Algonquin

Algonquin


The camp was all set. Tent. Canoe beached. Fire crackling away. And Pete was puzzled. He and Brent hadn’t done this for years on a summer’s holiday weekend extended by a few more days.

Work had separated them to distant communities a decade ago. Reunions had been sparse. New friends. Children. But the phone call had come back in April. Brent had seemed really keen, and arrangements for Algonquin Park just fell into place.

It had been great to rehearse the old tales as they paddled the first two lakes and hit a three kilometre portage before camp. Second day much the same. Pete had wondered about some special agenda in this get together. There had also been a distancing over the years over religion. He had had a profound conversion experience in his late twenties. The old friends had drifted away in awkwardness. He had even wondered whether he might lose Brent.

Jocular supper clean-up. Nothing beat minute steaks and golf ball potatoes over a camper stove in the northern fresh air. Brent offered the aluminum coffee pot for another time, but his buddy just patted his stomach and waved him off.

“Pete you’ve got to do one thing for me. Teach me how to die.” That which followed, much to Pete’s surprise, was an account of a discovered tumour, inoperable, in the brain.

“Brent I can’t do that. Everyone’s case is so unique. The C word seems always to bring on immediate debilitating fear. We have heard other stories. Sudden news. Swift decline. Gone. But let me tell you about my own grandmother and her extraordinary recovery from surgery…”

“…Wow Pete, I didn’t know all of that about Mrs. Michaelson.”

“So buddy I don’t want to tell you about dying. I want to tell you about real living. It starts out seeming hard to believe that one might have a quality relationship with the risen Christ. But know this. He left that cross, came out of that tomb and filled his friends’ hearts with images of heaven and home. Forty days. Then he was gone. Ascended out of their sight, but still very much alive. And open to their prayers, and making His presence known in whispers to the inner man, bits of scripture, conversations with others and rhythms of the Holy Spirit.

Eternal life starts now for the asking, not the earning. We become convinced that we are involved in something much grander than the present life. At a time God determines, we will take the surprising portage of death and come out the other side to a much more expansive territory with rejuvenated vigour and hope.

Yeah…real living. Starting now and never ending. Do you want to talk about it? Keep on going along this line?”

(Brent nodded without saying a word. For the next moment neither had a rejoinder. Peeper frogs filled in the gap. An August night sky crisply sparkled in a way unmatched anywhere else. Both knew that the Creator, benevolent and involved, had become the third Person at the camp-site.

A loon was calling to its mate at the far end of the lake.)

cc

That's a curious reply, Domenic. Not necessary for you to make any comment unless you feel the urge. I suppose one might have said:
a)Thanks for that, it got me thinking.
b) You could have made it better, if only you had...
c) What a sentimental bunch of mush.
d) No cancer sufferer would have been in for 3 kilometre portages.

You would be interested to know that the story was sparked by a conversation with a friend. I had told him about the sudden passing of an acquaintance of mine this week. He was 2 years younger than I. A man of faith and good humour, often praying for healing for others. My friend responded with a story of a canoe trip buddy whose brother had had a radical faith experience, switched careers for the ministry and died just less than a year into his calling. Was this a waste? Not in God's eyes.

I have a couple of links for you:

http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.ca/2009/07/gone-on-before.html

http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.ca/2012/01/comfort-in-grief-to-lady-kenmure-1629.html

Thanks, Domenic, for such a gracious question for Doug. I am often not sure what posters need from me either, so I often just try to tell them what I liked about their work. Perhaps sometimes it might be a pretty good idea just to ask.

Anyhow, Doug, I think I'll go with item "b)" on your list since short stories are what I like to write. I think this story would be a home-run if you break up Pete's ending dialog a bit by adding some descriptive details such as: what Brent's reactions were, what their environment was like, etc. It might help to make the reader feel a little less preached at, yet still get the message. It's just a thought, but even if you do not follow the suggestion, I love the story, especially that final line. Nice touch.

Thanks for the input. You will note the change bracketed toward the end of the piece...and thanks Domenic for getting us going...Doug

Some very nice changes. You brought me into the story with them.

cc

cc

Certainly NO offence was taken. We creative people know that a piece of the imagination or of the heart is a gift from God. We cannot claim title to it or jealously guard it. It is a gift! God is the proprietor. He can withdraw it as well for His sovereign purposes. When the "dry spells" come we are humbled and reminded of this. I knew that you meant only good as you offered to comment. A collaborative project will usually be a better one.

Pride is that ugly dark horse I struggle to keep at the far end of the pasture. I hope that my reply didn't come as a "punch-back".

This thread has become an interesting example of community at work, together, and taking no offence, to see something worthwhile accomplished through the collaboration. It gets me back to my favoured image of a couple of friends wandering the seashore for beautiful shells. When one is discovered, both rejoice through their common interest. No jealousy. No territory claimed. Just a discovery.

Who will be next?

cc

That was given in the style of, and perhaps in the office of prophet. Thank you.

2 Timothy 4: 2

cc

You are right Domenic. Compelling personalities have it all over evergreen trees:)
I will remember that for future contributions. Earlier in this thread I mentioned that the story had come out of a conversation with a friend about a sudden death. Both of us have been "north-woods" guys when given the chance. I have shared the Good News in many ways with this fellow. He has come heroically through pancreatic cancer. Many prayed for him several years ago, including myself.

For me, in this case, the "hook" was the canoe trip. Keeping him in remembrance of the Life starting now and never ending...Doug

I posted something I wanted you to read Doug. I can't find it, and I don't know how. Do you?

Domenic, was it here or in a private message or in one of your book portions?

Doug Blair wrote:

Domenic, was it here or in a private message or in one of your book portions?

No, not a pm, or the fiction section. I thought I posted it in one of the sections you could post things that would not fit in other sections...but I can/t find it.
Can we make a thread where we can talk?

Click on "Users" at the top of the screen and find your username in the list of users.

Click on your username and select the "statistics" tab at the top.

You'll see an option where you can choose "Find all messages posted by Domenic."

This will bring up a list of everything you've posted. At the top of each of them, you'll see where you have posted each one.

I hope that helps.

If you wish to talk in real time, scroll down to the bottom of the website and you'll see a chat box. If you're both logged in, you'll be able to use it. Just click "log in" at the top of the box. There is nothing else needed to log in to it.

I don't see a chat box

It's not on the same web page as any of the threads. You have to be on the forum web page or the home page:

http://www.christiancreativewriters.com/forum

http://www.christiancreativewriters.com/

Thank you..join us?

I'm moving to the chat room

Sure, see ya there

Youi were there, and went away. Did not see Doug

It's 6: 50 here in Northern CA. I'll be back on at 7"15