It seemed necessary just then to touch base with the Lord. Shutting my eyes, I leaned into the horse. I prayed in words for a little while . . . and then language went away and I prayed in a soft high-pitched lament any human listener would've termed a whine. We serve a patient God. . . . Andreeson, who I'd despised, now appeared to my mind as he might've to a worried brother. Talk about an unwelcome change. There in the cold, curled against Mr. Ford's sighing horse, I repented of hatred in general and especially that cultivated against the putrid fed. A pain started up, as of live coals inside, and like that I knew where he was. Knew, with certainty, why he hadn't come back out of the blizzard. I began to weep. Not only for Andreeson-weeping seems to accompany repentance most times. No wonder. Could you reach deep in yourself to locate that organ containing delusions about your general size in the world-could you lay hold of this and dredge it from your chest and look it over in daylight-well, it's no wonder people would rather not.
( Leif Enger )
[ Peace Like a River ]
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