FoxFiles

Nike

2011-12-21T17:58:00.000-05:00

“So, how many times can you make the stone skip Nike?” “I don’t know; at least 14 or 15 times.” “Show me then.” Nike gripped the flat stone, about the size of his palm, with his index finger wrapped around its curved edge, his thumb opposing, and his pointing finger supporting from below. He drew the object back cocking his arm behind him. With a whipping motion of his arm almost parallel with the water he fired the stone in the direction of the sea. It spun as it roped out over the calm waves and dropped flat side toward the water. Glancing the surface in an iteration of smaller and smaller jumps the stone gave up its energy to the sea and sank. “That was only nine hero; better try again.”

Nike, now 16 years old, and Betawee had been interested in each other for a few months by this time. Kimeril was not aware exactly how interesting their relationship had become. Betawee was a beautiful yet beguiling young woman. She was from Kimeril’s settlement and was Nike’s second cousin.

Nike turned in her direction tipping his head to one side and called on his best smirk to accept the challenge. He perused his vicinity of the cost more carefully this time and chose a near perfect specimen of a skipping stone. Completely flat on both sides its circular edge had been beveled smooth by 150 years of jostling with the other stones in the surf of the Sea of Ashkenaz. Nike then secured his footing at the proper distance. He bent deeply at the knees. With great concentration he whipped this stone as the other but with more force and a truer aim.

“How old are you Beta?” He said; hands on hips, grin on face. “You know I just turned seventeen.” She said laughing as she tossed her hair unable to hold back a look of adulation; for that is the number of skips made by Nike’s stone. “Come here then.” Betawee slid off the large rock where she had been perched. She brushed the sand from her legs and buttocks as she walked over to Nike. As was their customary embrace, she stood with her toes on his. He reached his hands in, palms turned out and backs sliding along her hips, and clutched her hands. Fingers locking he pulled her close by drawing her arms around him to his lower back. Fingers still locked the two tall frames seemed pasted together from lips to toes. I admit; it was cute, that is, if one did not look upon it for too long in one stretch of time.

“Again with the kissing!” Billaad was on his way back from the delta. “I thought you told me that jealousy was wicked Billaad?” Billaad stopped and looked tiredly at the smug Nike. “Not at all what I said boy. To covet is wicked. It is a decided action of the heart. It is akin to stealing but lacks the physical deed. I covet nothing of yours. Jealousy is emoted. Like all feelings it can influence for good or for evil. In any case, one can’t be held in account for what one feels. If I am jealous of you, then it is not how you think. Indeed you have much to boast of: strength, coning, beauty, position. But he that glories, let him glory in the Lord. For not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. For I am jealous over you with godly jealousy: for I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as pure to our God and Father. If you receive a different spirit which you have not received, then you may well put up with it for a time. Yet a day will come when you have no remedy. Even though I am untrained in speech, yet I am not in knowledge. But we have been thoroughly made manifest among you in all things. [2 Corinthians 11] And now, after a hard days work which you would do well to be jealous of, I am returning home to my loving wife and family. You would do well to be jealous of this also as it dwarfs any base pleasure derived from the casual and caviler. If you have any questions about what I have said, then I suggest you take it up with your father Kimeril.” Billaad resumed his steady pace back to the village. “Woe! Lighten up Billaad! I was only stirring your soup man.” Nike then turned face and full attention back to Betawee. In between kisses he shared with her. “That guy is way too serious.” “And a little weird; don’t you think; espoused to one husband, you, what is he talking about?” She replied.

As you can probably tell, over the years Billaad had developed a strong and consistent relationship with God the father. It did not necessarily come easy nor did it happen all at once. But the shock of Crill’s untimely death, the increasing vacuousness of his mother’s paintings, together with his own emptiness, caused Billaad to search, seek, and then find the Holy Spirit of God. Billaad called upon the name of the Lord and was saved. Hallelujah! Billaad was blessed of God. Although his earthly possessions were modest, his family, friends, and God’s faithfulness continually filled his heart with joy unspeakable. When trials and tribulations did come his memories of his boyhood friend and their times together were a buoy of hope in the storm; not a weighty stone of depression. He would even on occasion and for the rest of his days on earth visit the face stone to talk to his old friend.

Most often the topic of these discussions was Crill’s younger brother Nikelus. Nike was a baby when Crill died and so had no memory of him. His mother Philia and Kimeril both shared regularly with Nike about Crill but Nike was not all that interested. In fact he had grown tired and even a bit irritated at these accounts. He was especially short nerved when his parents would bring up the fact that Crill knew God personally, all be it a short time hear on earth, at the age of ten. Nike had no such knowledge. Further, Nike was not interested in such knowledge. Despite many one-on-one discussions with Kimeril, Philia, and even Billaad, Nike remained disinterested in and sometimes even annoyed with the idea of God.

Don’t be mistaken and think Nike some sort of malcontent. He was very well liked and a very pleasant fellow to all. He did his chores, he was polite, he was funny and kind. He was all the things Billaad had mentioned and more. He was not particularly industrious nor was he one to make long term commitments, but, his charm, his manors, and his wit were enough to make up for any of these minor short comings; at least from an earthly perspective. “What a good kid.” This would be one of the first things out of anyone’s mouth if asked to describe him.

This general high regard from all, as it turned out, was one of the biggest stumbling blocks to Nike’s coming to know the Lord. Of what need to him was this God, whoever He was? After all, Nike, son of the chief, envy of all those worldly, he had everything going for him. What sense could he make of Billaad’s ramble standing there on the breathtaking shores of the Sea of Ashkenaz, the beautiful Betawee in his arms and not a care in the world? True evil was but a myth to him carried on in the worn out stories of the menacing Gog. And don’t even mention God’s wrath as poured out on the wickedness of man in the great flood. There was certainly too much fun to be had in each and every day to waste time listening to those impossibilities. For him, turning a woman’s head or a glance of Betawee’s form as she moved was enough to disintegrate any care of eternity.

A short time later Nike and Betawee also returned to the village. They went to Nike’s house where Nike had some unfinished mending to the roof he needed to work on. As he fashioned the repairs, Betawee joined the women of his long house in the preparation of the evening meal. Betawee’s contribution was both welcomed and encouraged by her parents as well as Nike’s. You see both sets of parents approved of the potential marriage of the two. So any encouragement they could give in securing the union in a proper fashion was helpful to all.

Present among the group of women were: Philia, Palia, Lynda, Betawee, and Nike’s two older sisters (Helleen and Gildalee). When Betawee entered the kitchen area the work was already in full swing and the group was a buzz concerning the evening meal. Betawee caught on quickly that the men (Kimeril, Grip, Tiras, and Engain) had hunted down and killed a lesser dragon.

Yes, as it turns out the shapes that darted about so quickly in and out of the shadows so as not to be recognized on the fishing expedition were a variety of reptile slightly larger than a man. As the settlement expanded and their population grew, well, man and dragon began to ‘bump’ into each other. Scavengers mostly but when the presence of one close to the settlement became known, the men would hunt it down and kill it as a precautionary measure. One of the children might become too much of a temptation for the beasts. The hunting procedure was not too difficult. They simply killed one of the livestock. Took the carcass out into the woods. Camouflaged their position and waited. Sooner or later, the beast would come upon the dead animal to feed and the men would coordinate their attack. Fortunately for settlement, the meat of the dragons tasted very good. And so, it would be a fine feast this night for the family of Kimeril. Here is some of what the ladies had to say to each other:

Philia: Betawee, come on in darling and sit down here next to me. We will get you started on the salid.

Palia: Where is that handsome boo of yours?

Betawee: Oh, somewhere overhead I expect.

Gildalee: Please, don’t put the brat on too high a pedestal.

Helleen: Sister, now don’t you forget, Nike has been floating ten feet off the ground for the past two months over this one.

Gildalee: Yea, you would think he would learn after crashing to the ground over the last one.

Philia: Girls! That is no way to talk to Betawee. She is an honored guest in our home and you will treat her with the respect she deserves. Now apologize!

Helleen: I am sorry if what we said upset you Betawee. We meant no disrespect to you.

Gildalee: Yes Betawee, I am sorry also. We like you. We are just not so taken by Nike’s charm as so many others seem to be. Nike has not treated the girls he has seen in the past well at all. He smothers them with superficial platitudes for a short period of time only to become distracted by some other girl. His charm then becomes unfocused and the girl drops him like a stone. I am sorry mother but you know that it is all true. These remarks of ours are meant to caution Betawee not insult her.

There is an awkward silence as the women continue their work.

Lynda: Do we then not know where Nike is?

Philia: He is on the roof working to repair a leak.

The women all broke into a roll of subdued laughter that cut the tension.

Philia: Gildalee, your brother is not perfect. I think you question his intensions too harshly. Did any of us know what we were doing when first we excited the attentions of a man? Nike has, I will admit, been fumbling around in his relationships with girls. His individual faults are no more severe than were those of his father Kimeril when he was Nike’s age. Are they worse than your husband’s were Helleen? What about yours Gildalee? If Betawee is to be cautioned, then it is a general caution she should receive.

Betawee: I like Nike; faults and all.

There was more laughter from the group but this time it was less guarded.

Palia: That is plan enough for all to see.

Lynda: And don’t let any of us nags spoil it for you dear.

The women continued to work while tossing about some related banter among them to the effect that their husbands still had plenty of faults and a good dousing into Betawee’s wide eyed enthusiasm might help them through some spots here and there. And then came an interjection for the whole group:

Philia: I do hope and pray that one of Nike’s stumbling blocks would be removed and without haste.

Betawee: I know Philia. You would have him pay more attention to his family; especially his younger sisters. And I agree.

Philia: No Betawee. That is not what I am talking about. I pray to the Father daily that he would call on the name of the Lord and be saved.

Betawee: Yes, I have been meaning to ask. What is it exactly that you all mean by that?

Philia: I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He hath inclined His ear unto me, therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserves the simple: I was brought low, and He helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from failing. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted: I said in my haste, All men are liars. What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits toward me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. O Lord, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the daughter of thine handmaiden; thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord.

Just then there was a load cry from outside the building: “Oh my God; Oh my God!” The women all spring from their work and rushed out of the long house. Just as they were exiting, Nike leapt from the roof above and landed some 5 cubits to their right. The women all let out a shriek of surprise. Betawee, shouted, “Nike! What is the matter?” He paid the calls from the women no mind and dashed toward the stand of trees about 30 cubits from the house. Something high in one of the trees caught the women’s’ attention. It was a child; a young girl. She seemed to be dangling from a branch. The women, hands to their hearts and mouths, began to move quickly toward the seen.

Nike bulled through the small crowd at the base of the tree and sprang up the trunk foothold to foothold; branch to branch. In a flash, he and the rope slung over his shoulder, he had been using in his work on the roof, disappeared into the foliage of the great oak that stood at least 40 cubits high. About this time little Haran, eight years old, climbed down to the last branch, five cubits high, and plopped to the ground. Dusting himself off, he moved toward the crowed as they started at him. “What were the two of you thinking?” “Is there anyone else up their?” “If anything happens to her…” The boy belted out in a loud voice: “I told her not to come. I told her it was too dangerous to climb so high. She would not listen!” Just then Gildalee wrapped her son up in her arms and carried him some distance from the group as they both broke into a flood of tears. Some in the crowd continued to shout out interrogations in the boy’s direction. Philia called out for them: “STOP! Gildalee will find out what is what from the boy. We should all bow our heads in prayer for the child and for Nike who has gone to her rescue.” “Philia, it is Estrala.” Lynda informed her friend as gently as she could. “Yes, and we will pray for her now.” Replied Philia and she led the group in a short but direct prayer for her two children high above in the tree.

Nike had reached Estrala’s height. He was still close to the center of the tree and his sister was out on a small broken limb. There were no limbs close to her that could possibly hold him. She was positioned at a Y in the branch. Under her right arm pit went one limb of the Y. The other limb appeared to have been shoved between her dress and her back. The end of the branch was shooting out of the top of her dress at the neck; right behind her head. She was crying.

“Estrala.” “Yes? Nike, is that you?” “Yes, are you alright?” “Nike, I am so scared. Please help me. I am going to fall.” “Hold on sister. Will you hold on tight?” “Yes I will but you have to help me.” “I am. I will be right there. Just hold on.” “Ok.”

Nike noticed a thicker branch shooting of from the center of the tree in the direction of Estrala about five or six cubits above her. It was also a few cubits short of her position too. Nike squirreled his way up and out the thicker branch until he came to a spot he could secure the rope. The branch here was about as thick as his calf where it split into two branches each about as thick as his forearm. Nike positioned himself in the Y of this branch for a moment while he tied the rope around his chest just under his arms. He looped the rope through the Y and grabbed hold of the other side. This way he lowered himself down. As he changed the position of one hand on the opposite end of the rope, the slack slid through the Y and lowered the end tied around his chest.

In no time Nike was hanging about a cubit below his sister and three cubits from her toward the center of the tree. “Here I am Estrala.” The young girl of eight peered over her right shoulder and could see her brother. “Oh good, please hurry.” “I am on a rope and I am going to swing over to you.” “Ok.”

Down below the mood was tense. They could see that Nike was close but they could not determine his plan nor his exact progress. Most of the men from the adjacent long houses were all away from the vicinity at this time. Formill was present. He had injured his leg the week before and was recooperating at home. “Nike! How is it going?” Formill shouted up. “It goes well.” Nike responded. “Do you need anything?” “Yes, all my strength. So, I won’t be shouting down to you anymore.” Just then Betawee said something very softly. So softly in fact that nobody in the crowd around her heard. She said; “Please Lord, give Nike strength.” It was out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say it. A rush came over her whole body followed by an inexplicable calm. She did not know how she knew but then and there she knew Nike and Estrala would be safe.

Nike had wrapped the opposite side of the rope around his right forearm and held it in his right hand. He began to swing back and forth; back and forth until he gained the momentum that carried him to the stranded Estrala. At the apex of his swing he, all at once and with his left arm, reached under her left armpit and grasped the branch coming out from under her right armpit. He then kissed his sister on the left cheek. “Thank you Nike. I knew you could do it.” “Now let’s get you out of here.” “Yes.” The branch coming out of her dress that had been helping to keep her from falling was now an obstacle in her release. “Sorry girl. This might hurt a bit. Just hold fast to my arm.” Nike lifted his right foot up to where the branch went under her dress near her lower back. He planted it on top of the branch and pushed down with his foot.

The branch was only sticking out the top of the dress by a little more than a cubit and Nike easily pulled it down and through. At the same time he lifted the girl off of the branch with his left arm. She let out a cry as the branch scraped against the cuts and bruses she had sustained in her earlier fall. As the two swung free of her entanglement Nike asked; “Are you ok?” “Yes, I will be fine now.”

