…but there is more to the story…
(if you’re not sure what story I’m talking about you’ll need to
go back and read “A Tale of Two Churches (PART I)”)
At the same time that the first group set out for the proverbial
greener pastures, a second group, several days-journey north, also set
out. For some strange reason, this group
decided that they would first commit themselves to each other. In other words, each person agreed that they
would do what was in the best interest of the community rather than self. They agreed that they would look out for each
other…
…to look after each other…
…to matter to each
other.
As they prepared they faced a significant amount of ridicule. Neighbours couldn’t understand why anyone
would commit to travel with “that poor family from the other side of the creek”,
family members who said “You’d be better off if you left Uncle Ted behind,”
politicians upset that no one seemed to care for their advice.
The day they left was as miserable as any. Rain came down in sheets, turning the already
primitive roads into muddy rivers. They
didn’t get anywhere near as far as they had hoped but none of that dampened
their spirits. The evening was spent
running from covered wagon to covered wagon and the sound of their laughter
seemed to make music with the pit-a-pat of the rain.
The morning sunrise was spectacular… of course they always thought
that.
Don’t get me wrong, their journey saw more than its fair share
of danger, frustration and hardship. Somehow,
these things seemed to make them stronger both individually and as a
community. As issues arose, suggestions
were offered. At times there were
debates that went late into the night and sometimes voices were raised as one
person or the other sought to make their point.
However, because they had started with the conviction that no issue was
more important than a relationship, it was never long before they were
laughing, and caring, and sharing again.
Soon the weather signalled the inevitable changing of the
seasons and a community gathering was called in order to discuss what to do. There was no rule that stated only certain
individuals should talk, but it seemed to make sense to allow those who had the
experience and knowledge to be called upon.
When the suggestion was made that they stop travelling and prepare for
the winter it seemed so obvious the only questions were “When?” and “Where?”.
I’ll spare you the details of the journey. It was long, and difficult. There were shortages of food, unexpected
injuries, wild storms, freezing nights, blistering heat, strange illnesses and
yes, several folks died.
Of course there were also births, and birthdays, weddings and
anniversaries, they regularly stopped to share meals of thanks and even managed
a Christmas feast while they were enroute.
Finally, however they reached their destination.
Soon all the evening gatherings focussed on planning the layout
and the building of their town. What
buildings would go up first, where the roads would run, town square, market,
community centre and so forth. Most of
those decisions were logical. The most
heated conversations centred around what to name the town. Of course, there were several suggestions. And given that the subject matter was more
emotional than rational there was significant disagreement… some of it loud…
…but some inspired laughter.
In the end, it was decided that the issue was not that
important.
“Let's build.” they said.
Voices in turn said things like, “Let's
keep serving each other.”
“The name is something we can decide
later.”
“Maybe something will emerge as we go
along.”
As with their entire journey, it was clear that they were
committed not to the project…
…not to the idea of a town...
…not to the monetary
value of the right name…”
But to each other...
As a result every, and any, little or large thing that might
have torn them apart became nothing more, and nothing less than one more thing
to bind them together.
Anyone want to take a journey?
