Answers

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

My grandmother said that I had enough questions to fill the universe. I have often wished that I had as many answers as I have questions. I have discovered that with patience some answers flow naturally. That’s what I am looking for today, answers.

I called my brother Bill and asked, “Had any dreams lately?” “Yes,” he replied. After a pause I said, “Want to hear about my dream?” “Sure,” he said with some hesitation in his voice. I could just imagine him glancing at his watch and wondering how long this little adventure was going to take. With his permission the tale began.

Dad and I were traveling along the old Kilgore highway just west of Longview, Texas. He was driving and we were in my ’76 black jeep with the top and doors off. Dad was in a nostalgic mood because I was leaving the following day. He was determined to show me something before I left. I quizzed him about our destination but it was useless. He just smiled and said, “We’ll be there soon enough, then you’ll see for yourself.”

I looked over and there was a mischievous smile on his face; that same smile that I had grown so fond of over the years. Tomorrow I would miss that smile, his upbeat attitude and just the opportunity to spend time with him. Without signaling, he abruptly turned off onto a narrow dirt road. It was more of a trail than a road because it couldn’t be more than ten feet wide. There were tall trees bordering either side of the road and although it was nothing more than graded dirt, the road was as smooth as fresh laid asphalt.

We traveled only a few hundred feet when we emerged into a beautiful meadow. The grass was as green as I had ever seen and it was perfectly manicured. Dad stopped the jeep, turned off the engine and asked, “Well, what do you think?” The sight was so beautiful and peaceful it almost took my breath away. I climbed out of the jeep but hesitated because I didn’t want to step on the lush green grass in front of me. Dad said, “Go ahead son, you won’t hurt the grass. You won’t even leave any footprints.” As I walked out into the meadow and looked back I saw that dad was right. The grass was like a soft plush carpet yet there was no evidence of my footprints.

A light breeze cooled my face as I looked around and absorbed all the beauties of nature. As I glanced back at dad he had an “I told you so” look on his face yet he had told me nothing in advance of our arrival. He smiled as I pointed and marveled at the incomparable beauty of everything in the meadow. I knew that dad was sharing with me something that was very precious to him. “How did you ever find this place?” I asked. “I didn’t find it. It found me,” he said. “What does that mean?” I asked. “It means that the answer to your question will come on its own,” he stated. I shrugged my shoulders knowing that it was futile to think I could pry an answer out of him that he was not willing or possibly not permitted to share.

Dad and I walked down a gentle slope until we came to a waterfall. Below the waterfall was an oval shaped pool that gradually narrowed into a streambed that carried the water beyond my vision. The water in the pool was so clear it was difficult to detect where the water stopped and the air above the pool began. The bottom of the pool was visible. You could see all the vegetation and marine life living within the water. Dad pointed to fishing poles lying in the grass and said, “Let’s go fishing.” The poles were for fly-fishing and I had no experience using this type of equipment. Hand tied flies had already been placed on the lines of the poles and the opportunity proved irresistible. Dad said, “Don’t worry about your lack of training. Just focus on the spot you want the fly to land and give it a cast.” I did as he instructed and sure enough, the fly landed in the exact spot each time. There were plenty of fish in the pool but neither of us got a nibble. I thought we should try a different fly. When I suggested this idea to dad he looked at me with puzzlement and asked, “Are you hungry?” “No,” I said, “but why are we fishing if not to catch fish?” “I thought it would help you relax. You seem a little nervous,” dad said. “I am nervous. We are on someone else’s property using their fishing poles without permission,” I said.

“Well, don’t worry about permission. But if you are hungry just tell one of the fish to get on your line and it will obey you. They know and accept their purpose for being here,” he said. “I’m not hungry and if I were I wouldn’t kill and eat a fish that could understand and obey me,” I said. “Would you rather eat a fish that can’t understand you?” asked dad. “Am I really having this conversation?” I thought. I sat my pole down and walked up the bank toward the jeep but the jeep wasn’t where we had left it. As I turned to call out to dad and tell him about the jeep I noticed a beautiful wooden dining room table displaying all manner of fruits and vegetables. The table, surrounded by comfortable chairs, was resting on a naturally formed slab of stone. The stone floor had been chiseled and placed there by nature and not by the hands of man.