Down below all of the swinging, cries of pain, and rustling of branches was almost too much for the crowd. But when they caught a view of Nike pulling the two of them up; Estrala wrapped tightly around his neck they let out a great cheer. It took many minutes more for Nike to bring the girl carefully down to the ground. Again they were met with a great swell of cheering excitement.

Not Alone

2011-12-21T17:18:00.002-05:00

Morning came with a bright blue sky. There was just enough of a crack in the canopy above our pool to see the beautiful color. This was to be our last day before heading back to the village. Billaad and I had had enough of fishing and by midday we convinced my father to let us explore the river just above the water fall. After eating Tiras would escort us up and over the platue. We also would take the two dogs. My dad and the other men would have another afternoon of fishing.

“Hey that’s my finger.” “Don’t climb so close behind me then.” Billaad and I were climbing up the platue near the waterfall. We had decided it best because taking time to look for a better way might take too long and separate us too much from the group. “Ok, I will back off but hurry up.” I was impatient. I had let Billaad go before me. Tiras and the dogs were already at the top. “Have grandpa pull you up in a bag like he did the dogs if you are in that much of a hurry.” As you know already Billaad could be quite direct for an 11-year-old boy.

So Billaad gets to the top and says: “Wow! That’s amazing!” “Alright, alright just get out of the way.” I wanted to see what was so amazing. Now, if you’ve never been a 11 or 12 year old boy, then you may not appreciate how amazing a river, a hand breadth deep, running through a bed of rocks can be. The rocks were all different sizes. There were small stones completely submerged. There were rocks half in and half out of the water. There were rocks so large the two of us could not budge them. And, there were even a few boulders as large as a horse. We, of course, would try to make our way to and fro by only standing on rocks with surfaces above the streaming water. We also played a game where we were battling Gog and his Scythians.

We were having a joyous time. Occasionally we would get close enough to the falls to wave and shout down to the men fishing. To which my father would reply with hands waving: “Get back from the edge there! Do you want to fall off?” We would just laugh and then retreat back to our game. The stream of the water had picked up a bit because of the rain and it was actually a little warmer now. You see the rain water was a little warmer than the river water.

We had been up there a while and sensed that soon my father would call us back. We planned one last onslaught to drive out the invading Gog when a most peculiar thing happened. The river got very cold and the stream of water picked up considerably. Tiras noticed it and stood up on the large rock that was his look out position. He hollered at us to come back. Billaad feigned back “Aahhhg!”, softly so that nobody but I would hear his mockery. We started back but it was not fast enough for Tiras. He gave another shout. It was louder this time and sounded much more urgent. We did hear that the sound of the rolling water up river from us was increasing in intensity yet again.

Tiras slid down from his watch point and started to make his way toward us on the dry rocks whose number was quickly dwindling on account of the rising water. He met Billaad who was ahead of me and hosted him up on his back. He was about to continue on and get me when a large rush of water hit. This rush consumed all of the once exposed rocks between Tiras and myself (about a 5 cubit span). Tiras held up his hand to signal I should wait there. He quickly bounced form rock to rock with Billaad on his back and delivered him to the point where we had ascended. The water’s edge only a few cubits from there now and the uncles were barley able to get Billaad down before the water started to rush over that section of the cliff as well.

By that time both Tiras and my dad had returned to the rock closest to me that had not succumbed to the now ice cold water. In fact we could see some rather large chunks of ice being carried with the flow. It was fast and deep now and 10 cubits separated my bolder from theirs. Tiras had grabbed the rope used earlier to hoist the dogs. He tossed me the end with the harness. I caught it and my dad shouted as load as he could that I should secure it around the top of the now dampened rock. It was now less than one cubit above the rushing water. Seconds later Tiras grabbed my dads arm and pointed to another large rush of water headed our way. The men knew that this rush would surly prevail above my rock. They could see that I was having difficulty securing the rope. My dad called to me again. “Tie the harness around you under your arms!” He said as they both demonstrated on themselves. I understood and hastily fastened the harness in place.

The last hook fastened I looked up to my dad with a smile on my face: “I did it!” I yelled. They were bracing themselves. I turned up stream just as the rush hit my rock. It hit me waist high and with such force to drive me into the icey torrent. I was carried quickly down stream until I felt a fierce and sudden jolt of the end of the rope. The rush quickly passed and the water was about to the top of my stomach. and moving fast. I could not stand against the current and gave up any attempt to do so. I could feel my father and grandfather pulling me against the current. I tried lying on my back with my head pointed up stream. I made myself as stiff as I could like a board so as to ride the current and keep my head above water.

It was working well. A few times my head would dip under the water and the icy cascade would work to push me to the bottom. I would drive my heals into the rocks below as hard as I could and push my head out and then regain the stiff board position gliding through the water. As my elders worked to pull me closer to their rock small chunks of ice pelted my back and shoulders. I was very cold now but I could here the shoots of my dad to hang on; that they would have me out soon. Moments later I looked up and I could see them. Just then the current grabbed me and pulled me under. As I struggled to pop my head out a large chunk of ice hit me square on the top of my head.

The next thing I knew, I could hear the crackling of the fire. As I opened my eyes I could see my dad’s face. He smiled and said; “Hi Crill how do you feel son?” To which I responded, “Miss me?” My dad wrapped his arms around me, kissed my check and said; “It’s so good to talk to you son, we thought we might lose you.” “What happened?” I asked. “As far as I can tell, just before we pulled you out a large chunk of ice hit you in the head. You have a nice gash on your head that we bandaged up after we brought you to camp. We then changed you out of the wet cold clothing and set you near the warm fire. And here you are.” “Where did all the icy water come from and so fast?” “We don’t know. That has never happened before. The Guslar has not heard of it happening any where either.” He has heard some wild stories from trappers about mountains of ice to the north. Maybe the icy water came from those mountains?”

“How’s your head Crill?” Asked Billaad. He was peering over my dads shoulder munching on some fish. “It hurts but I think it’s ok. How about you?” “I’m fine. You should have seen it Crill. The water came all the way up to the edge of our camp for a little while. It was a little scary and the horses were going crazy. We were all worried about you too. It’s nice to see you talking and all. Want some fish?” “Na, I am not hungry. I think I will just lie here and rest.”

The next morning was another beautiful one. I was aloud to sleep in a little. My dad woke me when we were about all packed up to go. We ate a light breakfast and were on our way. As we walked down stream along the trail that morning we could see from various vantage points some of the damage done by the rushes of ice water. Small trees were uprooted. Debris logs were jammed and caught in a number of different obstacles, like well routed large trees and rock formations.

I asked my dad what the rushes would do to the delta. He did not know but was hopeful the majority of the crops would survive. I also made a confession to my dad as we walked.

“Dad.” “Yes Crill.” “You know when I was alone on that rock?” “Yes, son.” “Well, I was really scarred.” “I don’t blame you boy, I would have been scared too. I mean you could have been seriously injured or worse.” “Yea, I was scared like that but I mean a different scarred.” “Different how?” “It is kind-a hard to explain.” “Will you try?” “The worst part about being on that rock was that I was alone. You were down below and Tiras was carrying Billaad to safty. And I was alone.” “But God was with you.” My dad put his hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “No dad, he was not.” I stopped and my dad stopped. The others then stopped and looked at us.

“Grip, let’s take a break at that clearing just ahead. You all go on and Crill and I will catch up.” Grip acknowledge and the others proceeded. “What do you mean God was not with you?” “I am telling you dad; God was not there on that rock with me. I was all alone.” “Crill, you were just scarred. God is always with us.” “Dad, I am telling you He was not with me on that rock and He is not with me in the ways you describe that He is with you. I was alone!”

I could see that my dad was perplexed and frustrated by my testimony. After a pause he said: “Why would He not be with you? Now, let’s go and take a break with the others.”

Now, at the clearing my dad and I were seated together and the Guslar came over and asked if he could join us. We welcomed him. Crill, you seemed upset back there. Did it have anything to do with your incident on the river? Does your head feel alright?” “My head is fine. It is my heart that troubles me.” “How so?” “Like I told my dad; I was alone on that rock. My dad was down below, Tiras was rescuing Billaad and God was somewhere else.” “But, God is everywhere Crill.” “Maybe Mr. Guslar but He was not with me on that rock; I was alone. And that’s not all; if I would have died in that river, then I fear I would have been alone forever.”

“Wait a minute Crill!” My dad jumped in. “God loves you and if for some reason, as you say, He was not with you on that rock, then that was only temporary. He would not allow you to spend an eternity apart form Him. Why do you think He would do such a thing to you; one he loves so?” “I don’t know. Dad, is God with you?” “Yes, He is son.” “How do you know?” “His Spirit makes His presence known to me everyday in the communion of prayer.” “And if you did not have this communion?” “Well, I guess I would not know.” “Dad, I have no such communion. I mean I pray to Him and all but I have no communion. God is not with me.” “Do you want Him to be with you?” Asked the Guslar.

“After that incident on the river? I do and more than anything. I don’t want to be alone forever.” “Then call upon His name.” “How do I do that?” “Are you right with Him Crill?” “What do you mean?” “Do you always do what is right in His eyes?” “No!” “Can you do right always?” “I don’t think so.” “Does He want you to do right always?” “Yes.” “Then call on His name to make you able to do right and to forgive you when you do wrong.” “That’s all I have to do?” “You can think of another way?” “No.” “Then what have you got to lose?” “Nothing, I guess. I have nothing to lose.” “What do you have to gain?” “I would be accepted by God and not rejected on account of sin but what is His name? How can I call if I don’t know His name?” “God has always existed. He exists now. He will always exist. God is. He is the great ‘I Am’. His name is “I Am!”

Before I knew it I fell on my knees right there next to my dad and the Guslar. I bowed my head and outstretched my hands without really knowing why. I started to cry as I said, with a load vice these words:

“God, I know I do wrong. Please forgive me. And I know I am alone helpless to do right. I call on your name, ‘I Am’, to save me. Please create in me a new heart. Please bless me with your presence and may I not be alone forever. Amen.”

After I was done praying I looked up as my father came in to hug me. The Guslar was looking up to heaven and praising God. All the other men and Billaad were just starring at me mouths open wide but I did not care. I was crying and laughing at the same time and uncontrollably. I can’t describe much of what happened to me in those moments but I can tell you that I was no longer alone.

As we walked on that afternoon it was becoming clear to the men that we would not make the site we had camped at on the way up the river. We were all tired and the excitement of the journey up river had turned to drudgery as we made our way down river. Besides, my head had begun to hurt.

Settled around the fire, bellies full and tired, the men’s talk started to center around tomorrow’s trek. There was much debate on whether or not we could make it all the way back in one day. Here we had one of the few disagreements I can recall between Grip and my dad. Grip was adamant that our group in its present condition could not cover the remaining distance in one day’s time. Kimeril was just as sure that we could. Never heated the dialogue did become intricate.

“Look Kim, on the way up we only covered barely two thirds of what remains in a day and we were fresh and keen to move.” “Awe yes but we had a late start and our focus was the wide eyed amazement of discovery not the narrow road toward home.” They went on but it was about this time that the pain in my head became much more acute. I attempted to bear up but its affects were visible to the men and uncle spoke up.

“Crill, what’s the matter boy?” This brought the attention of the other men. Billaad had fallen asleep some time before. When I failed to answer Grip and my dad stopped their banter and attended to my painful distress.

“Crill. Crill!” My dad had come to my side and grabbed my hand. I was a little disoriented. I could hear him and when I made eye contact, although fuzzy, I smiled. “Are you all right?” “My head really hurts dad. And I am dizzy.” “Someone get a cold compress and let’s give them some room to breath.” Grip instructed the men.

“Can I get you something Crill; a drink of water?” My dad was getting frantic and looking about indecisively; worried. I could hear him and all the men as they talked amongst each and another as to what was the best course of action to help me. But the sound of their voices became increasingly far off or a little muffled. Also, my vision was blurred; the periphery so much so as to make those figures unrecognizable. I could see my dad though and he was so attentive. He was stroking my face as they laid the cold cloth on my forehead.

“Dad.” “Yes son, I am here.” “I am not alone dad.” “That’s good son. We are all here boy.” “Grandpa, is he hear?” “Yes, Crill. Now hang on son. You are going to be all right. This is probably a small relapse from your accident. I am right here with you and here I will stay right through the worst of it son. I love you. How is the pain?” “I love you too dad. It hurts a lot now. I think I would like to go to sleep. Maybe that will make me feel better.” Grip shuck his head and my dad responded; “No son why don’t you wait a while. Stay up and talk with me like the other night ok?” “Sure dad I liked that.”

The men were all scurrying around now. They checked the wound sight on my head but that looked pretty good. It had never swelled up much and the gash had no puss on it. “Dad!” I exclaimed. “I can’t see!” The light of the fire had gone out in my mind and it was pitch black to me now. “I am right here son.” My dad gripped my hand tight and bent close kissing my check. “Oh dad I can’t see you. Please keep talking dad. Would you pray dad?”

“Yes son. Dear God. Lord I ask you to be with my son Crill now and comfort him. Ease his suffering father. May the pain be removed and his sight restored. Lord be with us now to set things right and new and it is in you we trust. Amen.” “Thank you dad. You are good to me. I am not alone dad. But I need to rest. Will we see mother and Nike tomorrow? I’ll talk to you again in the morning dad goodnight.” “No son, stay with me now.”

Mujde!

2011-12-21T16:52:00.000-05:00

We covered a lot of ground the next day. The surrounding mountains were getting bigger. The trees were getting taller the river was getting narrower but it seemed to be moving faster. And the fish were jumping higher. When we reached a water fall in mid afternoon my father said, “This is it.” It was a beautiful spot. The falls were about 15 or 20 cubits high with a large pool about 25 cubits wide and some 70 cubits long. A beaver had built a damn which help exaggerate the natural size of the basin. There was a large clear dry platue on the eastern side (our side) of the river some 30 cubits removed with about 5 or so cubits elevation above the river. Our camp would be close enough to see the pool but far enough away as not to disturb the sport.

There was enough time left in the day to set up camp, fish for dinner, and begin work on a raft that would float us out into the pool. There would be little conversation this night; all men old and young fast asleep shortly after dark. That is except for our sentry. One of the adults stayed awake to keep the fire going and ward off any inquisitive nighttime visitors.

The next day was full of activity; fishing, building exploring, story telling, and eating. Incidentally, I was wrong. One of the men was an outstanding cook. The Guslar prepared the fish in so many different ways on that trip that none got sick of eating it. He had a bag of spices and refused to tell anyone what any of it was. I didn’t care; I just ate it up.

