The word “Narnia” finds its way into my conversations several times each winter. I’ll exclaim, “It’s Narnia!” when I see wooded land covered in crisp snow. Maybe I say “Narnia” more than I’m letting on…OK, so I say it all the time in the winter. Clearly, I like snowy Narnia.
The kids from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe walked into a dark closet — going back, back, back into the blackness until they found Narnia. There, beyond the fur coats and pine needles, was brilliant country where they lived out their adventures.
The closest that I’ve come to finding a real Narnia was cross-country skiing at night, but that’s a whole other entry. For now, I’m stuck standing in front of a wardrobe.
I grew up with the understanding that the youngest child of a family was usually the wildest. The fewer worries, fewer reservations, fewer responsibilitiess, fly-by-seat-of-your-pants kid. Maybe that was true of me when I was much smaller, but not anymore! For the present me, walking into a dim and mysterious wardrobe is like petting a cat backwards. I’ll claw you.
However, Narnia is set beyond the wardrobe. I don’t know how many Narnia’s I’ve missed in my life because I’ve been terrified to walk through a dark closet to get there. I pray it isn’t many, and I pray that I’ll have the courage to walk through the next one.