No Ordinary Men – Part I
The day Alpha Male protested his entrance into this world with one very loud and very lusty cry, I, like all new fathers, experienced a complete and total shifting of the earth’s axis—intersecting right through me. If the women in the delivery room experienced it as well, the new mother included, they gave no indication of it. My assumption, now, is that what men as new fathers are overwhelmed with in that moment, they, the women, come into the world already remembering.
So, I was ushered out of the room and ordered to get something to eat for the first time in twelve hours, or they’d have two infants to look after. Besides, the henhouse fairly clucked as Motherhood and its sorority took command.
On my way to the hospital cafeteria I passed the chapel, and in the moment realized I had an appointment to keep. I was the only one there. The space was an enigma for all its calm in a building in constant motion. And suspiciously quiet. But it brimmed with God’s intention, so, slipping into the pew, I sat down. And waited.
I felt like Heaven’s Grand Jury sat watching me while I put my face in my hands and, for the first time, let the tears come, not altogether quietly.
I was petrified. All I knew was that I didn’t know. So all I could do was offer, “I promise to do my best to see him safely back Home.” And by this, meaning that I believed the child came through us, not from us. So, in spite of the beautiful and sobering assualt Life had just landed in me, I would make it my aim to guide him through the years to the day he could, of his own accord, freely give his own heart into a trusted friendship with God. At the moment, all other purposes paled. They still do.
And then the years unfolded.
One day, when Alpha Male was about a year old, he sat quietly in the car seat behind me while, parked, we waited for Cute Redhead to join us. I was watching him in the mirror. Just watching.
And he was watching me right back. Just watching.
I wondered what this one was made of and, having long lost track of why I surrender the expression when I wonder, raised my left eyebrow to mark the trail. And to match my question, or to mimic me (I don’t know which), young Alpha Male raised his left eyebrow to mark the trail as well.
I laughed on the outside. And then on the inside I cheered. I had a live one. I saw into him, and, perhaps, he into me. But best of all, I felt heaven lean a little closer to watch and see if I’d have the courage to do the Very Dangerous.
And here, by the Very Dangerous, is part of what I mean…
It was the summer of Arthur’s eleventh year, I believe, and there had been reports of renewed Irish raiding along the western coasts. Merlin wanted to discuss the situation with Tewdrig and Meurig, and see for himself how things stood. He had planned to go quietly alone. But once Arthur heard of it, he quickly included himself and Cai, and there was no gainsaying him. Since we could in no wise risk traveling with Arthur unprotected, it was decided that we would all make the journey together.
All went well until we reached Yr Widdfa. Upon seeing those great cold looming mounds of slate, Aruthur nearly fell off his horse in astonishment. “Look at that one! Have you ever seen a higher mountain? There is snow still on it!”
“It is a sight indeed,” agreed Merlin.
“Does it have a name? What is it?”
“It does. All this is Yr Widdfa, Region of Snows.” Merlin pointed to the highest peak. “The one you are gawking at is Eryri.”
“It is…” He searched for just the right words. “…enormous! Enormous and beautiful.” He gazed in wonder at it, filling his eyes with the sight. “Has anyone every climbed it?”
The question caught Merlin off guard. “I do not believe so,” he answered. “I do not think it possible.”
That was the wrong thing to say, certainly. “Good! Then I will be the first,” Arthur declared. He meant it, too. And he meant to begin at once. With a lash of the reigns, he rode toward the mountain.
Merlin made to call him back. But Cai intervened. “Please, Lord Emrys, I would like to climb it, too.”
“You, Cai?” Merlin turned and looked into the ruddy face. The clear green eyes held all the hope any one human creature can bear. To dash it would have been unthinkable. And Merlin saw that as much as Arthur wanted to climb the mountain, Cai wanted it more, but for a far different reason.
“Now, Caius, you cannot—” began Ectorius.
Merlin cut him short with a gesture. “Of course,” Merlin told him, “I think it is time this mountain was conquered. And you two are just the men to do it. Well, hurry or you will be left behind.” He waved Cai away, and the boy rode after Arthur.
“Do you think it wise?” asked Ectorius, watching his son with some apprehension. Long had he protected his son’s lame leg—the result of an accident and a poorly set bone when Cai was first learning to ride.
“No,” replied Merlin, “it is foolishness itself to let them go.”
“Then why—?”
Merlin smiled, lifting a hand to the mountain. “Because if we prevented them now they would never again risk the impossible with a whole and open heart.”
“Is that so important?”
“For ordinary men, no.” Merlin shook his head, watching the boys ride away. “But, Ector, we are not about making ordinary men.”
-Arthur, Book Three of the Pendragon Cycle, by Stephen Lawhead
This photo, one more time…
Yesterday, Alpha Male, summited his first Fourteener. Mount Princeton.
Remember that raised eyebrow I mentioned?
Aww…
Where is the little “thumbs up” so that I can “like” this, like on FB?
Good one, T
[...] a few steps within striking distance, set down in front of Cute Redhead the quotes already in Part I and in Part [...]
[...] won, so here’s the last installment of this series No Ordinary Men, with a final note at the end. In truth, I believe he had been listening for it most of the day and [...]