I called out to dad to come have something to eat. While continuing to fish, he turned his head and said, “I thought you weren’t hungry”. I wasn’t hungry but I couldn’t resist the bowl of ripe peaches that caught my attention. I bit into one and it was the best peach I had ever tasted. Words cannot describe nor do justice to the flavor and sweetness I experienced. Juice trickled down my chin as I bit into the peach. I wanted dad to come and enjoy a peach with me. Then I remembered that peaches weren’t one of his favorite fruits. Before returning to his fishing, dad pointed in another direction and motioned for me to look.

What I saw bewildered me. There in the meadow was a bed all made up with a fluffy down comforter and throw pillows. It looked oddly familiar. As I drew closer, I realized that it was my favorite bed, the bed that is in my daughter’s room. While standing there by the bed, I was startled by a voice from behind me saying, “Lie down and rest if you like”. I spun around and came face to face with a man and woman about my own age. With the unfinished peach still in my hand I began to apologize for being there uninvited, for using their fishing gear and eating their food. “Oh, you were invited or you wouldn’t be here,” said the woman. “We knew you were coming and chose to give you time alone to adjust to the surroundings before intruding on your peaceful experience,” replied the man. They both looked vaguely familiar but their names rang no bell of recollection. “Go ahead and rest for a while,” said the woman. “I wouldn’t want to mess up such a beautiful comforter,” I said. “You can’t hurt this bed anymore than you have hurt the grass you have been walking on.” she replied. Looking down at the grass, I remembered that my footprints vanished almost as quickly as they had formed from my shoes. “And as for the fruit you have eaten you will notice that it has already been replaced,” said the man. In astonishment, I looked back at the dining table and the bowl of peaches was perfectly arranged with no missing fruit.

Shaking my head I tried to clear my thoughts. I was in a place where animals understood and obeyed, where there was an abundance of food that replenished itself and no one cared if I laid down and rested on top of a down filled comforter. The only thing I was missing was the old stuffed rabbit I propped up between the pillows of that bed. The woman gesturing with a pointed finger showed me that stuffed rabbit snuggled up between the pillows.

With a half laugh I said, “I better be careful what I wish for”. Without hesitation the man said, “Well spoken”. Then he showed me the most emaciated lion I have ever seen in my life. His body was shriveled and his hair had fallen out from malnutrition. Even with an abundance of food all around, he was too weak and old to eat. He was gradually starving to death. “Why don’t you put him out of his misery?” I asked. “That is not the lion’s wish,” said the man. “Why don’t you take him where he can get help?” I asked. “Because that is not the lion’s wish,” he said, emphasizing the word wish. “It was your dad’s wish that you have the opportunity to come and experience this place,” said the woman. “Aren’t you glad his wish was granted?”

Glancing back toward the pool at the bottom of the meadow, I said, “Why does dad continue to fish if he isn’t hungry and isn’t going to catch anything?” “Your dad isn’t fishing, he isn’t even down there. You see him there because you feel safer with him there. He left when you walked away from the pool. He will rejoin you when you are ready to leave,” she explained. “Here he comes now,” said the man, as he pointed to the jeep that hadn’t been there just a moment ago. Dad slid out from under the steering wheel and walked around to the front of the jeep. Leaning back against the hood, he smiled that familiar broad smile and I knew it was time to leave. I was leaving with more questions than answers but a peaceful feeling swam around me and it was okay.

It was just a dream but I can still close my eyes and feel that same peace that I felt while visiting that meadow. Where is your peaceful place? How easy is it to get there in your mind? Many questions will not have answers in mortality. I have no answers concerning this dream. Sometimes peace is more important than answers.