Brian and Christine
But for now his task was to try describing this girl who emerged from the snow one day as some winter ice angel, helpless but courageous, innocent yet resourceful with hope and faith while standing up against all the destructive forces of the world. He named her Crystal.
His fingers were not flying now, as the usually do, across the keyboard, but were carefully picking from his mind the exact words to narrate a mystical tale of a heroic child. Each word seemed to be an integer in a vast equation, one which would define the landscape and horizon of existence.
This was no film script or biography. Nor was it the summation of survival from a life threatening situation. It was a blessed opening of a door into actual life through the impulse and guidance of his creative ability as an artist to uncover the hidden truth of what happens when we say yes to life. This was a healing of the pain by denouncing it’s reality. Instead of carrying her to safety through the sleet, he was now carrying in his mind the real life of a magical child into the safety of words the world must read.
He knew he was writing about a child, the only child in his life, a child he may never see again. It was hard and painful. Bur Brian once said “We are the only two people in this frozen universe. I am now all the wise old men in the world and she is all the young innocent girls in the world and it is my responsibility to see that she survives.” And “I will keep going and see her to safety and stay alive until I do it. Then he said softly, “Christy, we’re gonna make it.”
There was much to do, much to learn, much to be written and still much life to be lived.
He returned to the keyboard, a deep sea fisherman, casting his net and hoping for the right ideas to visit him.
That afternoon Wendy called to say that it looked good for a hearing to determine adopting Christy. The judge seemed disposed to at least hear what the parties had to say about it. What it needs now is a court date and Tom is pushing for an early one, sometime next week.
“I’m very anxious” said Brian. “If the judge decides in favor of Saint Jane’s we may never see Christy again.”
“Don’t lose hope, Brian. Talk to the wolves.”
(To be continued.)