A Fool In Paradise Pt 2

Not long afterwards, I walked out onto Ivestor Gap and my heart leaped for joy. I’m not sure what it was about the place—the bald slopes that gave a 180-degree panorama of the mountains, the sense of being far from civilization, or simply the setting of blue-green vistas, bald mountain tops, and small woods—but I was completely unprepared for its effect on me. My heart felt lighter and I skipped about like a young child or an old fool. Several times, I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. I was filled with pure delight.

Soon, I discovered more balds—Tennent Mountain and Black Balsam Knob—with even better vistas. Despite some serious climbs for an out-of-shape priest, I skipped along the path in utter rapture, spooking, I must add, not a few birds and rabbits. I could feel months of stress pouring out of my muscles, and something long dormant in me began to awaken. Had anyone been around to see me, I’m sure he or she would have turned around to flee this obvious lunatic. But I didn’t care; delight had me completely in its grip.

There have not been many times that I have been filled so powerfully with delight. A few times come immediately to mind—the moment my bride appeared on the far end of the church aisle (though with less skipping on my part), the birth of my son, my discovery (believe it or not) of the sermons of Lancelot Andrewes, and a blessed moment when upon giving final communion I experienced the sweet passing of a man long afflicted with Parkinson’s Disease—and I am sure there are more, which further reflection would bring to mind. They’re rare and precious moments when I have felt a deep connection to God’s good creation, with those whom I love, and ultimately with God Himself. It’s at these moments that I often recall C.S. Lewis’ description of delight: “Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.”[1] They’re moments when the world feels very real and solid. More importantly, they’re moments when God seems close.

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[1] Letters to Malcolm, p. 90 (ch. 17)