After dinner and around the campfire we played a game of sorts. The Guslar started the game; he called it Mujde. Billaad’s uncles knew this word. It was a word of the language of the people of Gomer. The Guslar knew many of the languages. Let me explain. As I have said before after the confusion at the tower of Babel each tribe (sons of 2^nd generation patriarchs) spoke their own language. The 2^nd generation patriarchs themselves, like Tiras and Gomer, together with Noah and his sons and all their wives spoke the first tongue. The speakers of the first tongue can’t learn any of the new languages and none of the 3^rd generation and beyond can learn the first tongue. However, people can learn the individual tribal languages across tribal boundaries. This learning is difficult and some are more gifted than others but it can be done. All three of the brothers, sons of Ashkenaz, learned our tribal language for example. And, as we came to find out this night, the Guslar could speak many of them. It seemed there was no end to his bag of tricks.

In any case, Mujde is the building of a story one sentence at a time. The Guslar brought out a rock the size of a man’s fist. But this was no ordinary stone. It was what remained of a once larger crystal type structure that had been worked by chisel, sand, and polish so that it was smooth and shaped like the body of a fish, minus the tail fins. The stone was to be tossed about those present at the fire. Each time you held the stone you were to add one sentence to the story. If you dropped the rock, then you were out and could contribute no more. The crystal stone played with the light from the fire as it passed silently threw the air from man to man. It would glow a changing assortment of colors and so was easily traced through the dark night of our forest camp.

We played a few rounds that night and the stories were whimsical nonsense but they brought laughter to the group. One of the stories however seemed to have been put together with meaning. Guslar held the stone to start and it went like this:

Guslar: There once was a King, perfect and true.

Kimeril: His subjects were many and his lands vast.

Brother1: The power of this King was unsurpassed.

Guslar: His great throne was white; his judgments were right.

Crill: His laws were for good.

Kimeril: But they were misunderstood.

Billaad: There came one who lied.

Brother2: He said the King was not fare; did not care.

Grip: He said the law was a joke.

Billaad: He said don’t you want to be happy?

Crill: He said don’t get on your knees; do what you please.

Grip: Sadly the people listened.

Kimeril: They burned the King’s law.

Brother1: They scorned his judgments.

Brother2: They betrayed one another; sons, wives, brothers.

Kimeril: It seemed all was lost and the kingdom rewend.

Guslar: The King sent prophets to warn his subjects.

Crill: They would not listen.

Guslar: Chastening to instruct the people.

Billaad: They would not be corrected.

Grip: Were the people and kingdom so cherished by the King lost to the destruction of their own selfish ways?

At this point grip tosses the stone to Kimeril. It is a poor toss however and my dad can only get his finger tips on it and the stone is deflected right into the lap of Tiras. He has been sitting with us around the fire most of the evening and all during this story. It had been as unspoken rule that we would not toss the stone to him as he could not add a sentence to the tale and so doing would only bring him embarrassment. His quick reflexes reacted to the errant object and he snatched it cleanly form the air with one hand before, I am sure, he knew what he was doing.

Everyone was silent now. The pause lasted so long. Billaad and I looked at one another, gave our shoulders a slight shrug and made faces as it to say; what can he do? The other men made blank stairs at the ground, the fire or each other in an effort to escape the discomfort of the situation; all except Kimeril. He gazed into Tiras’s eyes with a hopeful expectation. His mouth hung slightly open and there was a hint of a smile on his mouth. I can remember thinking: “What is he waiting for? Does he actually think he is going to say something?”

It was a long time. Tiras would look at the rock in his hand and then at the men. He did this a few times. I wanted the Guslar to say something funny or break into some delivery that would end this awkwardness. I mean would we not speak again that night? Finally the Guslar shifted in his seat and opened his mouth to speak; but, at that very moment with my dad’s expectant eyes still on him Tiras burst to a standing position with his eyes lifted up above us to the canopy of tree limbs and beyond. Then he pointed with up stretched arm and extended finger as he lowered his gaze upon us at the fire. H started to speak. But it was not the grunts and stammer of a futile attempt to use our language. It was a fluent lament uttered in verse unrecognizable to us all, even the Guslar. It must have been first tongue. I had never heard anyone speak it before. It had a beautiful sound to it; kind a rhythmical.

Anyway Tiras went on for a bit, still pointing up while looking at us. Then he spoke for a while pointing up while looking at the rock in the other hand. Then he spoke with a kind of thunder in his voice as he brought his raised hand down and pointed at the rock. He then spoke softly as he cupped the rock in both hands and peered into its shape. He then spoke with anger in his voice and tears in his eyes as he continued to hold the cupped rock in his hand yet lifting it up a bit. He stared each of us down during this part of his display. The final part of his speech was softer but still tearful. He walked over to the fire and as he closed he lower the stone and then dropped it in the fire.

Tiras walked a ways off from the fire and the men and it was quiet again. Kimeril then got up and walked over and put his arm around his father. As we watched the crystal now in the fire glow a dark red, Billaad announced: “Now that was defiantly more than one sentence.” His statement and the quiet laughter that fallowed relieved the tension and the evening broke up into small talk, prayer, and good nights. I could here Tiras and Kimeril humming the tune to the bedtime song my dad sang to me as a kid. I determined to ask him about that in the morning.

The next day it rained. It was a pretty stiff rain too. Now I like fishing, but not in the rain. Most of the men were undaunted. They all spent at least part of the day angling for a catch.

Billaad and I spent the day in the tented shelters we had constructed for just such an occasion. We did not get a lot of rain but this was the season for it. Fortunate for our quest to understand the flood, the Guslar spent most of the day in the shelter as well. We went over to him as he sat working intently on some small object he was constructing out of this and that.

“What are you doing?” Asked Billaad. “I am making a lure to help catch the fish.” Responded the Guslar. “What’s a lure?” “Well it is supposed to look like an insect that has fallen in the water.” “Oh I get it. It attracts the fish so you can catch them.” “Correct young Billaad. You are an intelligent boy.”

“Crill. What is it you are pondering? The Guslar noticed I was looking out into the rain as it fell steadily. “I am wondering sir if this is the type of rain that flooded the earth when Noah built the ark. It is coming down pretty hard.” “The rain of the flood was a good bit harder yet but most of the water came when vast underground caverns full of water burst open. Much of the surface of the earth crumbled and the waters prevailed over it. It rained for forty days but the water prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.” “How do you know all this; even the number of days?” Billaad was somewhat skeptical. “I’ve spoken with Noah himself on the subject. He told me these things and more.” “You talked to Noah?” Now I was skeptical. “Nobody around here has even seen Noah since before the big confusion. Anyway he speaks the first tongue like Tiras. How could you understand him?”

“I knew Noah before the great confusion; before the tower. I knew him on the journey from the ark. My name is Elam, first born of Shem, eldest son of Noah. Noah spoke these things to me as we sojourned from the ark.” “Did you ever see the ark?” I asked. “No, my first memories are of the highlands [name] above the great plain of the two rivers.” “Let’s get back to the water. You say it prevailed 15 cubits above the tallest mountains. My uncles say that there are mountains where they are from that touch the sky. How could the water have been that high?” “Remember now Billaad, the mountains that exist now did not exist before the flood. In fact, most of the mountains your uncles are talking about did not even exist until recently. When I lived on the highlands as a small boy the mountains were nothing like they were on the journey through them after the great confusion. They must have formed between the end of the flood and the confusion.” “How did they form?” “That; I can’t tell you. All I can tell you is that they formed sometime in my lifetime.”

“What happened to all the water?” Billaad said unrelentingly. “Where do you suppose it went Billaad?” The Guslar sat back pausing in his work on the lure and put one hand on his knee and turned his head to one side. “I don’t know!” Snapped Billaad. “I don’t even know that it was ever here. You’re the one saying there was so much water. All I am asking is: If it was here and covered everything by 15 cubits, then where did it go? Did it just disappear?” One of Billaad’s uncles was in from the rain and overheard Billaad’s complaints. “Billaad!” He scolded. “you show respect when talking to your elders.” “I am sorry Mr. Guslar. I did not mean to be disrespectful. It is only that I hear all these different stories about who God is, where we came from, and how the world was formed. I get frustrated. I don’t know what to believe. I want to believe what you say about God and the flood but the part about all this water makes no sense to me.” “I forgive you Billaad.” The Guslar put his fist on his heart as he responded.

“Maybe the water went back into the caverns after the 150 days?” I posed. “Could be Crill, but the men who were there said that the water burst out of the caverns. This describes destructive forces over most of the surface of the earth. Say you take a bottle from your mom’s kitchen and fill it with water. If you pour the water out in to a large basin, then the water can be drained back it; but, if you burst the bottle open, then the water would explode out and the bottle would be destroyed; broken into pieces. Instead of draining back into the bottle the water would prevail over the broken pieces of the bottle in the basin.” “But that leaves us back to not having anywhere for the water to go.” Billaad moaned discouraged.

“What if it is still here?” Uncle interjected. “Interesting, what makes you say that uncle?” “Well, look out side.” He said. “There is quite a bit of water coming down from the clouds. How much is up there I wonder?” “This is a good point. Some, we don’t know how much, is in the clouds.” “The Sea of Ashkenaz holds a lot of water.” I added. “Yes, and how many seas are there in the world and how big are they?” “We don’t know any of that?” Billaad protested. “True but we do know that the Sea of Ashkenaz is not the only one and it is not the biggest. Both the Great Sea and the Caspian are much larger.” “Well then, if the water from the flood is in the seas then these low places must not have existed at the time of the flood.” Uncle concluded. “Correct! And, since the low places must have formed after the flood and the mountains formed also after the flood, then they must have formed at he same time and perhaps as a result of the same set of forces.” The Guslar was very exited now.

All of a sudden an idea came to me and I became exited with the Guslar. “Hey, each spring when I get a new matrass it is flat. The first few nights I notice that when I lie down on it some spots squish down easy and some squish down with more difficulty. Suppose after the flood the earth was like that and the water went to the places that squished down easy; would not that make the low places we see now in the seas?”

“Great idea Crill! I believe it would. Now, as you make the low place in your mattress, what happens to the rest of the mattress?” “It raises up.” “Yes, so at the end of the flood the earth squished down more in some spots. The water rushed to those spots making the seas. At the same time the earth’s surface was pushed up in other spots making the mountains. This must have been going on for the rest of the year that Noah was on the ark. This would have make the highlands of Ararat and the sea of Askenaz.”

“It could have gone on a long time afterward too. It could have made deeper seas and the mountains that touch the sky.” I added. Billaad was just staring down at the ground playing with his lips with the tips of his fingers. “Did you have any other questions Billaad?” Asked the Gusler. “No…, no not right now.” “I have one.” “What is it Crill?” “What did you make of the end of the story that Tiras gave last night?” We all had a bit of a snicker on our face with that question. Billaad could not help himself and let out a gafaa.

“It’s hard to say Crill. It seems to me, based on his gestures, that the King himself came down from his thrown and made some sort of ultimate sacrifice so that the people would be saved from themselves. But that is just a guess.” “But he could not have even known what the story was about.” “He should not have been able to I agree. But it seemed like he did. Hey, by the way, have a look at this.” The Guslar had dragged the crystal out of the embers with a long stick and washed it off. It was white as snow. All the varied discolorations were gone and it was solid white. “What happened to it!” I exclaimed. “I don’t know Crill, but passing through the fire seems to have completely changed the stone.” Responded the Guslar.

What About the Ark?

2011-12-21T16:24:00.001-05:00

Billaad and I slept long and hard that night. When we woke up we were surprised to find that the men had decided we all would stay a whole day at this sight. We would rest and fish and give the horses a break. One of them seemed a bit lame. Grip thought a day would help it recover. It’s funny. With all Grip knew and could figure out you might pick him to be your leader. But as smart as he was, decision time was never a comfortable moment for him. In fact it was always more then a moment. He was one to analyze analyze and analyze and never act. My dad was a man of action. Grip would say: That’s the kind of man you need as a leader; the one who can decide.

After breakfast Billaad and I found Grip mixing a bunch of barriers together with a stick. He had a feather and an old piece of animal hide as well. “What are you doing Grip?” Billaad asked as he set down on the ground next to Grip who was sitting against a tree. “Well, I am trying to devise a system of characters we could use to represent the words we use as we speak to each other.” “Why?” I asked. “Suppose you want to tell your uncle Macedon something; something that is important and complicated. It needs explaining. But, you can’t go and see him; for whatever reason. If you could record your words using these characters painted in these colored barriers on this animal skin, then you could send the skin with the message to your uncle and he would then know the important thing.” “Couldn’t Crill just tell me and then I could go and tell Macedon?” “Sure but you might not remember it right. This is a complicated message and even one item out of place would destroy its meaning.” “What if Macedon came to me?” “Macedon is very busy what with leading his village and all. Do you think he has the time to travel all the way here to receive the message?” Kimeril leads a village and we are all having a swell time tromping around the woods with him and we are not looking for anything; except fish. But we have those at our village?” Billaad had a way of rambling on. “If it takes so much time to lead a village how can Kimeril take days to look for something we already have at our village?”

“Ok, ok, how about I put away the barriers and hide and you guys tell me what you are up to?” Grip rubbed his scalp back and forth with both hands as he spoke these words and then stowed his work. I can only guess that we convinced him his new invention was unnecessary.

Billaad then just spit it out: “We want to know how Noah got all the animals onto one boat.” “Why? Do you think that is a huge problem for God?” We looked at each other for a moment and then turned back to Grip and spoke in unison: “Yea, there are a lot of different kinds of animals.” Then Grip asked some things we had not thought to ask. “”So, are you telling me that the God who created all the kinds of animals would not know to tell Noah and his sons to build a boat big enough to hold two of each kind?” Before we could respond he continued.

How big was the boat? How many kinds are there? How much room does each kind require? How big were the ones he took, I mean did he take baby animals, young animals, or adult animals? How much food do they need to survive? How long were they on the ark?

I jumped in here: “The Guslar said they were on the ark for over a year!” “Alright, good, can you answer any of the other questions?” We could not. “Ok then before we can conclude this as a huge problem for God, let’s get an idea of what sort of problem we have here. Then we will see if God, the Almighty, could have handled it.”

Grip began:

The account of the flood and the ark as I heard from my father and he from his tells us that the ark was as tall as one of these very large trees or 30 cubits. It was 50 cubits high and 300 cubits long. So, if the ark were the shape of a box then its volume or amount of space it took up, would have been 450,000 cubic cubits. But of course, the ark was probably not in the shape of a box. The sides would have been curved and the ends tapered at least to some degree. Also, they would have lost some space due to the inner construction of floors, it had three levels, walls, and supports. We will have to make a guess at how much space in the boat was lost due to these factors. Let’s say that they lost a third of the total rectangular volume due to the factors mentioned. So, now they have 300,000 cubic cubits. How much is that? Well, that would be box 67 cubits high, 67 cubits wide, and 67 cubits long. Yea, that’s kinda big.

