Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting top and whispered, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send help now.” The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little -a very, very little- better. “After all, nothing has really happened to us yet,” she thought.

“Look!” cried Rynelf’s voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by a searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.

Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like  a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong sweet voice what seemed to be words though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose, and began to fly slowly ahead, bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, “Courage, dear heart,” and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.

-CS Lewis

I remembered this moment as I was driving with my children to the library and saw the first dark purple of the  redbuds. It happens every year. Just when winter has lasted one day short of forever, just when I’m ready to give up and be a depressed old hag…. the redbuds.

They don’t immediately alter the surrounding darkness of our hills, but they don’t lie.

The end is in sight.


About ruthie.voth

Wife of one, mother of four, friend of many. Lover of details, color, good conversations, finding balance, and being honest. Passionate lover of a well-crafted sentence - even more so if it's witty. Weird blend of cynical optimist. I'm the worst kind of woman. I'm high maintenance, but I think I'm low maintenance. Somehow, people still love me. Must be grace.
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4 Responses to -arriving-

  1. Amy says:

    You make me smile. Philip has the same sentiments toward the redbud trees. There’s just something about seeing that speck of life & the hope of spring that it brings. But mainly his excitement stems from the honey the bees will produce with the blooms that follow. I’m just not sure you share the same passion for beekeeping that he does. 😉


    • ten4ruthie says:

      You’re right. I don’t share that passion for beekeeping. I don’t mind the extracting or cleaning up the mess afterwards. (I know – you don’t believe that last part, but it’s true. I like creating a clean world.) I’ll never understand why those boys like to put on a sweaty white suit and mess around with stinging insects.


  2. Rachel Wissink says:

    As I take Elliot for walks, I tend to return to the routes that have blooming trees like redbuds and ? whatever the other pinkish blooming trees are. There is just something about that beautiful purple against the branches that is striking. Mostly I keep thinking about how to replicate this as a house decoration.


    • ten4ruthie says:

      A house decoration! If you come up with something wonderful, share it with us. Do you mean the colors? Or the branchy, blossomy look? My sister-in-law Danielle got a big branchy tree branch and mounted it on the wall above her bed. So cool. It’s beautiful on its own – or you could do so many colorful decorative things with it too.


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