Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Valley of Search

This is a story that I wrote last year. It is one of the stories that follow the theme of the Seven Valleys. I remember my American Grandfather telling me that I had a little brother (I was 18 months when he was born). Other than that I do not remember much of him as he passed away before I was five years old. My Persian Grandfather never met me. I was to be named Shahab at first, he objected. His neighbors were the Fatazams and the name of the father of the family was Shahab. He said that he would be seeing his neighber each time he thougth of me. They settled on Shiidon, which happend to be the son, Shidan Fatazam. My father liked it as well as his name is Don and in someway it would be a carrying on the name of Don which was his fathers name as well. In a nutshell, this is not a story of me and my grandfathers. I hope you enjoy it.

Valley of Search

There was a time when one would look upon an elder without the respect that is due their long and illustrious life. Those were the days of turmoil and trouble, the days of the Formative Age of this New Day. As i look back upon the influence that others have had in my life, my grandfather is first and foremost behind those of my mother and father. i recall another precious moment that I had with him, when he was resting after a day filled with much activity. i had just returned from school and was perplexed on the new subject that we were embarking on.
My grandfather was sitting on the divan, near the window and watching the humming birds floating to the feeder and flying away across the creek. He seemed to be at peace and deep in thought. On his lap sat a thick and worn book. My grandfather was apt to carry a book with him wherever he went. Whenever there was a time of rest he could be seen either conversing with others or reading his book in some corner. The books, i must say, never interfered with his interactions with others. He never placed an object ahead of another. Such was the case on that day when i respectfully approached him and asked him one of the many questions i would ask him in our lives together.

“Grandfather, we are about to study a subject that i don’t quite understand.”
He turned and smiled as he recognized my face and, looking deep into my eyes, he responded:

“What would that subject be?”

My grandfather knew that my questions were usually not about math or science nor on other earthly subjects. My questions were more of the spirit. This was one of them.

“In school we are studying the Seven Valleys. The Valley we are to study next is the Valley of Search.”

He patiently waited as i continued. “i do not understand why there is a valley called search?”
i watched as he meditated on my question. He never rushed to answer and i always waited patiently for the wisdom of his years to come into play.

“What does search mean to you my child?” He asked.
He was always prone to ask me questions as the method of coming to the answer to my questions.

“Searching is to look something up or to find something.” i answered.

“If i asked you to find something in your room, what would you do in response?” He asked me.

“i would go to my room and look for it until i had found it.” i answered quickly. His pausing and my rushing to answer was a reflection of our ages.

“You would find something that you had placed for yourself and may or may not know immediately where it is.” He paused. “What if i asked you to find an object that i had placed in the garden,” which he indicated with his hand.

“Why i would search for it,” was my immediate reply, being so proud to use this word of topic. i saw him smile and realized that there was more to his question than i had given thought to. “But it would not be as easy, “ was my tentative reply, “because it is something that you had placed there and not i.”

He sat back for a moment and our eyes met, those glorious and aged orbs of wisdom that I cherished so much.

“You are beginning to see,” he responded, “that there is more depth to this word search than you first thought.”

I reflected on this and then ventured a question. “What is there beyond this looking for things?”
He stood up, reached for my hand and then led me to the door. We walked outside and looked at the trees, the creek and the birds and other creatures enjoying their day.

“This land we are in was once unknown,” he stated as his arm swept over the gardens and forest behind our house. “ It was on a journey, a long time ago, when this land was discovered. It was not the end of the journey or search but a part of it. Whether or not the end of the goal was reached, the knowledge and discovery of that search was great.”

He waited to make sure i was paying attention. “To search is to look and to look is to find, however, what we end up finding is not always the object that we are looking for. It is the result of the search that we are embarking on that ends up bearing fruit.”

“Grandfather,” i asked. “When i can’t find something i am looking for i am not happy.”
He sat in the grass and, facing the creek seemed to be deep in thought. He reminded me at that time of the creek itself. He was always there when i needed him and he was always giving when i needed it. i sat down beside him and waited while listening to the beautiful birds.

He turned to me and started speaking in a very purposeful voice. “Little one,” he asked. “What was one of the first things you learned in school about God?”

Seeing the seriousness of his tone i took a moment to reply. i thought about what we were talking about and his question. “To know and to Love God?” I answered hesitantly.

“What do we know about knowing God?” he responded to me smiling.

“That we can never know God,” was my immediate reply.
Then the realization started to come to me. We are on a journey, a search for something that we will never find. Our lives are lived going through a process and we grow and learn from it. My grandfather saw the look of understanding on my face and smiled one of those warm and embracing smiles that i can still picture in my mind.

“Grandfather,” i said. “You know so much!”

He smiled and replied. “Dear one, i truly know nothing.” He paused and then continued. “We go through life learning many things, patience being one of them. What we learn as the years grow on is that the more we learn the less we realize that we know.”

“We are at the beginning of a glorious journey to know and love God, this life is the foundation for our journey, “ he finally answered.

This man i loved so much, this blessed soul. i could not resist any longer and leaped into his arms, nearly knocking him over. i knew at that time that one day he would not be on this earth, but i also felt that he would always be with me. To this day, i reflect on the many conversations we have had and on many occasions i can still hear his voice imparting his wisdom upon me. The tears upon my cheeks now are as real as those on that dear morning on the grass on that spring day.

Shiidon, March 25, 2007

1 Comments:

Blogger Aniela said...

Our dearest Shiidon,

To graduate from Book 3, we had to teach a children's class. . . it was great as I used this story to enable the children to understand what a high station they were being called to . . . to search for their Creator. You gave these stories to us in one of our tutor gatherings 5 or 6 years ago. I cherish them.

Anymore?

Love to you,
Aniela

7:54 AM  

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