Life’s Quest

Stories of quests and tasks carried out in the name of love of a princess are the stuff of fairy tales. Or are they? Only just today, I learned of three sons, who had returned recently from their own quests, to prove their love.
It all started with the most tragic of scenes. Tucked away in his bed in the nursing home, an old man lay dying. Gathered round him were his three loving sons, Nathan, Caspian and Trevor. They were, by most accounts, ordinary boys, with ordinary lives, from an ordinary family. And the old man, too, was, by all accounts, ordinary.
But as many do as they approach unknown demise, he had questions – questions that must be answered urgently.
And, as most sons do as parents fade away, the boys found within themselves a willingness to set aside their own mundane wants, to answer the needs of their loved one.
So, each drew near as the father begged his request.
“I need to know, before I die, what hidden value, what meaning, what significance there is to each of our lives. I need to know “why.” Because only when I know “why” and “what” will I be happy to accept the “when” of my departure.
The meaning of life? A simple request! But each child agreed to do his best, though at least two already knew the answer. Caspian, unfortunately, was the slowest of the bunch. To him, this was a monumental task, to be undertaken with the greatest of diligence.
For Trevor, he knew where to go, and he wasted no time. Not just because the nurse had whispered to him, in a brief aside, “Be quick. Your father has not long to live.” But also because Trevor knew that the meaning of life, so simple, provided him with his greatest of joys.
Even so, to be quick at any time was no easy task for Trevor. His huge girth, more amply spread through years of experienced pleasures, was a heavy load, gladly borne. Nonetheless, Trevor was glad to accept his assignment of love, and he would not fail his father in that.
Nathan, too, was eager to be off. He hated the depressed aura hanging heavy over the nursing home. Surrounded by old age, frailty, pain, suffering and dying, he could feel his high spirits and boundless energy draining from him, fatal ounce upon ounce. His father’s chore meant Nathan would not have to visit that tomb for some time. And, when he returned to reveal his great secret to Dad, he felt certain that his father could cross into his new life in peace. For Nathan had known, since his very childhood, the meaning of life.
The task, though, weighed hard on Caspian. Lacking the youthful exuberance of his brother Nathan, or the vast elite knowledge and experience of Trevor, Caspian had spent his life listening intently, observing closely, digesting carefully, each experience, each situation, each moment. For Caspian knew that he was not as bright and intuitive as his brothers, and he knew that he must strive harder to understand, to compensate for his failures.
It was to be Caspian that provided the millstone that dragged down quick resolution of the task. Days dragged by, then weeks. Nathan, always on the move, found he grew more impatient with each day, but, as the brothers had agreed to present their solutions jointly to their father, he was compelled to wait. Trevor, though, was unfazed by the delay; a delay that allowed him to indulge himself lavishly. Caspian pedantically toiled through the job given to him, needing to be sure he found precisely what his dear father had asked.
One day word arrived to each of the boys that the old man would not last the night. Each hastened to his bedside.
“What have you learned, what have you brought me?” wheezed the father.
Trevor, the eldest, presented first.
He pressed lightly on the buzzer beside the hospital bed, and momentarily, several orderlies arrived, each pushing a covered metal cart.
“I wanted to present my answers for you more spectacularly, but with the greatest haste, I brought you a few of the finest samples of the meaning of life.”
With that, Trevor uncovered gleaming tray upon gleaming tray within the carts in the room. Layer upon layer of the finest entrees, sinfully sweet desserts, and carafes, beakers and bottles of wines lined the racks and rows. Intensely beautiful aromas filled the room. Each son’s mouth watered with anticipation.
“The meaning and purpose of our lives is obvious. Live each moment to enjoy its greatest pleasures. Fine wines, exquisite foods, sensual desserts. And stimulating friends with which to share. For God has given us no greater gift than the gifts of our senses: our vision (soak up the beauty of each of these dishes), our ears (hear the sizzle, the fizz, the crunch and swish of each sampled morsel), our nose (smell the bouquet of the fine wines, the sweet delight of lush desserts), our tongue (savour each bite, each momentous mouthful). Life is meant to be tasted, digested, indulged to its fullest.
The old man smiled a contented smile, memories of shared moments, enjoyed indulgences with great friends of years past flooding over him.
