Further Up & Further In

Never Alone

Aslan was watching them always. He said he would, after all, (or he would say so, when Lucy asked him. He never bothered about the times. All times were soon, and in their own way, all times were Now.)

In England he knew them before they knew him, of course. He wasn't a lion there. He hadn't walked that earth in quite a while, but he still had eyes on all his children. Frank, the farm boy-turned-London-cabby sat with his wife, Helen, (Nellie - Aslan was fond of their nicknames for each other -) at the dinner table and prayed over their meal. Aslan heard each word, though they were prayed in another name. It was still him. He still understood.

Not too far away, there were two children who hadn't quite met yet, though they would soon enough. One, a clever little girl named Polly. The other, a determined boy named Digory. They had many adventures waiting for them, Aslan knew, and he couldn't wait to guide them - to meet them face to face in a new world, as he once would have done in their own.

And then, years later, but still (always) in his field of vision, there were another four children preparing to evacuate London and flee to the country (or another country. They didn't know this yet, but they'd find it soon.) The oldest was Peter, and Aslan could see something magnificent bubbling under his pale skin. He'd be a great king, it was decided. Then came Susan, a gentle girl, ever watching over her siblings, already in the process of becoming a great queen. Third was Edmund. At the moment he was far from what he was destined to be, but there was an inate sense of wisdom and justice deep within his soul, if ever he chose to use it. And lastly there was Lucy. She had a brave spirit - valiant, as it may be - and a kind heart and a pure soul, and Aslan knew she would know him right away. She was looking for him, though she didn't know it yet, - rather like another Aslan knew of, who was centuries away (or only years) yet already searching.

There were more. The Pevensies had a cousin named Eustace - Aslan had great plans for him - and there was a schoolgirl named Jill, and countless of children and women and men who would never come to know him under this name, but already knew him quite well under another. Aslan watched them always.

Then came Narnia - he sang it into being, sang like his Father spoke - and with it, the chance to walk beside his children once more. Frank and Helen - that dear cabby and his wife - would stay longest. Forever, in fact. They'd be the first king and the first queen, and Aslan loved them well. He was always with them, even when they could not see him. He'd never abandon or forsake them.

The next longest were those four children, those great children, those kings-and-queens-in-the-making. They stayed in Narnia and reigned for 15 years, never alone. Aslan called them into Narnia. He saved them and walked beside them. It was quite a pleasant experience - to be touched and talked to, not the way adults do, but in the way only kids know how. He'd said it before - "let the children come to me," - but here he felt it again. The openness, the readiness, the obedience, and bravery, and love that children know in a way most others don't. Aslan chose them for a reason. Aslan loved them.

And as they were crowned - kings and queens at last, as intended - Aslan went on. He needn't stay. (He didn't go.)

Sometimes he left footprints - sometimes he was seen and embraced and acknowledged. Sometimes he was heard and listened to.

But other times? Other times he let them think they walked alone.

If they paid attention, they would still feel him - he'd be a soft breath of wind on their cheek, or the sudden song of a bird when they most wanted to hear one. Lucy looked for him often - in dances and song and conversation and worship and prayer - and found him often, too, even when his face did not appear. She understood, he thought. She understood that he was always with her.

Edmund seemed to understand, too, in that silent, pensive way of his. The words rarely escaped his lips, but he reached out his thoughts, and found peace at the crash of the ocean and the noise of laughter dancing through the halls behind him. He found Aslan in those moments of peace and joy. He found Aslan watching him, and guiding him, even when he felt distant.

And Peter would sit alone, in the quiet, gazing out at the woods and up at the stars, and in his struggles he would feel a warm breath on his cheek, and in his thanksgiving he would see birds fly triumphantly from their trees. How could he ever be alone? How could he not know Aslan was with him, when he experienced him anew every moment?

Then was Susan, who perhaps felt alone more than the others. She didn't see him in a sunset, or feel him in the wind, or hear him in a song. But he still came to her. In her worst moments, she sometimes felt a lion's kiss on her cheek, and a sudden burst of courage. When she felt unstable, she sometimes felt a large presence at her back, soft and warm and steady. In these moments, she knew.

And when they went back to England, Aslan stayed with them, too. He always found words to send to Lucy, and always delighted Edmund with thunder in response to his prayers, and always brushed Peter's face with a gust of wind. Susan didn't feel him behind her anymore, but he was there, as much as he could be. He supported her through the arms of her brothers. He loved her through the arms of her sister. He'd never leave her alone. Not truly.

He'd be watching them always. He'd promised.