He took the bucket from her and helped her down the bank as
if she hadn’t gone to the river for water a hundred times herself, and he sank
the bucket into a pool and brought it up, brimming, and poured half of it back.
The crouching was a little stiff and he smiled at her—I am old. “I don’t need
much at all,” he said. “A few waterskeeters won’t do any harm.” He was dressed
in his preacher clothes, and he was careful of them, but he liked being by the
river, she could tell. “What do you think? Up there in the sunshine or down
here by the water?” Then he said, “Oh, I left the Bible lying on the grass. I
could do it from memory. But I like to have a Bible, you know, the cloud of
witnesses.” She didn’t know. “Since there aren’t any others.” She still didn’t
know. No matter. He was glad to be doing this … So it must mean something.
When you were baptised, did you have a
clear understanding of what it meant? Do you have a clear understanding now? How
has your understanding changed? Give thanks for knowing and for mystery, and
for the capacity for growth.
Reading from Marilynne Robinson Lila (London: Virago, 2014), 86-7.
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