by Dan Edmund
Chapter 27 - Ever Onwards
Already several people of the village of Tranquil were milling towards us as we glided our canoes onto the river's bank. Like anywhere else in this beautiful world, we were literally welcomed with affectionate hugs and kisses. Carlos had been here many times, my parents only once, and I never at all. However, that made no difference in a world where everybody was treated as family.
Tranquil also looked very similar to Deer Park. It too had natural settings of trees, shrubs, flowers, lawns, and vegetable plots. Likewise, the simple yet attractive wooden houses blended perfectly into their environment. As in all villages in Paradise, Tranquil also had its own Anastasis type mountain looming in its background, as well as its own worship and fellowship halls, the latter where we dined that night, amidst much laughter and fine food. As in Deer Park, Tranquil was also still gripped with ecstasy due to last night's incredible celestial vision. Although nobody in Tranquil had been resurrected, they nevertheless rejoiced with us when we had told them of the news that five had been in Deer Park. However, when we had also told them of the resurrection of someone within the Wilderness, and our mission there, they were understandably confused, as they had been in our village. Carlos thus also gave them a somewhat censored version of events, which was likewise readily accepted, even though not completely understood.
Early the next morning we left the shores of Tranquil, with most of the community waving us farewell. A few moments later we were around the river's bend, out of view and once again on our own. We basked in the glorious sunshine and in our own inner glow of content. I paddled now like a well-seasoned canoeist, keeping up with Carlos as we paddled with near perfect synchronization. Yet, even more amazing to me, was the peace I still felt.
Soon the open grasslands on the shore started to give way to woodlands, dabbled here and there in irregular clusters of pine, oak and - seemingly incongruously - eucalyptus trees. They, naturally enough, reminded me of my Australian friend. I smiled at the irony of our missions: he was going with his guide, and actual PhD subject, in search of the person that had given him life; I was going with my parents, who had given me life, in search of the person that had given me death. I then started thinking back to my own childhood, and the tender relationship I had always enjoyed with Mum. I then thought of Jenny, then of my music, then smiled at the fact that neither Carlos nor I had brought our guitars. I suppose there were now more important matters on our minds. Still, for a little while, I allowed myself the luxury of at least listening internally to the beautiful music of Bach. Suddenly, a screech of a parrot brought me out of my reveries; yet not out of my world of tranquility. I again smelt the distinct aroma of eucalyptus, and felt the cool refreshing breeze and the sun's pleasant warmth. Then, again, I replayed within my mind, Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.
Later that day, as the sun dipped into another blaze of sparkling colors, we reached the village of Peace. Here the river forked, with the Deer still meandering gently eastwards, whilst a narrower, swifter tributary veered north towards the Wilderness. The village of Peace was smaller than either Deer Park or Tranquil, and the ten or so homes that constituted the community were scattered irregularly on a wooded hill that nestled between the two rivers. Towards the north, we saw the mountains of the Wilderness, which even from this great distance looked awesome - soaring monuments that clearly bespoke of the grandeur of God's creation.
Peace welcomed us as warmly as Tranquil, and their jubilation of the recent vision was just as vibrant, as was surprisingly our mission to the Wilderness. Although again nobody had been resurrected in Peace's own Holy Mountain, they all knew of Ron Bristol's resurrection, and even exulted in that fact.
"Why is that?" I asked, perplexed by their enthusiasm.
"Because we've heard so much about him," somebody replied, pointing towards a giant figure of a man that was at the back of the crowd. He was at least six foot six inches tall, with a physique of a heavyweight prizefighter, which I soon learnt he had been before becoming a police officer. However, his intimidating stature was completely nullified by his huge smile and his arms stretched wide-open as he made his way towards us. "George Patterson is the name! And I've been expecting you."
Carlos's eyes opened wide. "Ah, you're the person I've been told to meet! So, you know this person called Ron?"
George gave a deep and hearty laugh. "Ron Bristol? I sure do!" Although I was from a different generation, I knew this kid from way back. You know, we came from the same tough neighborhood, and he was living in the same precinct when I was with the NYPD." George spoke with a distinctive Harlem accent, in a manner that indicated that he himself had also been resurrected not so long ago.
"Then obviously you also knew that he murdered me!" I exclaimed, barely hiding my animosity.
George gravely nodded. "Yeah, I knew he'd kill someone, but I didn't know it was you. Hey, brother, I'm sorry!"
I recalled the prayer that had given me so much strength and solace a couple of nights ago, and immediately felt its power once more. "No, it's okay!" I replied.
"So, how did you know Ron was resurrected?" Carlos asked. "Where you told by -"
"No, I actually saw him."
Again, somewhat surprised that the resurrection news was not channeled via the local village mentor, Carlos asked, "You saw him?"
"Yeah, within the Light. I saw him standing alone in this misty mountain, and I just knew that he was somewhere over there," he said, pointing towards the direction of the Wilderness.
Now I was the one surprised. "That's also how I saw him. Did he seem like, well, like morbid?"
"Hey, brother, I could feel his sorrow!" He then waved a giant hand towards the village. "Hey, why don't you four come over to my house? We got so much to talk about."
At his home, we met his wife, Flo. She also was Afro-American, and only a few inches shorter than he. However, unlike George, she did not have that same strong Harlem accent. Rather, her speech and grammar were impeccable. I later discovered that she came from a middle-class family in Hamilton Heights, and had been a psychology graduate from Columbia.
Then, after all the introductions and formalities were over, I beckoned George for more information about Ron Bristol.
From his lively description, I learnt that he had not actually seen me killed, however, he had seen him shot by the police the same way I had seen it in my vision. George then went on to explain that within his vision, he had also received instructions about having to wait for us in order to join our party to the Wilderness. "I was also told," he explained, "that up on Mount Eleos, there would be a home made for us in a cave, and then, man-o-man, I actually saw inside this cave, that it was done up for us like inside a house. From this cave, I then saw a trail leading through the mist and up to the top of the mountain where Ron lives. And, man, it's a real dump! Then I was told to help this guy." He paused and flashed a smile, showing a row of gleaming, white teeth. "You know, I've already been with Flo to the Wilderness a couple of times, including to the foot of that mountain, but we didn't climb it. Looks like we're goin to do it now. Lookin forward to it, even to help this poor mixed up kid I knew. God knows, I owe it to him!" He suddenly paused, then looked at me. "I'm sorry. I seem to be doin all the talkin. I'd like to know what you saw."
I then related my Divine Light visions, with all its gory details.
"Wow, that's sure some experience!" he said. "It even beats mine. It also shows you must have a lot of forgiveness and kindness, as well as a lot of guts!"
I smiled ruefully. "No, not really. It took a miracle for me to come. To tell you the truth, I find it hard to forget that he murdered me."
George placed a consoling hand on my shoulder. "And I've got a confession to make myself. Although he don't know it, I'm one of the cops who shot him!"