I grabbed a cup of tea and a pile of books and I basked in the land of imagination. My tea ran dry and I never ate. I was having so much fun that I could not tear myself away for another cup. I read all day and then it was dark and I was so sad for it all to end. It is hard to put down a good book and harder to put down a pile of them.
Now that I am old enough to step into fairy tale land. I want to explore the books of Narnia all over again. I remember them all and wonder how will they be different reading them again.
I
ventured into Narnia through the opened door, imagining myself silently
tiptoeing with Polly and Digory through the attic into the study belonging to
Uncle Madman with magical rings. This world
with lampposts and witches, talking animals and flying Unicorns, real Princes
and Princesses crowned with honor, filled with unwanted adventure. Flying toward the North on Bree excited
to arrive in Narnia, the Journey in the Mountains with Prince Caspian. Viewing the dragon transformation,
his skin “scales” painfully torn from his body revealing a new Eustance. I remember riding with wounded Puddleglum through the tunnels of the underworld on the only path toward Narnia. The last battle, waiting for the real Aslan to please step forward.
"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself."
— C. S. Lewis
This very day I imagine I am a house being made into a palace!
The master of Biblical imagination enters a pub chatting aloud to friends that desire to hear his voice. The voice speaks working the words creating a picture of truth. I imagine listening unnoticed with my back to the wall. Careful not to interrupt with the slightest sound. I have a hope to chat within the conversation. I am not invited, I only listen. I cherish the words of Mr. Lewis' pondering with friends. Lewis reopened the door of my imagination. Good memories those old books!
I stacked my treasured books away.
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