Still Checking Closets

I've been thinking lately about Narnia. Not the films, though I am irresistably drawn to them. Not the books, either, which I read aloud to my husband over three years of road trips. I'm talking about the place itself. But there's really more to it than that even.

When I'm reading about Narnia or thinking about it, riveted in my seat after the credits are rolling or lying in bed wishing my closet opened to magical lands, I am filled with longing for a place like that. For walking with the Lion of Judah and losing myself in His wild mane. For the place where my heart is at ease and time flies but stands still at the same time. For Home.

The Pevensie children were called to and drawn to and created for a magical land. And once they'd tasted of it, they couldn't be content in this world. Except for one.

"Sire," said Tirian, when he had greeted all these. "If I have read the chronicle aright, there should be another. Has not your Majesty two sisters? Where is Queen Susan?"
"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."
"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenver you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"
"Oh Susan!" said Jill. "She's interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."
"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."
--The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis

I do that. I waste my time wanting to be somewhere or something other than what I am. And in doing that, I miss what I'm called to, drawn to, and made for. Narnia may not be in the back of my closet, and I may visit only in my dreams. But there is something about it that I can keep alive within me. I am allowed to hope and dream for a place of my own and find it in Him.

"Created for a place/I've never known/This is home/Now I'm finally where I belong/. . . I've been searching for a place of my own/Now I've found it/This is home" (Switchfoot, "This is Home" from The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian)

My heart is not meant to live in this land. My heart wants to be Home. For me, now, it is a dream. A magical dream, but it is one that I can hold on to. It is one that I can share with other Narnia lovers and wishers and dreamers. Others who were made for more than this. Because in the end, even though Peter and Lucy and Edmund lived in this world, they longed for another. They held on to another. And one day, in the end, they were home to stay. "The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning." (Aslan, in The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis)

I don't know when my dream ends and my morning begins. There are days that I hope it is soon, and there are days that I hope I get to see my girls grow to love God and others and have children of their own to lead to Him. When I walk through a valley, I remember that this is not the end. This is the term, and my longing for Home is the dream right now. But one day, one day soon, really, the dream will end. I cannot wait for the day that God will hold my face in His hands, look into my eyes, and say, "The dream is ended: this is the morning. You are Home. This is your land."

But until then, Dearest One, I'll live. I'll live here and now. But you need to help me not waste any more days, forgetting what matters, forgetting that dreams can be real, wishing to be grown-up. While I'm here, though, know that I'm thinking of Home. I'm thinking of magical lands where time flies by while it stands still. Where I am a queen. That's what I was made for. And one day, I'll be there with you.

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"
"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.
"Are--are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.
"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."
--The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis

Let me know You. And may my times with You in my dreams and in my Narnias help me to know You better here.

This post is lovingly dedicated to the Rings.