Friday Observation. Faith

Time passed in its own way. In the meantime the younger brother had grown up enough to continue the family business started by their parents in the nineties. For the brother this occupation had apparently become close to his heart, while Liene had spent all this time doing it driven by a sense of duty. Feeling no return on and no contribution from her efforts, Liene increasingly gave herself over to solitude in the shed at the back of the house, which since childhood had served as a "base" for both her and her brother. The town was stricken by decay and a large part of the young people of Liene's age had already gone off in search of a better life, while those who remained had either taken to drink or found their calling in regulated state work and a large brood of children. Liene stayed and gave herself more and more to melancholy.

If someone in the town was born or died, it was a noteworthy event, though in time even that became just another reason to drink. One day the usual calm of the town was stirred by the news that a new assistant pastor had arrived. A young man, around thirty. With dark, slightly curly hair, and regardless of the weather he was noticeable in a quaint waistcoat and brown leather sandals. Unspoiled by life's hardships, his gaze was always directed somewhere into the distance, as if constantly awaiting someone's arrival.

At an August service the young pastor came forward with an announcement that one could sign up for a Christian camp, which would take place for ten days in a row at some remote manor. Many years earlier this manor, with its outbuildings, land and large apple orchard, had been bequeathed to the church by a certain Russian lady who, fleeing persecution at the beginning of the last century, had married a devout Latvian farmer here. Liene signed up. That same evening, at the dinner table, she announced her decision to the household, who strangely enough did not even object.

Eleven young people gathered at the camp from various congregations. Much the same fellow sufferers as Liene - one wearied by the burden of fate, another having lost faith and identity. Yet each one hoped to regain here at least a little of life's sweet pie. Evenings followed mornings; time passed tidying up the surroundings, preparing food, praying and giving oneself over to afternoon debates on biblical themes. The young pastor had settled into his element and often these conversations stretched until late dusk, leaving both household chores and supper forgotten. Liene felt a sense of belonging to the congregation, not so much because she had found kindred spirits here, but rather the biblical stories reinforced the illusion of her role and place in this world. For the first time Liene wove a wicker basket, and she did so with genuine love and joy.

On the last morning, having gathered a few dozen apples in the orchard for breakfast, she set off in the direction of the manor. On her way back she met the pastor, and Liene, with a broad smile, held out a rosy, large apple to him. The pastor smiled back and grasped the apple. Pausing a moment, the pastor asked whether Liene was ready to go home? "Yes," replied Liene, "I think I have recovered the faith that I am capable of believing."

Have a lovely weekend!

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