Tiras told your dad, before the tower mind you, that there were about 12,000 kinds of animals on the ark. Now, it might seem that there might be more than that; just think about how many different types of birds there are. But, there all birds right? Of course they are all birds. Some of the types of birds are very similar. Some are quite different. I think we can all agree that some of the different types are the same “kind”, say ducks and some of the different types might in fact be different kinds of animals. With this in mind, 12,000 kinds seems reasonable.

This would give the average pair of animals a space of 25 cubic cubits. Now, if we allow 5 of those to store food, water, and hay for the pair, then the average pair would get a space that was 2x2.5x4. If we take a ram and a ewe as the average pair, this space seems ample for their needs.

“Wait a minute!”; Billaad had a question. “Five cubic cubits does not seem like enough to store enough food and water to last a year for two animals. I think that is a problem.” “Billaad, do you see bear during the season of white?” This question was Grip’s retort. “Well, no, not really, maybe once in a great while. What does ..” Grip jumped back in here with: “Where are they then in the season of white?” Billaad replied, “Well, my dad told me that they go into a cave and go into a deep sleep for long periods of time because there isn’t enough food during that time.” “Did you know that all animals are capable of these long periods of deep sleep?” Grip really seemed to be enjoying the back and forth. “No, really? All animals?” Billaad was starting to see where Grip was going with his questions. “Yes boys, and that is just what the animals on the ark did. They went into a deep sleep for long periods of time during the year on the ark. They were in dark cozy spaces and they just slept the time away. They did not need much to eat or drink. They did not need much care at all.

“So, you can see that the size of the boat described by the Guslar, the number of kinds of animals that exist and the amount of food needed for the reported time all lead us to conclude that the ark was big enough for the job assigned to it. Really not a problem at all for the Creator.”

“Ok, but, how did Noah get all the kinds to the ark?” “Why? Do you think that is a huge problem for God?” Grip was having some fun with us now. “How long was it after Noah was warned that the flood occurred? Would animals have been afraid and run from Noah and his sons? Has God no say over the affairs of His creation?” “We don’t know these things; that is why we ask?”

“Let me ask you: Do you like watermelons?” Grip queried. “Yes.” Was our reply. “Well, how do you get watermelons?” “They grow in the garden.” “How did you get the plants in the garden?” “We planted a seed.” “Is that all? How does the seed grow into the plant and how does the plant grow the melon?” We did not know. “Do you think it is easier for God to get a couple animals in a boat or to grow melons from a seed?” “Animals in a boat I guess.” I said. “But the melon from a seed is natural. It happens all the time. How often do you see a deer just walk into a boat because some old guy with a beard tells it to?” “Yea, my dad said that God put the fear and dread of man into the animals. They would run away from Noah and the boat not go into it.”

“You both are correct. Suppose, “… And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female. Of fowls after their dind, and of cattle after their kind, of every creeping thing of the earth after his kind, two of every sort shall come unto thee, to keep them alive.” It is not now the design of God that animals would just go into the ark at the beckoning of man. Now they would have to be trapped or trained to do such a thing. Crill when did your dad say that God put the dread of man in the heart of the animals?” “He did not say.” “Well, what did the Guslar say was the relationship between animals and man before the flood?” “He said they were at peace.” “Would we have been at peace if man was going around killing and eating animals? Would they dread us if there was peace?” “No, I guess not.” “It was after the flood that God gave the animals as meat to us. That is why they dread us now. That is why we would have to work hard to get them in a boat now. But before the flood, when there was peace between man and animals it would have been nothing for Noah to get them in the boat. It would have been as natural as planting a seed in the garden, watering it, taking care of it, and watching it grow. In fact Noah probably just watched the animals go on the ark and then tended to their needs.”

“Wow, when you put it like that it sounds so easy.” Billaad proclaimed. “I don’t know about easy. Noah and his family had to tend to many animals for over a year. I would not say easy. But I would say that, with God’s provision, it was not a huge problem.”

“There you guys are!” My father had approached us from the river. “I have been looking for you; it’s time to fish. Who’s ready?” Billaad and I sprang up with excitement as we both shouted; “I am!” And, we ran down to the river.

That night after dinner we packed up our gear so that all we had to do in the morning was roll up our beds, have a bite for breakfast and load up the horses before we headed up river again deeper into the forest. It was a great night under the stars. We could see them through the gap in the canopy made by the breadth of the river. My roll was next to my dad’s. Billaad’s was in between his uncles’. My dad and I talked for some time before I fell asleep. We talked about the stars. We talked about the trip. He even admitted that the Guslar and Grip were probably right about the flood. We talked about grandpa. I had not realized before that night how much my dad respected and admired his dad. He said that if it had not been for Tiras many more would have died at the Istranca Daglar.

I could not get any more details about the Istranca Daglar that night. None of them would ever talk about it. All I ever found out was that Billaad’s grandfather Ashkenaz betrayed our whole family and his own three sons that went with us. We talked about mom and my baby brother Nike. To hear my dad talk it’s as though Nike thinks more of me than anyone else in the world. I don’t know about that but we do have good times together. I told my dad that I loved him and mom and Nike and our whole family. And then I told my dad that I loved him again and I thanked him for taking me on the fishing trip. He did not have to you know. I am sure it would have been an easier more relaxing trip without a 12-year-old kid to worry about. He told me he loved me. He told me that having me with him was the best part of the trip and he would not even have wanted to go without me. But he also told me that there was one who loved me more than he did. I asked him who that was. He said that father God loved me more than any human could and that I should always trust in and look to Him in good times and in troubles. We prayed together. We both cried a little too but it was ok; everyone else was asleep.

Gone Fishing

2011-11-26T18:34:00.001-05:00

One day Tiras, Kimeril, Grip, Billaad’s two uncles, Billaad, and the Guslar all went up river on a fishing expedition. Here we, my cousin and I, thought to have a perfect opportunity to probe both Grip and the Guslar for specific details regarding our concerns. Our journey began with praises to God for the opportunity and the good word we had received from Macedon’s village that Macedon and the village itself were all healing well and on the way to full recovery. It was requested that God would accompany us giving His protection and guidance.

The plan was to walk two days up stream, find a nice location and camp for four or five days before returning home. The master mind of the whole operation was Grip. He had noticed that my father had been under a great deal of strain as of late what with the continued building and now the added burden of organizing defenses. He believed that a few days away from these projects, which were well in hand, would do my father good.

Grip sold the trip to my dad under the gize that it would be a good reconnaissance mission in order to know more about our northern boundary. “As long as we are thinking of defense; we might as well begin to map out these surroundings north.

We started out early on a beautiful summer morning. My mom was smiling and would not stop fussing with my hair and clothes as we said our farewells. Be sure to do this and oh don’t do that and “Oh my goodness do you have the medicine balm I made for you?” “Do you mean the stuff that reeks? Yes, I have it.” She was very excited but also she seemed nervous. There were even a few tears rolling down her face. I said to her; “Are you going to be alright Mom?” “Yes don’t worry about me. I will be fine. I am going to miss you a lot.” She answered with more smiles and wiping away the tears from her eyes. “Not as much as I mill miss you. I don’t think any of these tough guys know how to cook.” My comment was met by a great swell of laughter from the large group of people who had gathered to see us off. My mom then kissed my forehead and said “I am so proud of you my little man. Go and show these old farts a thing or two about fishing.” “I love you mom.” “I love you too Crill!” “I will see you in a few days mom.” “I will be here son.”

We walked steady all that first day. The surroundings were pretty familiar to the men but Billaad and I tried to take it all in. We had spent our whole lives just a stones throw from the sea. So, many of the sights and sounds that surrounded us were new and it was very exciting.

Although it was a warm sunny day the dense canopy of the thick forest so hindered the light as do the thick dark clouds of the storm. We could see well enough of our immediate surroundings, a hundred cubits [adjust distance] or so round about but further than that the shadows prevailed and the forest took on a dark and mysterious character. This was enough to motivate Billaad and I to keep up with the pace of the men without having to be told. The air was cool at the forest floor. It was like the leaves and pines were soaking up the heat of the sun like the bread soaks up the milk when poured over it. I think that if we would not have been exerting ourselves so, it would have been down right chilly. Never did we separate ourselves so far from the river that we could not hear its waters against the rocks.

We saw many different animals that first day. Some were familiar to us, the dear, the fox, the bear. Some were not so familiar. Some were mere shadows visible only for a moment before darting back into the depth of the concealing forest at the boundary of our field of view. I must admit to you that I was a little frightened by these aberrations dancing in and out of the edge of darkness. The men did not seem to be worried at all.

My dad could see that I was a little nervous. He came over and walked alongside me. He said; “What troubles you Crill?” I said, “Well every once and a while I notice something moving about into the dark perimeter around us. What sorts of things are out there, out there in the dark?” “Look Crill, there are many animals in the forest. What always happens when we come up upon them?” “They move off.” I replied. “Some of them are very big, like the bear, why do they move off?” “They fear us and they dread us.” “Why?” “God put it in their heart. They fear us because they know we have dominion over them; we are superior. They have respect for our God given position in creation. They dread us because they have been given to us by God as meat. This combination of respect for our capabilities and despair over our motives drives them away.” “But they don’t always run off. Sometimes they attach and kill us.” I raised my hands with fingers out like claws and fained a lunge at my dad with this comment. “Yes son, but again, this is due to fear and dread. When the animal feels threatened and cornered they can lash out. That is why we move slowly and deliberately through the forest. And that is why we move loudly. We want them to know we are here, what direction we are heading, and at what speed. This way they won’t feel the need to fight us; they will simply get out of the way. That is what you are seeing in the shadows; the animals getting out of our way.”

“What if they did want to attach? How would I know? What should I do?” “Well, watch the horses and listen for the dogs.” We had a number of horses with us carrying supplies and Billaad’s dog and Grip’s dog? “If the horses are getting uneasy and the dogs start to snarl, then trouble is a foot. You should get close to me and fast as you can. We have brought the sward and bow to protect us in case of attach. Do you understand?” “Yes dad.” “Good.”

Late in the day and on one of our water breaks near the riverbank, Grip suggested we make camp for the night. “This looks like a good spot and it will take some time to set up.” Grip always made sense. We worked hard to set up our camp and build the fire. My dad, Ballad and I were in charge of catching diner. While the others finished the camp, we fished a nearby hole with the five-pronged spear. We first suspended the firebox over the surface of the water to draw the fish and then my dad thrust the spear into the water in an attempt to impale the fish on one of the prongs. If we did not catch anything it would be cured meat and dried veggies [word] for diner. The three of us met with limited but sufficient success; six fish. It was a good day and a great night around the fire. Billaad and I were with the men sitting around the fire eating the fish we caught and listening to the stories of yesterday. We could not have been happier.

Hit Your Knees

2011-07-23T17:58:00.000-04:00

When we got back it was pretty late. I had to rush to finish chores and we wolfed down the evening meal in order to head straight to the bon fire to hear the Guslar’s song. When we got there it was already time to start. They waited for us. They would not start without my dad. My uncles were there and a soft music filled the background. The Guslar opened that evening’s song with a genealogy:
Adam God formed from the dust
begat Seth for Abel slain unjust
begat Enos men began to call
begat Cainan o the Lord’s name, save from the fall
begat Megalaleel born 395
begat Jared who’s son was taken alive
begat Enoch walked with God
begat Mehtuseluh by water saw the rod
begat Lamech perfect number of his years
begat Noah this same to comfort tears
begat Jepheth whom God shall enlarge
begat Tiras prince of Shinar
begat Rushash, Nbenib, Macedon, Kimeril, …
begat Crill, Nikelus, Thracian, …

It was fun hearing my name as part of the song. Billaad looked over at me with mouth and eyes open wide. And we both laughed in surprise. The next part of the song was very interesting; scary even. The Guslar started to give specific details about the flood, the ark, and how it was built. Here is his report as best I can recall it.

Guslar:

The earth of ancient times was mostly green. The whole of it was covered by every kind of fruit bearing tree, seed bearing plant, and all of the good green vegetation of the creation. Food was abundant. Although it was not easily garnished after the fall for thorn and thistle were a constant hindrance to man. Only by hard work and terry (sweet of thy face) was it procured. There were many small seas and lakes and God had not caused it to rain upon the earth; but, there went up a mist from the earth and it watered the whole face of the ground. There were no great mountains as in the land of Ararat today.

There were rivers but these sprang from the earth; they were parted by the higher regions such as the land of Havilah, Ethiopia, and Assyria; their constant flow would run its set course over the land and then return to the caverns of the deep. These were great underground store houses of water. For God had proclaimed:

“The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. For I have founded it upon the seas and established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in His Holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive the blessing form the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.”

The animals had no fear of man as the herbs of the field and the fruit of the vine were given to man as food.

It was at this time a league of angles fell from God’s presence. The one named Lucifer and his minions had lifted themselves up saying “I will be like the most High!” These sons of God were cast out of heaven where they refused their proper domain. They saw the beauty of the daughters of men. So, they took them of all that they choose. And these same bore children to them, who became mighty men, which were of old, men of renown. And the Lord said; “My Spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh; yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.” And the Lord said; “I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them.

There was a man named Noah. He was just and perfect in his generations. And Noah walked with God. And God said:

"And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth. Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. And this is the fashion which thou shalt make it of: The length of the ark shall be three hundred cubits, the breadth of it fifty cubits, and the height of it thirty cubits. A window shalt thou make to the ark, and in a cubit shalt thou finish it above; and the door of the ark shalt thou set in the side thereof; with lower, second, and third stories shalt thou make it. And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die. But with thee will I establish my covenant; and thou shalt come into the ark, thou, and thy sons, and thy wife, and thy sons' wives with thee. And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female. Of fowls after their kind, and of cattle after their kind, of every creeping thing of the earth after his kind, two of every sort shall come unto thee, to keep them alive. And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten, and thou shalt gather it to thee; and it shall be for food for thee, and for them. Thus did Noah; according to all that God commanded him, so did he. And the LORD said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation."

As you can imagine Noah and his family met with a great deal of ridicule hurled at them by the people living at that time. You see no one else had had the visitation from God that Noah had had. No one else received the warning of a great deluge. It had never rained and the great fountains of the deep were hidden from man’s detection.

In the days that were before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark. And knew not until the flood came, and took them all away.

