities planned, lessons to take…and…” Mrs. Lawson’s voice trailed off, carrying a tone of disappointment.

Father sensed she was lonely, but didn’t want to pursue it, yet.

“And, you, Mr. Louis, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, it’s been at least eight years. Ever since my car accident, I needed someone to help. I tried living at home with mom, but she is getting on and can barely look after herself, so here I am giving Angela a rough time, every day.”

Angela caught the tail end of that comment, as she picked up an empty plate and set down a bowl of jelly in front of Helen at the same time.

“Oh, you’re pretty easy to look after, Johnny Louis.”

By the time dinner and dessert was over, Father tried to talk to everyone at the table. Some responded, but most of them were very abrupt, answering yes or no without really engaging in a conversation. By the time Father got to his dessert, only two people were left at the table; Mr. Louis and Margaret, who was sort of dozing off.

“Would you like to sit in the TV room, Margaret?” Angela asked, almost yelling.

Margaret startled awake. Angela put her hand on her shoulder and gently shook Margaret’s shoulder. Margaret looked up at Angela. Angela repeated her question and Margaret nodded. Angela helped Margaret up and together they walked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“Well, Mr. Louis, it’s a lovely evening to sit out in the courtyard and have a cup of tea, shall we go out and watch the sun go down?”

“Oh, no thanks, Father. There is a TV show coming on in 10 minutes that I want to watch. But you go ahead. Perhaps I will see you later.”

“Of course, Mr. Louis. May I call you Johnny?”

“For sure, Father. Mr. Louis is way too formal for me.”

Father smiled. Angela appeared again bringing his tea.

“Oh, I think I will have my tea in the courtyard.”

“I’ll carry it out there for you and set it on the patio table.”

“Thank you, Angela. That is very kind of you.”

Father followed Angela outside.

It was a gorgeous late fall evening and the air was unusually still for the prairies since the courtyard was surrounded by the care home, keeping the stronger breezes out. The sun was far off to the west and low in the clear cloudless sky. Only half of the courtyard at that time could still catch the sun’s light. The shadows of the tall pine trees crept across and up the east wall of the care home further shielding out the pleasant rays of the sun. Father felt the chill and knew he wouldn’t be out here for long.

He turned one of the four chairs by the table and sat down. He sipped his tea and gazed at a huge patch of flowers enclosed by a concrete border. Most of the petunias and geraniums were wilted and dead. It looked as though someone had brought out house plants to extend the growing and flowering season. A small area of ground near the north wall looked as if someone put in a garden and hadn’t cleaned up the dead stems and leaves. A barbeque stood near the door next to the kitchen.

“Well, Lord,” he said almost audibly, “Thank you for bringing me here.” Sounding like he was a parent of a slew of offspring he rambled “It’s good that there is a place to go when we get old, when we become too much of a burden for our children and yet, we’ve looked after them…”

Father was thinking of Mrs. Lawson and her family that doesn’t come that often to visit. Two or three of the other residents made similar comments. “Yes, we bring children into the world and sacrifice so much to raise them, to clothe them, feed them, educate them and then off they go; get married, raise children of their own and soon we are forgotten. In our later years most of us need help, but where are the children?”

Father remembered only too well how in the old country, children, parents and grandparents lived together as a family, caring and looking after each other. The elderly were revered, honoured, and respected for their wisdom. Nowadays, it was almost as if the old folks were castaways, forgotten people, put out to pasture and someone else was assigned the burden of tending to their care until death consumed them.

“Oh, David,” Father mumbled, “Don’t be so hard on this younger generation, like Mrs. Lawson said, they are too busy trying to make a living and getting ahead. But does it have to take top priority over their aging parents? We need each other. I can see the loneliness in their eyes. Their life is like a slow burning candle just waiting to be snuffed out. I’ve seen it in so many care homes during my visits. All too many children have almost abandoned their parents.”

Father knew why the Lord had led him here instead of some secluded seminary or fancy retreat in the mountains. He took another sip of his tea; there was no need to cautiously drink it, it was as cool as the growing chill in the air.

He set his cup down and looked at the chair next to him as if occupied by his Lord and asked straight out, “What can we do, Lord, to make these places fun, full of life, full of hope, full of love, full of you, Jesus. What is it that I can do?”

Father felt warm as he got more fired up. The message was coming in loud and clear. “St. Francis of Assisi said it centuries ago in his wonderful prayer:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon,

Where there is doubt, faith,

Where there despair, hope,

Where there is darkness, light, and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not seek to be consoled,

As to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved, as to love;

For it is in giving that we receive –

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

“Yes, Lord, I understand. I know in my heart what it is that you want me to do. Make me an instrument of your peace. Let me bring light, hope, faith, consolation, joy, let me bring love!”

