A day has come and gone. The giant is beside me and we are sitting together in the clearing. He says that the magpies have brought a message that there will be an assembly tonight. He hugs his knees and rocks himself, humming softly a rumbling tune. There is a eagerness in his presence that is hard to miss.
“What will happen at the assembly?” I ask him.
“We shall see, we shall. “ he replies.
“Couldn’t you give me a hint?” I find my impatience rising, again. Seems I never quite learn.
“A hint? I just told you what will happen – we will see. Really see. We will know what is to be done. We will see the Lion. Really see him. With our own eyes.”
“Have you never seen him?” His eagerness reminds me of a child, ready to open a gift.
“Not till tonight.” He closes his eyes to get a bit closer to the coming moment. I close my eyes as well and listen to his rumbling melody. At first is sounded rather clumsy, but when I let myself relax into it, a hidden majesty is evident – a majesty born, not of titles and honors and acclaim, but of humble service done with dedication. His simple faith is pure and strong, much less complicated than my own, or so it seems.
Eyes closed, I lean back into the rumbling melody as if into a chair. It holds me up, comforts me, builds me.
“Thank you for the tune,” I say aloud.
“I learned it from the mountains,” comes his reply. “The waterfall at Deista sings it, too.”
It starts to hum itself within my heart and wakens emotions that lie dormant there. Wonder, awe, excitement and solemn ecstasy compete to fill my heart. I sit beside the giant and begin to weep.
He looks at me with a knowing smile. His eyes are also damp. “When He begins to play his tunes within your heart, it stretches you, it does, until you ache with joy. He must make room, you know. He is coming.”