“What of peril that awaits us?” This came from the crowd; some ways behind where my family was sitting. It was load enough that the Guslar heard it but there was no disturbance in the audience griped by the orators song. The Guslar continued; “And then it happened: the fountains of the deep broke open at once and across the whole world. The very ground they walked on was cracked , crumbled and then consumed by the water below it. Invaded from below by the explosive water itself the whole surface of the earth was becoming submerged; lost in an angry sea. If this were not enough the waters attach quickly came on another front. It began to rain down from heaven not in a mild mist as it had since creation but in torrents of wind driven pellets of water.”

“What of the impending attach on our village from the water? Why do we listen to fanciful stories of floods when a real menace awaits us from the eastern sea?” This time the interruption was loader and the Guslar’s hold on us was broken by these fearful utterings.

“Well friend, what fear has gripped you so that you would break into our meeting?” The Guslar stepped closer to the front of the stage, lowered his posture and held out his hands in front of himself as he said these words. He looked to the back of the gathering for a response, as did many others. It was not at all clear who had spoken.

There being no answer to the Guslar’s invitation, my father rose and walked calmly to the stage. This brought a low but steady murmur to the crowd. After a few short words in private to the Guslar my dad turned to the audience and raised up his hands as to quiet them. They responded well and he began to speak.

“As many of you know two of my brothers, Rushash and Benib, have made the journey to us from Macedon’s village. They have come to us with disparaging news. The people of Magog have attached BUT not destroyed the village. Macedon, while injured, LIVES! The details of this attach I will allow my brothers to speak to so as there will be no question of authenticity. I will also take this opportunity to share that we have found some disturbing tracks along the nearby shorelines, which we continue to investigate.

I want everyone to know that we have begun to and will continue to make every preparation for a possible attach from the people of Magog. We can make weapons and plans but I tell you the truth: On our own we are no match for Gog.”

Someone shouts, “To whom can we appeal? You say yourself that Macedone has already been weakened and no other city is so close, so strong, and so loyal to give us aid. From what tribe do you suggest we seek aid?”

Another shoots out: “What if we appeal to Gog himself? Perhaps he would be appeased by an offer of tribute?” Another still: “You coward! Surrender our daughters so the likes of you would be saved? I will have none of that talk.” I’m guessing this last contributor was Tuskin.

“FRIENDS!” My father now puts a stop to all the emotional outbursts. “We have just been reminded of the awesome power of our God. The Guslar has also reminded us of the mercy and love with which God can act on behalf of His favored ones. Since we have no intension of surrendering one coin, one cubit, nor one child to Gog and we understand we have not the physical resources to repel him, then we must fall to our knees and ask for God’s hand to prevail. We must humble ourselves before a Holy God not only tonight but also in the days, weeks, and months ahead. We must decide to live for Him in each second He gives us or die apart from Him. Gog is only one of many fearsome trials that lay ahead for this village. These tails of the Guslar’s are not mere fanciful rhyme; they are the truthful record of our only hope in this world of danger. I want you all to join me now as we pray and honor our loving creator.”

My dad then fell to his knees, lowered his chin to his chest, lifted his hands and began to pray. At first it was just a few but by the time he had finished the entire town was on their knees. After he closed we all got up and my dad said to the town; “Thank you. Thank you for joining with me in praise of our Father. Now, before we sing the song of thanks the Guslar taught us; does anyone have any Good News to share that might help us sleep a little better tonight?”

There was a pause and it looked like his request would go unanswered when Billaad raised his voice and said, “I do!” This was met with some murmurs and a good bit of muffled laughter from the crowd but my father walked over to him and got down on one knee looked him in the face and said; “What is it Billaad?” “We saw them leaving.” “What’s that? You saw who leaving?” “Crill and I, we saw Gog and his men hightailing it back to the east out on the sea just today.” My dad turned and looked at me, some 5 cubits away. I gestured my concurrence. I said out loud, “Sails with a great hawk on them.”

“That’s it.” Said the Guslar. “The marauders have a great hawk embroidered on the main sail of there small but fast attach boats.” The Guslar’s confirmation sent a buzz of excitement through the crowd. My dad sent us all back to our homes with these words: “This is good news but remember to continue to call upon the Lord to be with us where the threat of the Magog continues.”

In the days that followed spirits were high among the people in my village. Long houses continued to be constructed. Crops were still cultivated. Fishing nets were still cast. And, children continued to do their chores. The Guslar stayed on and continued to treat us with his rhymes once every few nights.

In addition to our normal activities preparations were made to defend our village against attach. Also, meetings were regularly organized to gather at the alter of God and pray for His divine intervention and protection form Gog. Not only that but the villagers began to pray that God would help us with all sorts of burdens and troubles. There was even talk of our little settlement being dedicated in service to Him. It was almost like the threat of Gog had brought us all closer to each other and closer to God at the same time. However, the particulars of the flood continued to bother Billaad and me.

Face Stone

2011-07-21T20:49:00.001-04:00

The next morning I noticed that my eyes were very heavy. Every so often I would become aware of all the clamor about the village and indeed present in the interior of our long house. However, it was not until the sun was high enough in the sky to cast a direct beam through the slat window and onto my face that I was finally able to crank them open and great the day.

As I lay on my back on the top bunk reasoning that I had been aloud to sleep past my time because of the commotion and late hour of the previous day, I noticed on the ceiling of the boys’ dorm a large brown spider. She was attending to her clutch of eggs. The sight pleased me as it meant more allies in our endless battle of the bugs.

My wandering thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Billaad’s voice as he made inquiry of me to my mother. He was anxious to see me and I was eager to hear more of his discussions with the old man Tiras. Now when I say old take causion not to eggagerate the implication. The physical appearance and condition of our grandfather, although he had been living far longer then any other living soul we knew or had encountered, was comparable to my fathers. So much so that a stranger might even mistake Kimeril as the older brother of the two [you must settle this old issue].

Mother came into my room to announce Billaad’s arrival. Before she could utter a word I jetted past her with a quick “hi mom!” and was half way down the hall before she could reply “Well good morning Crill; be back for dinner!”

I met my cousin in the great room with a brisk “Let’s go!” We were out the door and on our way to the lake before anyone could hinder us. “We got company.” “At your house?” “Yea.” “I know.” “How do you know?” “They were over last night.” “Our uncles?” “Yea, and Grandpa and the Guslar too.” “What happened? What did they say?” “I don’t know.” “What! You don’t know! You don’t know! What were you doing; playing blocks with the little kids?” “Not blocks, we were pretending to live on the ark during the great flood that the Guslar told us of in his stories.” “Yea but don’t you care what they said?” “Sure I care, but I had no choice. I was not allowed near them.” “Yea, I understand but darn it all.”

We were at the lake now. The Sea of Ashkenaz was so big and so beautiful. It looked like the land just stopped for as far as we could see to the left and to the right of us; and the water just went on forever. My dad said that the land surrounded the water and that we had walked around part of its shore to build Macedon’s village and then walked more of its shore to come to ours. I asked him how he knew that we were walking around a lake surrounded by land and not say on land surrounded by water. He said it was on account of the sun and where it rose and were it set.

My dad was smart. He also told me the whole world was round like a ball. To be honest, I never really got that because it sure looked flat and how would the water stay on it if it were round. He had answers for all my questions but it was still a hard one to get. He told me that I can know the world is round because God said it:

“Have ye not known? Have ye not heard? Hath it not been told you from the beginning? Have ye not understood from the foundations of the earth? It is I that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in: That bringeth the princes to nothing; I maketh the judges of the earth as vanity. Yea, they shall not be planted; yea, they shall not be sown: yea, their stock shall not take root in the earth: and I shall also blow upon them, and they shall wither, and the whirlwind shall take them away as stubble. To whom then will ye liken me, or shall I be equal?” Saith the Holy One.

I asked him how he knew God said all that. He said that his father Tiras told him when he was a boy. I asked him how Tiras knew. He told me that his father Jepheth told him when Tiras was a boy. I asked him how Jepheth knew. He told me that Jepheth’s father Noah told him. When I asked him how Noah knew Kimeril just told me plain; “Noah talks directly with God.”

Billaad and I arrived at the “face-stone”. It was actually a large bolder somewhat buried in the sand and the one side of it resembled the profile of a face. The two of us would often come here for serious private discussions on important matters, like the proper techniques of spitting or belching. Also, we would talk about our families, lives, and feelings about stuff. This was a place where we were totally truthful and forthcoming on whatever topic was on our hearts, face to face.

We choose the customary footholds as we scaled the large rock (10 cubits high). Being the older, I was the first to ascend. Once atop we were quick to pull from a crevice the stash of trinkets we kept hidden there. We had a pipe, …, and the most prized of all the dragons tooth. The tooth was given to Billaad by my father. He told us that he and Billaad’s father killed the beast in the Istranca Daglar. They ripped the tooth from its mouth and stuffed it in my dad’s pack. On the way back Baashard fell to his death in the tricky terrain. The rest of the party could not reach the body without risking more lives. So, they returned to the camp and presented Billaad with the trophy of his father’s bravery. Kimeril told us both regularly that: “We could not have crossed the pass safely if it were not for the bravery of Baashard in defeating the beast that guarded it.”

After we had admired our collection for the customary period of time, Billaad pulled from his blouse a small object wrapped in cloth. It was the boat Grandpa had widdled. Narrow and as long as my hand I held it close to my face for inspection. Tilting it this way and that while I slowly turned the object with my fingers, I spoke not a word. Billaad watched intently as I went over every aspect of its surface; visually and tactically.

It looked like a boot I guess; steep curves rising from the rib of its bottom, flat deck, cabin on deck and so forth. However; there were some curious deletions and conspicuous additions that caught my attention. There was no visible means of propulsion (ors; sails) and no system of navigation (wheel; rutters). Most curious was the large square hole in the bottom. It was two-thirds the width of the vessel and two-thirds the height with four small corner vents through the deck. “What is this hole for?” I asked my cousin. “How should I know.” He replied. “I thought maybe grandpa told you.” “He can’t talk to us, remember?” Billaad rebutted followed by some grunting noises meant to mock Tiras’s attempts to communicate. It was not so much as we made fun of him in this way; we were just venting our frustrations.

After a pause; “So, the Guslar said Noah put all the animals on a boat to protect them from the flood and Grandpa is trying to tell us this is what the boat looked like?” I tried to confirm with Billaad. “That’s what I got out of it.” He replied. “But that’s dumb; how is he supposed to fit two of all the animals there are on one boat; it does not make any sense!” I proclaimed. “Did you ask your dad about it?” “Yea, he said he was not sure one way or the other.” “What about Grip, now if there is a guy who can figure out how to fit all the animals on one boat, that’s the guy to do it.” Billaad stood as he finished his suggestion and tossed a stone out into the water.

“Holy crap!” Billaad burst out. “What is it!” I asked. “Look!” Billaad pointed out on the water at a large number of small boats. They were headed full sail toward the sunrise. We quickly ducked down flat on the stone so as not to be seen. We so young at the time were unaware of the fact that the distance between us and the boat was far too great as to let us be distinguished apart from the face stone by who ever was on the boats. We did not know what the boats were for nor who was on them. We did know they were not any kind of fishing boat we ever saw and they were in some hurry to get somewhere. “I wonder if it’s Gog?” That just blurted out of me. “Gog? Why would you think that? He has never bothered us before. Did you hear something? Is that what they were talking about at your house last night?” Billaad pressed. “What do you mean? What would I hear? I told you that I did not know what they talked of last night.” I evaded his question. I told my dad that I would not tell anyone about the track in the sand.

“Crill, this is the face-stone remember? We tell each other everything here. I am asking you plain: What did you find out about Gog?” Billaad pressed harder. He was right. I was obligated to tell him. Our pact was long running and deeply rooted between us. Did I really promise my dad that I would not tell anyone or did I just agree that was the best plan. Up there on that presapass I would plunge into deception or dishonor. Right there in the heat of the midday sun I would burn the ties of trust. I saw no way out of it.

“You have to swear not to tell anyone else.” “I swear.” “I mean it Billaad, not even your mom; nobody.” “Ok, ok, I swear, now what do you know already?” “Yesturday when I was out with my dad Grip and the elders we stumbled on some marks in the sand of the shore, that’s all.” Billaad scratched the back of his neck. “Alright. So! And?” He even held out his hand as to receive the full story. “well, the men decided the only possible source of these particular marks was Gog and his maraders.” I hung my head low as I finished my statement. I could just see the disappointment on my fathers face as a result of my breaking the agreement. “The Sythians are spying on us? Well are they?” Billaad pressed too hard now. “Look, that’s all I know. The men think so. I don’t know anything about what boats make what marks or who is spying on who. Leave me alone about it; just leave me alone! I told my dad I would not tell anyone and now look what I have done. It’s your fault you know. You and this stupid face-stone.”

Then I did it. The one thing a 12 [decide on age] year old boy can never do; cry in front of another kid around his age. But I could not help it. It stared kinda small and then the flood gates just opened. Billaad did not know what to do. He just made some scratches in the surface of the rock with the sharp edge of a brocken stone. He would look up at me every minute or so as I tried to get myself under control. Once I finally stopped, Billaad said, “I cry too sometimes Crill. Mostly at night when I am trying to fall asleep. I mean I never knew my dad but I miss him all the same. Why did he have to die before he ever got to know his son? It makes no sense. This great God the Guslar talked about and Grandpa almost chokes himself grunting about (he laughs a little), what is his problem? Why would he take my dad from me like that if he is supposed to love us and be protecting us? And, then I think of my mom and all her gibberish about the mother god earth. My dad’s energy is one with the energy of everything else? What the heck is that about? And I would like it if there was just one room in our longhouse without one of those stupid paintings of the woman and the animals. It’s animals in a boat or animals in a crotch; what a choice? Why can’t God just come down and spell it out for us?”

The boats were long gone over the horizon now. I had fully recovered and Billaad’s lament faded into more talk of the ark. We decided that more detail must be obtained. Our plan was to go directly to the Guslar. We would convince him to reveal specific points about the flood the ark, and how the heck it was built. We wanted to know why only so few people were on it. We wanted to know why more arks were not built or were they? But how to get him talking?

Tall Tales

2011-07-18T20:54:00.001-04:00

After dinner this night we stayed in as a rare rain shower, all be it light, was moving through the area and the Guslar's song for the evening was cancelled. My stomach was still feeling stuffed when there came a knocking at our front door. My father answered to find a four fold surprise. It was two of his older brothers, Rushash and Benib (visiting from Macedon's village) together with Tiras and the Gusler.

After some merry catching up and general socializing our four visitors, Grip, and my father moved off to one corner of the great room. Engaged, as I was, in some play with the younger children and at some distance from the men's huddle I was only able to make out a word or two here and a phrase or two there of the lengthy and serious conversation taking place among the elders. And, before too long I was wiscked off to bed where these snippets of ominous adult situations at hand were enough to prevent the good night sleep my father had predicted for me earlier in the day.

