Wednesday 18 November 2020

Talking round the fire

 They never imagined so many days would go by with no sign of the lost Granny. They thought she would be just nearby, somewhere down the track. Maybe she had been picking mushrooms and got left behind, or sat down for a snooze and not know which way everyone else had gone when she woke up. But the sun went down . . . and rose . . . and set . . . over many days, with no sign of the Great Bear or Yūgen or George Fox or the Anawim men — and no lost Granny.

While they were waiting — Danshari and Hanafubuki and the Anawim mother and children — they spun out the time in conversation.

The Anawim children practised saying "Danshari" and "Hanafubuki", and the lion and the unicorn tried Haffenhaff milk in their tea — it was nice.

When you meet someone new, you start with finding out who they are. And then you learn about where they have come from, and what they like and what they do.

This is what Danshari and Hanafubuki learned.

The Anawim mother's name was Sophia. Their father — away searching for the lost Granny — was called Kanso. The Grandad's name was Ananda.

"What was your Granny's name, again?", asked Hanafubuki.

"She is called Shanti," said Sophia.

And then of course all the children had names as well, but I don't want you to drown in new names!

There's Danshari (you know him)





Hanafubuki






Ebenezer





Sophia (chatting to Danshari)




Kanso





Ananda (with his grandson Hineni).




And the lost Granny is Shanti.

Can you manage a couple more?

In the picture with Kanso are his twins, Wabi and Sabi. You mostly find them together.

Here they are with Danshari and Hineni, sitting by the fire.




What a lot of new names to take in! And of course, Wabi and Sabi and Hineni had four sisters as well! Perhaps we'd better leave them for next time.

By the way — when the evening came, the day the Anawim arrived in the garden, after Danshari had lit the fire and they were all sitting round it, eventually Irusu crept in to sit with them. 




They just let her come back. They didn't say anything. Sometimes it's better not to.




To her surprise, Irusu found it was okay, sitting talking with the Anawim. She liked them. They were quiet and kind, with soft voices — not overwhelming at all.

She listened carefully, with Danshari and Ebenezer and Hanafubuki, to the story of their travels — which had been long and dangerous and full of adventure. When she heard all that had happened to them, Irusu began to feel really glad they had found this safe and peaceful place beside the fire. She began to hope the lost Granny would soon be found, so they could all come home safely, and be part of the family.






4 comments:

The Rev. Susan Creighton said...

Pen, I'm loving this story--it is so sweet, and just what we need in this dark winter of coronavirus.

I especially love Haffenhaf! Although I have to brag a little that many years ago, one of my red-and-white Hereford beef cattle produced a quart of milk that was 80% cream! It was too rich for her new calf, but my father loved it in his coffee!

I look forward to the next chapters!

Pen Wilcock said...

Thank you, friend.

All our lives long we need truth and with it kindness, but when times are worrying and uncertain, we need it more as rice pudding with honey and nutmeg than as strips of dried buffalo seasoned with chilli. Or, to put it another way, sometimes we need a candle-lantern more than a military search light — a nightlight that will comfort us as we fall asleep.

I do hope all is well with you. I am conscious of your health struggles, and that even though you are called to live in the solitude of your anchor hold, you cannot be immune to weariness and apprehension. But this I also know — Jesus is with you.
xx

Julie B. said...

I am also enjoying your story. I love Haffenhaff and am having a hard time saying goodbye to it. Thank you for your kindness, Ember. xoxo

Pen Wilcock said...

Waving to you, my dear friend! Have you stopped having Haffenhaff milk in your tea? xx