It was either the growing coolness that restored him to the presence of the day or the eerie sounds of a pack of coyotes downstream piercing the stillness. The dogs leapt to their feet and barked their way into the chorus. After quieting Coco and Ginger, together they entered the Poustinia. Henry flicked on the light and made sure everything was ready for Father.

In the living room the two chairs in front of the patio doors facing the pond looked as if they hadn’t been moved or sat in since he bought and put them there well over a year ago. He parted the French doors and peeked into the bedroom; the bed was neatly made and a Bible was open on the table beside a large picture window that faced the brook meandering up the valley. Father often remarked how much he liked to read and look at that view. He felt certain that many times he could see the Lord walking on the stream coming to visit him.

On the way out, Henry checked the fridge. It was completely empty save for four bottles of water. That’s all Father ever requested when he was here for his three-day retreat. Henry surveyed the living room once more. Crucifixes were above each doorway, with a five foot high one on the wall next to the entrance on the west side. A small altar stood below the cross with a clay chalice centred on the table. Henry remembered the day he hung the huge cross and saw the radiance of a saint reflected on Fathers face. As soon as we brought in the small altar, Father said mass as if he could not wait another minute to eat His body and drink His blood. Henry shook his head in awe at the faith of that holy man.

The wall opposite the patio doors had shelves filled with books all related to the Lord, and a stereo with many relaxing CDs, but again, Father never listened to music or read anything but his Bible. The song of silence and his holy book contained everything he needed to hear, to know and more.

Henry smiled as he recalled the last thing Father said when they departed this afternoon, he wanted to go to the prayer house before winter set in so he could get regenerated for a fresh task. What were he and the Lord up to now?

Henry hit the light switch then stepped outside, his furry companions following.

“What an incredible sight,” muttered Henry as his eyes took in the beautiful valley filled with the hush of evening time. Somehow it filled him with even more peace than the view which had enraptured him earlier. He realized that it was at twilight that nature reaches its own quiescence.

It wasn’t just the soft light when the sun sunk below the horizon. It was the all-pervading atmosphere that arrested one’s troubles and cares. Details which busy and preoccupy the mind during daylight were diminished, almost totally obscured by the growing shadows of the night. The reflection of the distant hills in the silvery water of the pond was reduced to a simple shape of rich darkness contrasting sharply with the light of the rising moon. All the clutter of life disappeared, suggesting timelessness, simple clarity, oneness.

Without the water, Henry’s artistic sense thought, the beauty of nature, especially during this special time of day would lack life. In the same way the eyes are the windows to the soul and give man a sense of being alive, the glistening, sparkling and sheen of the pond, lake, stream or sea were the eyes of nature and gave it its spark of being, as well; otherwise the earth lay asleep, hiding its soul!

Henry felt exhilarated at the thought.

He hadn’t felt so refreshed for as long as he could remember. It was a wonderful day and he vowed to have more of them. A buoyant energy of spirit filled him as he stepped off the deck and followed the dogs on the moonlit path to his quad.

“Aha, this is Father’s secret to renewed strength and vitality,” Henry chuckled. “No wonder he makes this retreat twice a year.”

Just as he arrived at his vehicle, he noticed a V-shaped stream glimmering in the pond. If it had not been for that almost imperceptible ripple catching the light, he would never have noticed a beaver cutting through the water. He breathed in the crisp cool air of the glen, the atmosphere redolent of the pine trees he planted there over twenty years ago. All was quiet, save the natural sounds of the valley and the gentle panting of his protective escorts. As the darkness of the evening grew, more and more stars blossomed in the infinite meadows of the sky until the heavens were ablaze with millions of twinkling diamonds.

“How? How can anyone not believe in You?” whispered Henry. “How can the very being you created dare to question Your existence?”

The babbling water trickling through the nearby beaver dam seemed to concur Henry’s observation.

Reluctantly, he pressed the starter, shattering the spell of it all. As he ascended the winding road, he took with him a peace that no amount of money could buy. He understood why Father needed this retreat. It was his fountain of youth that gave him the energy, vigour and perhaps most of all the peace of his Lord which he gave freely to all who came his way.

Henry knew the Lord was patiently waiting for him to make that retreat, too. He felt the gentle tug almost daily, and he knew Father was praying for his salvation. He could feel the energy of Father’s petitions on his behalf. Twinges of guilt and thoughts of self-condemnation swept through him for his lack of commitment.

Above the sound of the roaring quad as it sped to the top, Henry cried out, “Oh Lord, give me the strength of conviction to place you completely at the centre of my life. Grant me the courage to follow Father’s footsteps!”

The echo of his plea resounded like thunder throughout the valley.