Here below I will clue you the reader into what escaped me then. Rushash and Benib had made the rugged trip up the cost of the sea in order to share with Kimmeril and the elders the horrible news of the recent attach on their village by the very heartless villains that now threatened the peace and safty of our community. The attach, some three weeks before their visit, was brutal but short lived. Gog himself led the marauders on a night time raid of Macedon's village. The sparingly few guards that had been posted had been swiftly dispatched, impaled on their own spears. Gog's hoard then turned on the long houses, setting them a blaze.

As the families fled their burning homes, the children were cut down, the men beheaded, and the women raped and beaten. The attach had begun so suddenly, savagely, and soundly that the village could only muster pockets of resistance. All seemed lost when while fleeing from his long house Macedon himself was pined to the outside wall of his dwelling by the spear of Gog. The point of the heavy weapon had caught Macedon's frontright shoulder between the collarbone and the arm socket. Gog approached Macedon ready to disemboule or behead or in some way cause this torturous death with his blade now drawn. But instead, after close inspection of Macedon's face (birth mark) he relents. Not only is Macedon spared his life but the entire onslaught, by the trumpeters horn, is called off and the invaders slip as quickly into the night as they had appeared from it. The village was left torched and bloodied but not crushed.

The Guslar contributes that the abortion of Gog's attach is most uncharacteristic of the barbarian. Grip and the Guslar then contemplated the possibility that some aspect of the encounter with Macedon might have freighted Gog. Perhaps the shape of Macedon's birthmark has a spiritual significance and Gog disengaged out of respect for the gods. The Gusler assured all that Gog feared nothing - the gods included. Grip concluded that it must be the birthmark and although he has seen it many times asks Kimmeril, Gushash, and Benib to discribe it in detail. Tiras then interrupted the conversation with a pound of his fist against the top of the small table in the midst of the men.

All the men were then silent as they gave full attention to the patriarch. He began to sketch out some intricate designs onto an unraveled skroll. After some time Grip voiced his conjecture that whatever Tiras was drawing it was not consistent with Macedon's birthmark. The brothers concured. Kimmeril asked softly "Dad, what are you doing?" As he did so he attempted to get Tiras's attention so that he would look at Kimmeril's face as he asked the question. This was consistently our only hope that Tiras woold understand any of what we wished to communicate to him. But in this instance Tiras did not even lift his eyes from his etching on the scroll to attempt to read his son's body language in order to understand.

What confinement of spirit it must have been for Tiras to live freely among his family yet only communicate with them on the most rudimentary level. The etched pictures were growing in number and complexity when the Gusler finally recognized one of them. "These are of the first tongue!" He said, standing with excitement. The ancients would make such shapes to record a story, or instructions, or any knowledge they deemed of improtance to preserve or communicate orer a period of time or space.

"Well, what does it say?" Asked Grip. The Guslar's memory of the symbols was shaky. He said that only some of the drawings were first tonguge. "This one for instance is not." It was a large tree like structure with figures of people at each separation of the branches. At the pinicle of the diagram was a closed boat of some kind and three branches protruding from it. The left and right branch did not splinter off but ended. The center branch split off in many directions, from two of these branches sprang yet another generation of branches. The Guslar noticed that the symbol for one was not a symbol of a person but rather a first tongue symbol for self. The Guslar pointed at the figure and pointed at Tiras simultaneously while he looked raised eyebrows at the old artist as if to question if Tiras occupied that position in the diagram.

Tiras smiled with satisfaction and touched the tip of his nose as to signal the Guslar and everyone else that that was exactly correct. He started to chuckle a little as he resumed his work with increased vigor as he was now energized with the confidence the men had made connection with his pictures. It would not be long now until ther whole of his thoughts would be made known.

You see, Gog, son of Tiras's brother Magog was a boyhood playmate of Macedon. They spent a great deal of time together and shared their early lives as close companions (much the same as Billaad and I were up to). Not only was Gog a strapping young man but he was smart as well. So smart that he found his own fathers level of intellectual exercise wanting. He grew less and less interested in what his father had to say and more and more interested in spending time with Macedon and listening to what Tiras had to say.

God had blessed Tiras with a mind unparralled. He was engineering, artistic, well versed, even philosophical. Tiras seemed to just know how everythig worked and could solve any problem or riddle. He was born as the growing camp moved along the newly formed river networks after the flood. Aimless at first it was the adolesent Tiras who first noticed that the temperatures were generally colder as they traveled with the sunrise to their right and generally warmer as they traveled with the sun rise on their left. This was a new phenomenon. The pre-flood world had temperatures much more consistent from place to place. The new direction precipitated the companies entry into the virginning fertile basin between the two great rivers. Tiras was first again to recognize the value of the heads on the wild grasses that grew in the plain. He congectured that this source of food could not only be harvested on the fly as the camp moved about but man could engineer control over its product and therefore settle permanently searching no farther than the planted fields for sustenance. And so, a settlement was erected. Baked brick and then quarried stone was used to build a large city - Babel. The camp had multiplied from 8 to 80 to 800 to 8000 to 80000.

So vast and successful were the endeavors of man that the whole city was filled with a sense of accomplishment. There was no end to the patting on one another's back on how sapient, skillful, self sufficient, and superior was man. Again it was Tiras who led this time in rhetoric. He proposed the construction of a tower.

This tower of Babel would be a testimony to man and his supremacy. All were captivated by these high minded speeches filled with praise reiterating over and over all the accomplishments attained since the catastrophe. It was as if each man, woman, and child began to speak in one voice and the one voice sang of the glory of man, what he could do, and what he knew. That is; all but the ones of the ark.

These few elders had seen such foolhardiness before and raised their voices in protest. Too few were they. Too unbelievable were their stories. Too depressing was their testimony of man's true nature. It was not long before every word from their mouths was regarded with scorn. A laughing stock, pathetic old men and unstable old women, these once dear precious patriarchs were driven to disgrace and seclusion.

One individual in particular was completely won over by Tiras and his great swelling words. That one was Gog. Sold out in service to Tiras and his ideas he became as a son to him as he shoot out of his life his true father Magog. It is not that Magog was opposed to his brother. It was more that he could't care less about him, his son, Gog, or anyone else but himself. As devoted as Gog became to Tiras so was Magog devoted to pleasing Magog.

Work on the tower began with great enthusiasm and progress was being made at a pace that even Tiras was amazed by. He recalls contemplating that even God must now sing the praise of man and that truly no power could stand in man's way. It seems so absurd now as he scratches out the history on a tatered skroll unable to speak coherently, even to his own son.

What happened next is well known but not well understood. In the wink of an eye the one tongue of all humanity was confused. They no longer understood one an others speech.

Noah and his sons, together with the 1st generation after Shem, Ham, and Jepheth (the patriarchs) all continued to speak the first tongue. All others could no longer speak it nor understand it. Each line of the third generation spoke a new and distinct language. For example; all descendents of Tiras spoke a new language foreign to all others. Likewise, all descendents of Magog spoke anothrer new language, again foreign to all others. Overnight, the peaceful unified effort of all civilization to construct the great Tower of Babel and dedicate it to the glory of man was swallowed up by the shock and awe of the greater confusion of tongues.

Mysterious was the arrival of new laguages; more mysterious was the perception of the speakers of those new languages. No individual person was aware of any change in the language they spoke and understood. The only change seemed to be that in what others spoke and understood.

My father had explained it to me a year or so before this meeting of elders in the corner of our great room. Even though the language Kimmeril spoke after the confusion was completely different than first tongue, Kimmeril could swear that he continued to speak the first tonge after the confusion. From his perspective, it was only the language of others that had changed. he thought even his father Tiras, who in actuality retained the first tongue, was speaking some strange new language.

We can only imagine the frustration. One moment he is talking to his father and the next neither one of them has any idea what the other is saying. Both of them think they are speaking the same language and think the other is playing some cruel trick. That is until they find out how widespread the problem. Very soon in fact fear, anger, and suspicion began to drive the civilization apart. The sons of Tiras fallowed their now effectively mute father up the Euphraties. Ours was one of the first tribes to abandon Babel. This was in no small way a consequence of Tiras and his strong leadership in the building of the tower. A clash with the tribe of Gomer, Tiras's older brother was obverted when they were allowed to pass our tribe and in so doing took the lead as both tribes headed up stream toward the legendary mountains where the ark had come to rest after the flood. it was at this juncture that Kimmeril came to know for the first time the cunning of Ashkenaz, son of Gomer.

The once wide-eyed Gog was devastated by the events surrounding the confusion. For it caused the summery dismissal of the Tower and all it stood for. Work on the structure quickly came to a standstill and the high ideals so eloquently orated to the masses by Tiras began to disintegrate into their base components of greed, pride, and self. The whereabouts of the tribe of Magog were unknown to us until the trader's testimony and gusler's tail began to circulate the treacherous deeds of the ruthless Gog.

As the elders meeting came to a close, the group, still huddled around the elaborate drawings, concluded that Gog, recognizing the birth mark, had disengaged the attach on our sister village in response to the remnant of emotion felt for the friend of his youth. How these factors might effect our camp was left for another meeting.

Kitchen chat

2011-07-17T18:54:00.000-04:00

I ran outside and jumped into my dad's arms. "Miss me?" I said. "Like the river misses the sea." He responded. that was our little exchange that we shared. Any time we were apart, it was a game between the two of us. Each of us tried to be the first to say 'miss me?' The other would always come back with 'like the river misses the sea.' I don't know why we did it really but it was fun. I liked it.

"We have to get home now Crill. I want all your chores attended to and you washed and ready to eat by the time your mom has dinner ready." He seemed distracted as he recited these things I knew already needed to be done. "Do the marks in the sand have you troubled father?" I asked as we neared our home. There was no response. "What did the others have to say about the boat tracks we found today?" I said but louder this time. "The others? No, we have not told anyone yet. I spent the afternoon in prayer to our Father and protector in heaven that He might show us what is to be done." He said point blank as his distraction was broken now. "So you believe the Guslar's stories then about how God created us, loves us, and looks out for us?" I asked with some excitement. "Yes of course I do son." He said as we stopped just a few cubits from our door. He continued. "Our Father did create us as a people. What is more He created me and you individually and loves us more then we know." My father was now on one knee looking me square in the eye. I could smell the garlic salts on his breath from the cured meat we had on the trail earlier. "Know these things son. Do not forget them. Share them with your children in the days to come." He looked now as though he wanted some sort of response from me. "I will dad. Should I share also of the devastating flood and how God destroyed all the living except Noah and his family?" He stood up and looked to the sky and said, "I don't know about that. We will have to talk later of these things. Right now lets prepare for the evening meal." "Yes father, see you at the table." And I was off to do my chores.

The list of chores assigned to me was not too bad. Besides looking after my small area in the boys' dorm, I was responsible for the general upkeep of the great room. I was to return everything to its place and sweep the floor with a damp brush we had attached to the end of a long pole. Our floors were made of stone and the number one enemy in our lives were bugs, all kinds of nasty little critters running around. We had to keep stuff clean and keep those bugs out; best we could.

As I swept the floor I could hear my dad and mom talking in the kitchen. "How was your day Kim?" My mother's voice was so soft. It was like placing your head on a pillow stuffed with goose feathers. As you lay there your head would be resting on air, weightless. That is how her voice made you feel; like all the weight of the world was lifted from you as her words poured over your mind. "Like all days Peach, some good and some bad." My dad called my mom Peach because he loved peaches. That was his nickname for her. Her name was Philia. "What was the good part?" She asked. "Grip's idea worked like a charm. The deer stayed clear of the crops." He replied. "Anything else good?" "I enjoyed the time spent with Crill. He kept up with us very well. I think he will sleep well tonight." My dad was right. He only had to carry me a few times along the uneven rocky portions of the shore on the way back. "Crill asked me about the Guslar's stories." His tone was less confident at this remark. "What did he want to know?" I could hear her stop chopping and the clip-clap of her sandals along the kitchen floor. Their voices became softer now and I was forced to clean the portion of the great room that was closer to the kitchen door in order to continue to hear their conversation without eavesdropping. I was cleaning the great room after all. I could not help if I overheard them.

Dad: He wanted to know if the stories were true.
Mom: What did you tell him?
Dad: I told him that God loved us very much. I told him that God created us individually and created everything we see. I told him not to forget these things and to tell his children about our loving God in the heavens.
Mom: How did he respond?
Dad: He said that he would.
Mom: Well that is wonderful. It seems that the movement to believe in the mother-god earth has not infected his heart. I pray every night that the same might be said for Billaad. I shutter every time I think of the paintings of your sister's plastered all over the walls of her house. I still don't understand why you don't insist that the three of them live here; sharing our long house instead of living with Baashard's family.
Dad: Yet you know as well as I that Baashard and his two brothers, sons of Ashkenaz all, came with us at Ankara; as they did not wish to continue in the ways of their father. You know also of the mutual devotion shared by my sister Luci and Baashard. And I do not have to remind you of the Askuza treachery we faced on the Istranca Daglar; the cause of Baashard's death. She stays with the brothers and their families because that is as close to Baashard as she can humanly come. I do not insist she stay here because I refuse to exasperate her loss any futher.
Mom: Should I remind you that she drifts further from God the FATHER every day? What of our losing her? Does this count for nothing?
Dad: REMIND ME! I remind you of your place.
Mom: I am sorry my husband. I only protest from the grief in my heart. Does she cease day or night from making the drawings and paintings? How long can you turn a blind eye as she skips along that darkened path? Kimmeril, I love Geolucia as a sister. She is in trouble. She needs her big brother.

My dad turns now to my mom and reaches out to hold her and they embrace. I can only see ths because of my coincidental vantage point near the front door some five cubits and at just the right angle from the kitchen door; I am finishing up with the great room, really.

Later at dinner we are joined as we are every evening by the other families that share our long house. They are Calvis, of course, with his family and Engain with his family. Not only is Calvis my dad's best friend but he is also his cousin. Most of my dad's brothers and sisters (23 in all) live in my uncle Macedon's community located to the south and east of us. We separated from them about a year ago and came up here. Engain is my dad's nephew. Calvis's wife's name is Palia and they have six kids. I won't bore you with all of their names but Petrus, he is 12, he is the one you have to watch out for. Lynadelosia is the wife of Engain. I always have trouble pronouncing that one so I just call her aunt Lynda. Although, I don't really think she is my aunt. They have five kids, one of them is the same age as my younger brother. Oh yea, I forgot to tell you about my baby brother Nikelus. He was born here during the white season. Babies don't go to the Guslar's song. I also have three older brothers and two older sisters. They all live here in the longhouse. My older brothers (25, 22, 18) all have wives. My older sisters (17, 15) share a room and look after the babies during times like the Guslar's song. That is one big dinner party.

