Random Details

It began with a collection of random details: a faun, an umbrella, a sledge, and a lion (whom he first encountered in a nightmare). From them, C. S. Lewis began to tell a story that became The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. He did not set out to tell a story to explain Christianity, as I once thought. Instead, he told a story and through that story, through the random details, people have heard the story that is beyond, or beneath, all stories.

I found this information about the creation of a book I love fascinating. It did not take away from the power of the story. In fact, it added to it.

As much as our egos would love to have us believe we are the masters of our destinies, the authors of our lives, I believe, in the end, our lives are a series of random details. That is not to say they are meaningless. Quite the opposite. What I learned about C. S. Lewis and the writing of his classic tale is that through random details can come a story of profound meaning. Through our stories we can see and hear another story, the story that is beyond, or beneath, all stories.

Many mornings, I attend a meeting where those in attendance share details from their lives. On the surface, they can sound random, sordid, and far from what we sometimes call “sacred.” And yet, from those random details, out of the stories, one can hear another story, a story of forgiveness, undeserved love, grace and genuine humility. When it happens, it’s beyond inspirational.

What’s so moving, though, is not the random details, but the story that comes from them, through them. Fauns, umbrellas, sledges and lions can become so much more. So can DWI’s, lost jobs , and broken relationships. So can a phone call, written note, and a chicken pot pie. The ordinary can become extraordinary, much like bread and wine.

As I write this, sitting on the patio of my studio enjoying a beautiful fall morning, I hear a gentle breeze swirling around me. Looking up, I see that what I hear is not the wind but the sound of the leaves as the wind blows through them. Perhaps that’s what happened when C. S. Lewis wrote his story. Maybe that’s what happens as we live our lives.