“Yes, it is true. Some of life’s greatest pleasures are as you say. You have made me feel so much better. You have always been such a comfort, and have always been able to satisfy my most pressing needs of the moment. Indeed, what you say may be true, and I am surely blessed to have such a sensitive, caring son.”
He sighed, wishing he could savour more of those moments past, but knowing that the end was near and there was to be no more such carefree experiences. Tears clouded his eyes as he viewed the near future forlornly.
“And you, my son, so full of vigour and energy. What does my son Nathan bring to me to help me on this most unpleasant journey?”
Nathan was quick to respond.
“I can offer you no scrumptious meals, no fine wines. I can only bring you these.”
With that, he laid in front of his father dozens of medals, ribbons and trophies.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but the meaning of life is life lived to the maximum. It is a life for the young. There is no greater joy than to feel the rush of the wind as you plummet down a mountainside that has never before seen a ski. Nothing compares to the wild ride of a race car so powerful that you must merely hold on to survive. No thrill can surpass the challenge of meeting your foe in a one-on-one battle to the finish. There is no more satisfying moment than the moment of conquest, a deep-sea dive, a game of chance, a risk well-taken. Life’s reward is in victories, and wins, and being the best. It is to be lived with all your energy until you can go no further.”
“But, dear father, I fear I offer you no comfort, for you are now denied all these pleasures, and I am sorry for you.”
With that, the boy burst into tears, for both his father’s lost life, and the realized inevitability of his own impending loss.
The old man summoned frail energy to stroke Nathan’s bowed head.
“No, no.,” he muttered. “You are wrong, even though you are right. Life is to be enjoyed. Life is to be pushed to the maximum. And, in my day, I can tell you, there was no greater joy than the joy of competition, of games played well, of challenges well-met. I’m proud to have such a wise son.”
With that, the father looked to the last, and least son.
“Poor Caspian. I am afraid that I have set before you an impossible task. But be assured, son, that I love you no less if you have failed to find an answer for me. Tell me, though, have you found anything which may be of comfort to me in my final night on this earth?”
Caspian drew close, and with neither the pomp of his brother Trevor, or the energy of his brother Nathan, he laid on the blankets his little treasures he had gathered over the past weeks.
All in all, they seemed greatly insignificant. Two twigs, three stones, and some sand.
The two other brothers looked at each other, then shrugged. It was, after all, Caspian. The old man, too, in spite of low expectations, was clearly disappointed.
“So tell me, son, why are these your life’s treasures? Why do they hold the meaning of life?”
Caspian picked up the first branch.
“I can only tell you what was revealed to me. I’m not sure I really understand, either. This tree, for example. A willow. It grows unsheltered from the world, exposed to the wind. But each day, as the wind tears at it, the willow grows more supple, more flexible, more forgiving, more graceful. Why, just look at its slender leaves, feel its smooth, glistening bark. In spite of the harsh wind, and because of that harsh wind, it has developed such beauty.”
The father hesitated, then nodded.
“Quite true, my son. I had not seen how beautiful it was, how strong the willow is in spite of adversity. Thank you for that. But what of your remaining treasures?”
Next, Caspian held up the second limb.
“Now the oak is quite different. Look at its bark. How rough, tough and gnarled it is. But, do you know that even when you cut off this limb and let it die, it does not wither and grow weak? No, as it dries, it hardens even more. Why, as oak dries, it clamps harder and harder at anything that may try to penetrate its surface. And, it’s so hard, that even in death it does not crumble to nothing like lesser trees and plants might. Yet, this oak finds such great strength after scores of years being cruelly beaten by winter winds, killing droughts, and the harshest, most piercing sun, year after year after year. In its death it is more beautiful than in its life!”
A gleam of hope lighted the old man’s eyes. “Even after death it becomes stronger, more beautiful, more enduring, you say? Isn’t that a wonder.”
And he patted Caspian’s shoulder.
The other two sons looked at each other quizzically.
“But there are more treasures. What of them?”
Caspian warmed to his task.