Gaea

2011-07-16T09:44:00.006-04:00

Upon our return to the village I was given leave to locate my freinds and play for a time before evening chores and supper. Billaad lived at the northern tip of the main cluster of homes. We had helped his family build their longhouse and had barley finished befoe the last season of white. Billaad's longhouse was much larger than ours. Longer, in fact, than any of the others that had been built so far. I could see Billaad's face in one of them as I approached. It quickly disappeared and by the time I got to the front door, he was there to greet me. "Where have you been? I have been looking for you all day." Billaad was very excited about something as he grabbed my shirt and pulled me through the common area of his house toward the boys' hall. As we passed I saw Tiras sitting in a chair working, very intently, on some small object with his hands. Tiras was my grandfather. He was also Billaad's grandfather. Billaad's mother was my aunt Geolucia. Billaad and I knew very little about Tiras. He was as old as anyone we had ever seen and the only words I had ever heard him speak were 'please' and thank you'; and even then they were almost unrecognizable. My father had explained that it had something to do with the Tower and the language Tiras spoke was of old and only the patriarchs could speak and understand it now. Not even he (Kimmeril) could understand it anymore. In fact, it could not even be learned.

Once inside the boys' hall and safly atop Billaad's bunk and with all the energy his nine year old frame could handle my friend and cousin began to spill forth all the events of his incredible morning. "You are not going to believe me!" he started. And again he said, "There is no way you will believe me." Half ready to outdo any story he could tell with the news of hair clippings and spies from Magog, even if it meant breaking my agreement not to tell, I snapped back with "Try me."

After breakfast I asked my mom if all that stuff about creation, the flood, and God the Guslar said in his stories was true. She said that it was not. She said that people like the Guslar just dream those stories up because it makes them feel better. I asked her how it makes them feel better. She told me they feel bad on account of all the bad stuff that happens to them. She said they need to believe that they have this great protector that brought them here and loves them and is personally looking out for them. I asked her how that made them feel better if this protector really did destroy almost everybody in a flood. She said, awe but he didn't destroy everybody did he? He saved their grandpa, Noah, and his three sons. So to them, he also saved them and loves them as long as they do what he says. She said that it all sounds so nice but it is just a made up story.
Well I said, what really happened then? How did we get here? She said she did not know exactly but pointed at the wall one more time. She said as you can see in the painting all life springs forth from the Mother God that is Gaea (earth). The earth is the source of life, all life, our life. there is nothing personal about it and there is also nothing guaranteed eigther. You can follow all the rules, love with all your heart, hope with all you are and still fall; well die in an accident leaving your family lost and alone. I said you mean like dad? Yes, just like your father. where was this great protector that day as we climbed out of the reveen? I don't know mom. She came to me then and held me, tears in her eyes. I didn't mean to make you sad or try to get you to answer for that accident. What I am trying to tell you is that it is ok that your dad passed on in that way. It is all part of the flow of life streaming through its cycles in and around the mother god earth. He is gone and we will miss him, but we are all one in the energy of life and what he was has already been recycled and living on anew only in different ways.
So will we see him again? No honey but we will be with him as we are with him now, one in the energy that is life coming from and centered in the mother god earth. Well where did the mother god earth come from? She said she did not know. She said the mother god must have come from a chaotic nothingness. She then asked why that is important. She said the earth just came to be; just one more big accident she guessed.

I interrupted Billaad and said "So that is what all these weird paintings you have on the walls of every room in your house are all about?" "I guess so." He replied. "All this time the big fat lady with extra wide hips and gigantic boobs that has all the kinds of animals coming out from her crotch is the mother god earth? That is what your mom is telling you?" I was really being much more insensitive than usual with my tone of voice. "I told you that you would not believe me; and I haven't even told you the most amazing part yet!" Billard was off again.

After our talk I went into the great room to play with Arst. he would tug on that old shirt I have tied up in knots forever if I would only tug back that long. As we wrestled for the shirt grandpa came and sat down next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him puzzled like and he smiled at me while he rubbed my back. Arst barked a few times before strutting off with the drewl dampened rag. Garndpa's smile, still glowing, was of the kind that can make you warm on the coldest night. Granpa handed me this picture.

Billaad then showed me the picture Tiras had given him. It was easy to see now from where Geolucia had received her artistic talent. The picture was breath taking. It was of a magnificent garden. There were two people, a man and a woman, who were in the garden. They were completely naked, totally relaxed as they strolled the garden eating of its fruit. There was another in the garden; one who shown like the sun. No feature was recognizable in him except this glowing magnificence. There were animals in the garden. All, lion to lamb, were at peace. It was the most tranquil painting I have ever seen. Billaad went on to tell how Tiras had tried to explain the painting. The old man had used hand gestures, body movements, the sparingly few words of our language he could grunt out, together with phrases from his own language when he became frustrated. All my cousin could really gleen form his effort was that the Guslar's stories were true and Tiras knew it from his father Jepheth and his grandfather Noah.

It was painful to watch and listen to our gradfather try to communicate to us. I was always embarrassed for him and believed him to be mentally or physically deficient. It was as though his tongue could not be formed to make the sounds of our language in the required order.

"What did you make of grandpa's utterings?" I asked Billaad. "What can be made of them? I ask you." he replied. "I know my dad believes in the Almighty God of creation; but, I don't know if he takes the Guslar's stories all that seriously." "You should ask him." Billaad exhorted. "I will!"

Just then, the unmistakable sound of Kimmeril's sharp whistle burst penetrated the walls of Billaad's room. "That's my dad. I have to go. See you tomorrow." I said. "Yea, I will tell you about grandpa's model of the boot they used to excape the flood. he is finishing it now." He replied.

Lines in the Sand

2011-07-14T19:59:00.006-04:00

With the sun came mother's soft voice and gentle kiss to the forehead. "Wake-up little one." She said, "greakfast is almost ready." Already the bustle of carts, cattle, and the days commotion breached the walls of our longhouse by way of the slat covered windows. As was the case every day, much work was to be done by all in the village. Our village was not long founded at that time. Many families continueded to live in make shift arrangements. We had to cooperate in the planning and building of their permanent longhouses. The crops planted among the fingers of water created across the fertile flats by the two great rivers needed much attention. The day's catch from the Sea of Ashkenaz was of critical importance to our daily supply of food. We all worked together hardily, young and old, to build and maintain our community in the delta. Today would be no different.

Directly after breakfast my father took me with him as he went to investigate, with a group of men from our village, what damage had been done in the fields over the night by the nearby herds of deer. We had tried many things to ward the animals off, posted guards, scarecrow, strategically placed small fires, and even dogs. Little by little and together these methods had met with some success. As we ventured out my father told me of yet another scheme that had been tried that past night. "Hey Crill, last night we spread out, among the tender shoots, hair that had been cut from our very faces, heads, and bodies. Our hope is that the deer will smell the hair and believe it to be men present in every corner of the field. Do you think it will work?" My father had a very optimistic tone as he spoke. My first thought was the Guslar's cut back beard. I wondered if they had even used some of his hair against the deer. I had noticed a peculiar waft coming from the direction of the stage last evening. I answered, "That sounds like it could fix the whole problem. Who was the one to think of it?"

"Old Grip here, as has been the case many a time, was the source of our wisdom." It was true, for many of the problems we had faced; it was my fathers trusted friend Grip who devised the proper solution. It was his practice; however, to always credit the Almighty for imparting him with the knowledge in some sort of dream or vision. I wondered what kind of vision it was this time. In retrospect this particular solution was a bit ironic. You see, Grip's head was as smooth as a river stone. Yep, he was bald all right.

As our inspection of the fields came to a close, the sun then high in the sky and just beginning its slow fall to the western horizon, the men in our party were all abuzz as to how we had found virtually no new crop damage. Yes, they were very confident that the combination of the temporary techniques would stave off the deer until some sort of permanent fencing could be devised and constructed. It was decided to walk back to the village along the seashore in order to take in the relaxing beauty in which God had set our present existance. Howerver, along the way we came upon some very troubling marks in the sand.

"What do you make of these tracks Kimeril?" said a young man in our group named Tuskin. Tall and rudy, Tuskin was a man of action. All through the morning he had harped at how the only way to dissuade the deer permanently was to hunt them all down. Besides he said, "they taste very good." The older men could not seem to convince him that hunting the deer too vigorously would destroy an otherwise long term food supply. With the newly discovered tracks, however, the elders were keenly aware that the hunter's bow might well have been turned in the opposite direction; at them! You see our village was not the only human establishment along the vast perimeter of the Sea of Ashkenaz. One group in particular was a continual concern. The people of Magog who for most of the year reseced back in the network of draws and ridges of the Caucus Mountains that brushed the eastern shores of the sea. At most unpredictable times, however, they would take to the sea in bands of small boats to maraud the small settlements all along the shores.

They had as yet to cause any trouble for ours but the tails told to us by guslar and trader alike painted a ghastly picture of these Scythians and of their heathen practices. The one that stuck so vividly in my small head was that they would drink the blood of their beaten foe. That picture alone had sent me running to my mother's bosom on more than one occasion.

Most feared of the marauders was gog, son of Magog. The extent of his brutality was supposed only matched by the limits of his strength. At all times cloaked, his massive frame and steely eyes comprised the total of his physical description by those few that had witnessed and survived one of his raids. What that had caught the attention of the elders and how they knew the threat real was a line in the sand at our feet drawn by the rib on the bottom of a Scythian boot that made land on our shores. All the fishing boots for the many settlements along shores were flat bottomed and having no such rib. the Scythian boots were different.

The conversation that ensued as we walked, with some pace, back to the village is telling. And so, I include it here in its entirety.

Calvis (Grip): We shall not speak of this to the others.
Tuskin: What are you talking about? We have to tell everyone. We have to prepare for these raids should they come. How can we possibly think that ignoring this will make it go away? If it is a fight that this Gog or Magog or whoever is in for, then I for one will not shrink back in fear and denial. I am ready to fight. I am ready to fight. I am ready to die so as not to live in fear.
Formill: Tuskin, you are but a boy. Hold your tongue here in our presence and when we return to the village. Whatver information is to be given our people it will be through the mouth of Kimeril not yours.
Tuskin: Look, like his father, it seems the mouth of Kimeril works not; for since we have seen the line in the sand it is as though he has no tongue at all!
Calvis: Hold man!
Formill: Yes, hold or I will personally cut yours from your throat.
Tuskin: While I still have mine, if none of you are going to warn the others, then I will be compelled to do so.
Kimeril: ENOUGH! Grip, of course you are correct and Formill, yes Tuskin is but a boy. However, he is brave. We will all need such bravery should Gog indeed visit us. Tuskin, no body is talking about fear or denial. And yes, we will prepare wisely and honorably for this present danger. But, panic is of no use in preparation and panic transforms bravery into foolhardiness. As you all see my tongue works, however, it is a slave to my intellect and my intellect serves the Almighty. Our first move will be to pray to Him for guidance, wisdom, and deliverance. We shall then wait upon Him and His answer. We shall remind the people of what they already know of the Sythians is true and possible at any moment. And then we will ready ourselves. Agreed?
Calvis: Agreed.
Formill: Agreed.
Tuskin: Agreed.
Crill: Agreed.

With my seal of approval the four men all laughed loudly and the clam assurance my father had given us through his faith in God was punctuated by the awkward small voice of an 11 year old.

The Guslar's Song

2011-07-10T17:08:00.006-04:00

"Ouch! That hurts!" I was 11 years old and at the end of my rope. My younger sister had pricked the back of my neck with a Hawthorn (I stress the thorn) needle for the last time. "If you do that again I will return you to the dust whence you came, so help me I will." I said emphatically and with voice audible to my father, Kimeril, the leader of our little village. His response was characteristic if not predictable verbatim. "Crill (that's me) my boy, what has got you so wroth?" He dealt plainly. Continuing he said, "If you do well, should you not be accepted? And if you do not well, does not sin lie at the door in wait to be your master?" "You say so always when she bids my anger, what of her deeds? What of her acceptance?" My heart cried back to the father who loved us both so. "Your sister Storm is but 4 hears old, not having reached the age of knowing." He reminded, adding, "We must correct her with kindness, understanding her need for attention while showing her your need not to be pricked. Pricking her harder only teachers her to prick you harder still, given the chance." The smile that then grew on Storm's face caused me to suppose that the age of knowing was in need of some adjustment.

Nearly dusk now the large bon fire ringed with stones in the center of our village was already brightly a flame. Most of the families were assembled and the Guslar was in a meditative trance. He hummed an erratic tune while making random utterances unrecognizable to my ear. Yet, it was highly prvocative, captivating my attention as I soon had forgotten all about Storm's pricking.

It was another cool dry night and because of my father's position we always had a fantastic spot both near the fire and near the Guslar's small stage. I had never before heard or seen this one so it was with great anticipation I observed his preparation to orate the nights story. He was small in stature but wide in girth. His skin was of darker complexion with a salt and pepper beard cut back to a fingers width form his wrinkled face. Obviously older than most while being agile enough to navigate the short staircase to the stage with ease, he even had a bounce to his step.

He moved to stage center. Facing the audience, he lowered his head, folded his hands and was silent. A hush fell over the village. He slowly raised his wide eyed gaze to the heavens, stretched out his arms with open hands and began:

Looking unto the sky this night as in nights past
I see the dreamy points of light so deep and vast, I wonder.
Is that story spake of old,
when created we are told,
All that is seen and held and known, earth flame wind stone
Be He true over waters deep, moved to entreat, I wonder.

Perfect Word's womb, gives birth the world, life's waters lo
"Let there be light" darkness is night, and it was so, I wonder.
Waters divide on command,
Firmament rise by His hand,
Universe abounding, by His will unfolding
Heaven prepared by Him we receive, yea we believe, and wonder.

By His voice, gathered the waters unto the sea.
Bestowed waves for the tide, dry land does now abide.
Who on baited breath awaits,
What next will He create?
By His call, the earth brings forth grass and seed in kind.
And herb and fruit supplied, trees appear that we now find.

By His verse exist the lights in heaven so placed.
For the markers each a sign, seasons passing, keeping time.
Which way to go, be not lost,
For heaven declares your path.
By His wisdom making the greater ones so spaced.
The rulers day and night marking steps showing right.

Commanding waters that abundantly quicken
In their very beings the code so is written,
Making the kinds fish and fowl,
Great whales He does allow.
Spake He, multiply all kinds to so fill the earth
The measure be but five days now since the world's birth.

Over the land be it heard, His thunderous voice perturbs,
All kinds of creature - beast, cattle, creeping things - bring forth!
the time at last has now come
Spirit creates blessed ones
By His very breath and in His perfect image
Only look on one's face to see the Lord's visage

Speaks to man whom He made, His glory well displayed
Dominion be yours with the woman as help meet
given herb bearing seed; eat
with fruit yielding trees; meat
On the sixth day the earth stood, God saw all was good,
Seventh day, words compleate, sanctified task replete
Almighty rests work done, I wonder, wonder on.

