The Story We Find Ourselves in by Brian McLaren

Author:Brian McLaren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SPCK

CHAPTER 21

Something Special, Something Holy

IT WAS ABOUT NOON BY NOW. We weren’t able to get back to our conversation about atonement. We just continued floating downstream for a few minutes, each of us wrapped up in personal thoughts.

I looked at Neo and noticed how he was sweating, so I looked for a shady place to pull in for lunch. Up ahead, a stream entered the main channel of the river on the left, so I pulled into the mouth of the stream, where the current was slack. We took off our shoes, slid into the shin-deep water, and made it to shore with no mishaps. Kerry brought her cane, of course. While Carol and I spread out lunch under a huge sycamore tree, Kerry, her cane in one hand, and Neo, carefully keeping his bandaged arm dry, started skipping smooth rocks across the water. It brought back memories—memories of a tense conversation with Neo along this same stretch of river, memories of skipping rocks with Jess and Corey and Trent when they were younger, memories of doing the same with my dad as a boy. “Life is good, Lord,” I prayed. “Thanks for this good day.”

Just before we started eating, Neo waded back to the boat, climbed in, and brought out his backpack. He produced from inside it a bottle of wine. Kerry’s eyes grew wide. “That looks just like the bottle I brought to the bay that day on Santa Cruz—”

“The day we never got around to drinking it because of that nasty lump that ruined our day,” Neo broke in, smiling. “I kept it, hoping that a day like today would come.”

“Well, all I’ve got is paper cups,” Carol said. “Can we drink wine from paper cups? Remember, I’m a Baptist girl. I don’t know about these things. I’m being corrupted by Episcopalians.”

“And Australians,” Kerry added. “Look at the label—it’s Australian wine.” We all laughed.

The meal was delicious. Our friend the eagle flew back overhead, moving upstream this time. I looked over at Kerry, who had moved out from under the tree into the full sunlight, near the water. She lay back on the flat rocks, her eyes closed, her hands cradling her head, her chest, flat under her T-shirt, rising and falling with slow, deep breaths, her legs extended. She may have been dozing for a few minutes. Then she slowly sat up and saw me watching her. She smiled. “I feel like a marine iguana basking on the black rocks of Fernandina,” she said. “Or like a giant tortoise on the slopes of Isabela. This day is just what I needed. I feel alive again.”

As Carol began cleaning up, Neo said, “Just a minute. We have wine, and we have some raisin bread there. Daniel, could we … would you do the honors?”

Kerry realized what Neo meant before I did. She moved to face us again. “Hold on. Let me ask a question first,” she said. “How much do you have to believe in Jesus in order to take communion? I mean, I’d like to be part of this.

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