“One word, Ma’am,” [Puddleglum] said. . . “Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things. . . Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. . . That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.”
C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
Like a fog that silently creeps over the hills and settles over the town resting on its hillside, so does evil’s long wispy fingers of sleep and death reach out to grasp its prey. The haze closes in on you until you can’t find your way out.
But there is hope, for just before Puddleglum made this bold statement, he put his hand in the fire. The searing pain jolted him awake from the Witch’s deceptive lullaby.
Surrounding every one of Aslan’s Warriors, is such a battle. To contest this, requires a boldness and an alertness that must be fought for. Every man, woman and child that fights is a Warrior of Aslan’s.
Oh to be a true Narnian. To enter the Wardrobe and never have to leave. To run where talking creatures run and fly. Where time stands still, and greatness is the true test of time. Where romance and adventure take flight. But with the adventure comes a great and terrible battle; a cause that all true Narnians must defend. There will be blood, there will be tears, but in the end there will be sweet victory.
For every hand burnt in the fire, there is a hero. For often, to see past the “skin of this world,” and to walk into the Wardrobe is a course marked with the sweetness of pain. Where does life’s journey take you next? I dare say, I hope it is into the Wardrobe.