Such was the Guslar's opening rhyme. He went on that night to tell in a grand song the epic of the great and awesome flood, which God had sent on the earth to destroy all flesh. He recounted, of course, that it had been man's sinful nature what brought about this catastrophic event and that only Noah his sons and their wives escaped on an ark of their own construction. Foretold by god himself, they had prepared the great ship to specification and brought aboard animals of every kind. The entire earth was covered with water that had been released from the heavens and the caverns of the deep.

Months past before the earth began to settle and the waters asswaged. With much authority he sang of how the world was now vastly different than before the deluge. The large spans of sand and salt so inhospitable in our time were nonexistent in the original creation. Along with the scars and tears they are products of the cataclysmic events surrounding the virtual destruction of man. For if it were not that "Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord", then man would have been utterly removed. As it was, now man would barley cling to life by the sweat of his brow and the providence afforded him not by his good deeds but by the grace to come.

Although the story had been long and the hour late, I had managed to stay awake threw to the end. And with Storm draped close to our mother's form as she held her dear, check to rosy check, the precious girl's legs a sway with mother's gait, Kimeril carried me, my arms wrapped at his neck, legs tucked to his arms, on his back to our home in the village and the gentle peace of a nights sleep.

Israel's Borders

2011-05-23T10:46:00.003-04:00

Consider President Obama’s latest proposal: Israel should return to the 1966 borders. How is this suggestion not arbitrary? I mean, could not the Prime Minister of Israel counter with this equally valid proposal: Israel should return to the 966 BC borders? In fact, the American Indian nations should take this opportunity to step up to the plate with their own proposal: North America should return to the 1566 borders. What is the difference between the “Six Day War” and any other war in which one side got its butt kicked by the other side?

"You've got to ask yourself one question..."

2009-09-24T15:23:00.001-04:00

Does the phenomenon of luck exist? Before we can determine our answer we must agree on what it means to be lucky or unlucky. According to a conglomerate of definitions it seems that luck is taken to be a set of forces beyond our control that influence the fortune of the individual.

There exists a strong thread in these definitions that claims these forces are random, accidental, and unintended in their actions on the fortunes of men. Another thread reports that these forces operate for good or ill and therefore a purposeful intent behind the forces is implied.

If one refers to luck as in the second thread, forces operated with intent for good or ill, then I am inclined to accept its existence (although I would not use the term luck). On the other hand, if the forces of luck are supposed un-deliberate salvoes having marked but chance effect, then I must withhold my endorsement.

-Mel

holy Qur'an?

2009-06-05T14:52:00.002-04:00

Can a Christian call the Qur’an Holy? He can only if he is ignorant or deceitful. When President Obama quoted (Cairo speech) form what he called the “Holy Qur’an” he showed his ignorance of the meaning of the word Holy in the spiritual sense or he contradicted himself. There can be no other explanation.
Christians believe, by definition, and repeat, by commission, that Jesus is God. Christians should know that when something is Holy it is spiritually perfect of God. The Qur’an states most specifically and more than once that Jesus is NOT God. Therefore, either Christians are wrong or the Qur’an is not Holy. This fact implies Obama is not a Christian (he says he is), Obama does not understand the meaning of the word Holy, or Obama is lying to the world; knowing full well that the Qur’an is NOT Holy.
In the love of Christ,
-Mel

Why?

2009-01-11T19:59:00.003-05:00

Let’s suppose, for a moment, that there is no God. Let’s suppose that the universe came to be on its own and unintentionally so. Let’s suppose accidental abiogenesis in a soup of chemicals. Let’s suppose millions of years of random mutation are selected out in a dog-eat-dog game of survival and produce the kinds of life present on today’s earth. Suppose there exists a man, call him Edward, who is a member of what is undoubtedly the fittest species of them all. He, of course, is not the product of any intentional act of supernatural creation and there exists no specific plan for his life. He is not subject to any absolute law of truth. His survival and the survival of his genes in the gene pool depend solely on his fitness.

Suppose now that Edward, a striking figure himself, sets his sights on Mary. She is a beautiful young woman; fit indeed. Edward begins his advances only to find that Mary is engaged to William. William is small in stature but has a rather large brain. He is industrious, honorable, and brings home a large paycheck. Mary is in love and resolved to marry William.

Edward is undaunted. He reasons with the very brain given to him by the miracle of natural selection that the only solution is to remove William from the picture. Edward sneaks into William’s apartment and bludgeons him over the head a dozen times with a lead pipe. He steals his wallet and leaves behind a handkerchief of the color of the local gang. The police mistakenly arrest a boy who delivers pizzas in the neighborhood. The boy is convicted and Edward gets off scot free.

Mary is heart broken but Edward is there to console her. It is not long before they are on their honeymoon securing Edward’s place in the gene pool. Mary ends up having five kids with Edward before she finds out that he has had countless affairs almost from the start. Nobody is sure exactly how many kids Edward has fathered. Most of them inherit Edward’s cunning and good looks. Therefore they go on to lead similar lives and procure equally prominent positions in the gene pool. By the way, the pizza delivery boy who never had anything to do with the gang and was only trying to work his way through college was knifed in prison and died without ever fathering a child.

Of course this story is not true; but, if it were, then I would like to know something from any atheist, materialist, or humanist.

From the perspective of the natural world and in the light of our supposed evolution, is there any injustice in the above story? If so, then why?

-Mel

The Sorcerer's Plight

2008-05-25T00:47:00.002-04:00

I have made an online acquaintance. His name is Ray. And Ray has got himself into quite the predicament. He seems to have convinced himself that even the idea of Almighty God is incoherent and internally contradictory. He reports his findings here.

I have invited him to this blog. I have offered him a venue for friendly discussion. I aim to clear some if not all of the confusion from his mind. I understand that this will not be easy. He has invested a great deal of honest thought and effort into the construction of his line of reasoning. In fact I fear that he has gone over it so thoroughly in his mind that unintentional ruts may have been carved. While comfortable and perceived as safe these engraved lines of thinking may prove insurmountable obstacles to the truth; God forbid.

When we read Ray’s list of Assumptions we see Ray trying to paint God into a corner of contradiction. He seems to be saying “God, if you CAN make a perfect universe, then why did you NOT?” Well the answer might be that Ray’s idea of a perfect universe and God’s idea of a perfect universe are different.

What if the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God, Ray referred to, wanted to create special beings that love Him? Well, He could create them so they have to love Him. But, that is weird. I mean love is a decision. It is not a character trait. For these creatures to be able to actually love God, they would have to have the real option to reject God. Hence, the possibility of Evil is a necessity for a universe that meets God’s standards. He would have to sow a universe where Evil is allowed in order to reap a universe that fits His standards.

One problem; God will not tolerate Evil. He separates Himself from the smallest of sins as He does from the gravest of sins. God must then devise a universe in which His special creatures can choose Evil time and again yet be always near a path to reconciliation. And what of the sin; God can’t just overlook it. All seems lost; the perfect universe unattainable.

But wait. What if God intervenes? What if God enters His creation fully as one of His creatures and fully as Himself? He then having committed no sin would be legally qualified to pay the sin debt for each of the special creatures. They in turn, sins accounted for, would have a continually new opportunity to choose to love God.

Is this the perfect universe; with God separated from Himself? Don’t forget; He is the All Mighty! He has power over death. He, with the righteous requirement of the law fulfilled and raised from the dead, lives and rains as God for all those special creatures who decided to love Him and worship Him. Those special creatures loved by God but choosing time and again to reject God to the end; live eternal separated from Him in torment. Again, this is a necessary consequence in order to reap the universe fit to standard.

Ray, and others, does this presentation clear up in the mind “The Problem of Evil?”

In the love of Christ,

-Mel

The Way

2008-05-22T11:24:00.001-04:00

Some would say that “God enjoys punishing man.” I say.

God is love. God is also just. The righteous requirement of God’s law for sin is death. When a sin is committed, then that sin must be paid for by death. Why? Because that is the way the Creator of the Universe has set it up. Why? God is Holy. He does not tolerate sin. He does not tolerate anything against His will. He separates Himself from all things sinful; things against His will. That is what death (the eternal second death) is. It is separation from God.
God created man to be with Him and worship Him for eternity. However, God gave man free will. That means man can choose to be with God or not. Man can choose to act in accordance with His will or not. Man can choose to sin against God and to not worship Him. In other words God wants volunteer worshipers.

Like it or not, man was created to worship God. Again, like it or not, man is only fulfilled when he is in right relationship with God. Man can’t have joy apart from what he was created for.
God loves man. God wants man to choose His will; but, if God were to force man to choose His will, then this would be no choice at all and it would not be the case that man loved God. So, the choice to love God or not is a real choice with real and everlasting consequences. The decision of each man then belongs to each man.

Man is given sovereign authority to make his choice but he is not given sovereign power. Hence, he is unable to continue in God’s will by his own effort. Every man fails, due to lack of power, to choose to keep God’s law to perfection. God made man, and so, at first glance this may seem unfair of God; even sadistic. On the contrary, the withholding of sovereign power is in fact merciful. If man were to have sovereign power, then his sin, any individual choice against the will of God, would be beyond God’s grace. It would be God’s power that was too limited to make restitution. Praise God for His wisdom and for His grace.

The plan of salvation in Jesus Christ was set down before time. God would come to be with man as a man; the person of His Son Jesus Christ. He would live a perfect life, one without sin, by His sovereign power and then lay His life down willingly in payment for all sin. This Way the righteous requirement of the law would be fulfilled. This Way man’s sovereign authority displayed in disobedience could not separate him from God for all eternity in that he lacks sovereign power. This Way man could be reconciled to God for eternity through the one decision of faith in His Son. This Way God could deliver man into His Holy presence through each man’s humble acceptance of the gift of eternal life. This Way the only man who would spend eternity separated from God would be the man who refused, time and time again, the outstretched arms of the Savior calling him home. This Way, whomsoever (that is broad enough), calls on the name of the Lord (that is specific enough), shall be saved (that is sure enough)!

What logic can be constructed to characterize God as a God who enjoys punishing man in the light of His love poured out for us on the cross? His wrath is only ever revealed against those who have, by their own sovereign choice, rejected His daily offers of love and forgiveness. His wrath is always dispensed with remorse and He never revels in its necessity. He readily and often relents in accordance with the prayers of the righteous for mercy. While He is jealous for His elect and can be angered to wrath; He is loving, kind, merciful, faithful, forgiving and full of grace. This is the God you will find if you open your heart to Him. This is the God who will save at a moment’s notice. Call on Jesus.

The Truth

2008-05-19T11:46:00.002-04:00

Are we ‘seekers’ of the Truth? Do we want to know what is true and what is untrue? Well, before we get too far along on our journey we might want to consider, at least for a moment, what it is exactly we are looking for. I mean we would not want to spend a lot of time, money, and energy looking for something that once found would bring us no satisfaction; would we? Also, if we do not, from the start, understand the thing searched out, then, upon encounter, will we recognize it?
Most dictionaries will inform us that truth should be consistent with the facts or what is real. But if we look up the word fact or the word real, then we are likely to find that these are defined as things that are true. Sounds rather like a British round-about.
Since a formal definition eludes us, we must turn to an intrinsic understanding. Any alleged event, statement, or proposition consistent with what “IS” shall be taken as True. Any alleged event, statement, or proposition which contradicts what “IS” shall be taken as untrue or False. What “IS” must be universal and absolute (axiom). Otherwise, all things become True and nothing is False. But, Falsehood exists. As example, take the following Proposition (P): Over the course of the year 2007, the relative position of the earth to the sun was constant. The negation of P is True. The negation of P is universally and absolutely True. There exists nowhere in space or time a place where the negation of P is untrue. Therefore, Truth is universal and absolute.
So then, what “IS” becomes the standard for Truth. But how do we determine what “IS”? Here we have a huge problem in our search for Truth. We can’t in our own human weaknesses and limited power determine, for certain, what “IS”. We can only ‘believe’ to have determined what “IS”. To this point, humanity has failed to agree to ‘believe’ the same things about what “IS”. In fact, I am sure some would contend that P is true based on their beliefs about what “IS”. Some concede defeat to this Goliath. The Post-Modern man has given up their search for universal absolute Truth and settled for a personal truth. What is not realized is that the search for personal truth is Truly futile (chasing the wind). For by definition, as the person changes, personal truth is ever changing; ever elusive; never to be grasped for more than an instant. It is the carrot held just out of reach. Personal truth is unattainable.
So, are we left empty of personal truth and cut off from the universal absolute Truth? Not at all. We have available access to Truth by the revelation of the One with no weaknesses and unlimited power. For “I Am” is what “IS”. God is the Truth. We have access to Him by His revelation. If He is not willing to reveal, then we are shout out from the Truth. However, if He is willing, then we are guaranteed the Truth. Truth is attainable; only by the will of God.
The good news is that God is willing to reveal the Truth. He proved it coming in person to reveal Himself. He announced Himself as “I AM” (John 8: 58). He identified Himself as what “IS” (John 14: 6). He continues this revelation to this day in the hearts of those willing to humble themselves before the mighty hand of God. If we are ‘seekers’ of Truth, then we seek to know Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
In the love of Christ,
-Mel

Why not Jesus?

2008-04-18T21:46:00.001-04:00

Many people do not accept the fact that they are in need of a savior. I can understand at least two reasons for this attitude: (1) Things have gone well thus far and this person might be tempted to trust in their own strength to carry them or; (2) Many of the behaviors they choose to engage in are known to them to be against the will of God. In both of these cases they are not willing to give up the status quo for some dream of eternal bliss with God.

The problem they have is the same problem all of us have: SIN. God is Holy and righteous and those still in their sins are separated from Him. Those who have accepted Christ have been washed clean in the blood of Calvary and stand reconciled to God. Those who have not accepted Christ stand condemned already because of their unbelief. Since faith in Jesus Christ is the only way to reconciliation, then there can be no justification for any other path and therefore no hope outside of the Gospel.

So, no matter how well things have gone for you in the past (they went well for me for more than 30 years) and no matter how much you enjoy worldly pleasure (I spent long seasons in the vanity of the flesh) your situation is desperate without a relationship with Jesus. No one can force you to accept Christ. You may not want to because you perceive the cost to great. You are right about one thing: If you ask Jesus into your heart, then it will change your life forever.

In the love of Christ, Mel

Responsible posting!

2008-04-18T13:40:00.001-04:00

Please post responsibly at all times. No personal attacks or abusive language will be accepted on this blog.