“Look closely at this sand,” he said. “Run it through your hands, and remember its feel on your toes on the oceanfront. Feel the sun’s warmth that it holds, just for you. But remember, Dad, that that very sand has been buffeted and tossed about for centuries by waves, dragged countless miles across the ocean floor, ground into dust, and left to waste away on miles of beach front. Yet, men take those silica crumbs, heat them liquid hot and shape them into exquisite crystal glass objects of beauty. The very brutality of their lives leads these sand crumbs into new lives of beautiful creations, creating pleasure for all who see them.”
That was welcome news for the aged patient. He saw himself emerging into a new life of exquisite wonder, released from the pains of this world, and part of a new creation of God’s great world.
“I need hear no more. You have surely revealed all I need to know about the meaning of life.”
“No, Dad, I have more to show you.”
Caspian placed the first stone in his father’s hand.
“What do you feel?”
“Why, nothing more than a rough piece of limestone. What should I feel?”
“Feel its history. Old fossils buried within. Silt, and clays, and rotting organisms, all melded together. All buried deeper and deeper under the heavy weight of new life, dead life, decaying life. Water spilling over the rock, leeching out its heart and soul, bit by bit, and carrying those valued minerals into little statues of crystalline beauty. Stalagmites and stalactites in intricate shapes. Yet all of this from the living of life in all its complexities, the wasting and decay of life, in turn feeding new life, but with none of the history, the contributions of each life lost. Why, just look at this little piece of rock, and you can see the entire past, all laid out clearly. Not one life forgotten.
A great light of joy lit the old man’s face.
“One’s life never forgotten, eh? You mean, I can be remembered forever? I’m not ever going to completely leave this world, or be forgotten by it? This limestone rock is surely a treasure!”
And he held it tightly to his chest.
“Go on, my son, reveal more to me!”
Caspian cradled his second last treasure briefly, before handing it to his brothers.
“What do you think of this one?” he asked.
“Why, it’s just a piece of granite,” said Trevor. “Nothing more.”
“Yes, I’ve seen granite hundreds of times before. What significance does it have?”
The old man, eager now to learn, turned the stone over and over.
“It’s more than granite. Look, there’s quartz, and mica, and feldspar. Right son?”
“Right , Dad. Quartz, thick veins of quartz so pure. Yet it’s thick veins of quartz that often carry man’s most treasured metal – gold. And mica. Without it, our greatest inventions may not have been possible. Why, for almost every electrical or electronic application, mica forms the core. What of feldspar? That sand you held may be entirely made of tiny crystals of feldspar. No glass no mirror, nor delicate crystal can exist without the processing of feldspar. So, even just this rock holds valuable material treasures. But this rock comes from the depths of this earth, pieces bonded together through extreme pressures, incredible, volcanic heat, eons and eons of time. So strong is this collection of particles, that sometimes the heaviest mallet cannot break it apart. Just like this family, bonded together for life through the individual strengths and virtues of each part of it. Bonded together through the greatest challenges.”
“Yes, family, and love, and bonds that can’t be broken. That is, for sure, the meaning of life.” The old man looked lovingly at his son, and each son looked at the other with new love and respect. “But there can be no greater meaning to life. Yet, you have one fragment left to show me still. How can that be?”
“Look closely, Dad.” Caspian handed the last rock to his father. “What is it?”
His father gasped. “Why, it’s a diamond! Why did you bring me this, so valuable, yet of so little worth to me now?”
“Because my dear father, I want to tell you how much this diamond represents the great gift of life you have given me. The purest of stones. Yet, so hard that nothing else is stronger. So clear and precise, that everything is seen more brilliantly through it. So alive that it captures even the brilliance of the sun and the stars. Yet it is nothing more than carbon: decayed life, pressured beyond coal to the greatest, the most extreme. Subjected to everything that life can throw at it, yet made more pure, more brilliant, more valuable, more perfect, for each new experience, for each new crisis, for each new pleasure it experiences. This diamond is life itself. A life improved each moment of each day, until, at the very end, it reaches perfection. For you, my father, for this diamond is you.”
With that, each son drew near, to hug their father, as he breathed his lastly happily. For he knew how valuable and valued he was, now, and for ever. And how perfect his life, with all its flaws had been. He was, after all, loved.

Often, life’s greatest trials are life’s most valuable treasures. Enjoy each moment.