Noah was the last one out. The last person, anyway. The animals were all still there, behind him in the ark, restless, smelling the fresh air and seeing the full light for the first time in a year. (A whole year! Gone.) There was a lot of work to be done, bringing them out and sending them on their way. They’d need to build corrals and cages out here for some - goats, sheep, camels, rabbits, birds. They’d want to take them along when they set out for home. God would look after the rest.
He’d never been up a mountain before. He was a farmer, after all. From up here, it looked like the world went on forever. Maybe this is what God sees.
He thought he had a rough idea of where they were and figured that if they set out that way and followed that ridge they should come to the big river, if it was still a river… He felt that old familiar wrench. What would the world be now? What about his house, that he’d built of mud bricks, room by room, with his own hands, and helped by his brothers, and then his sons. What about the big sycamore tree at the crossroads on the way to town? What about the town? If it was still there, he didn’t think he could face it. Empty.
He shook his head and took a deep breath and turned his attention to the sky. He thought about first the night that the clouds had started to clear, little gaps here and there shocking him with glimpses of a depth that he’d never seen in all of his life. With blackness that was… just black, pierced everywhere by stars. The sky itself had changed. It was bluer, higher, stronger. And when the sun rose… Another deep breath. Surely it hadn’t been like that before.
Someone laughed and he turned to look. The women were sitting on the end of the ramp, shoes off with their feet on the rocks, rediscovering the sharpness, soaking up the sun. The young men were – what on earth were they doing? Kicking rocks at each other? Putting handfuls of dirt down each others’ backs and in their hair. Ducking and laughing and shouting for their audience. So alive. Coming back to life.
He’d been so grateful, so gratified, when they’d agreed to join him in this… craziness. “God told me to build a boat.” “OK. How do you build a boat?” It had all come together, somehow and when it was finished and all of the animals in place, they’d moved in. All of them. Living together in a boat on a farm, up a ramp and 2 flights of stairs. They’d had more company, that week. Their friends, their neighbours. Their neighbours’ children, come to see the animals…
Then the day came God raised the ramp and shut them in. They’d stood at the high windows to watch what would happen and the rain began to fall and at first, it was just curious. Strange. They’d stretched to catch the drops in their hands. Never seen that before. But then the water started coming up, out of the ground, somehow, and it was… awful. Such power. Their friends. Their neighbours. Their neighbours’ children.
They’d been forced to close the windows and for 40 days, they lived in the dark, with only oil lamps. Hearing the sounds of water and wind and, every now and then, something bumping up against the ark, or scraping. The dark was disorienting, not knowing whether it was day or night, sleeping at strange times. He thought they’d probably eaten a lot. Drank a little more than usual. There was no word from God.
One day, the rain stopped and the seas calmed. He’d spent the day expecting to hear from God. It had been 40 days, but there was no word that day, or the next, or the next. So they waited and worked and ate and slept. For months, everyday, they’d scanned the water for something that looked like land, day after day. They’d laughed early on about each other’s sun burnt noses, but the novelty wore off. Still no word from God.
Then the day when somebody spotted something that might just be a wave, but it looked different and they’d watched that spot until it was clearly rock. God didn’t say anything.
Then for 2 more months, they’d measured it against the day before and the day before and it got bigger and bigger and they started to hope. But still there was no word.
Then the day when there was a tremendous bump and a scraping and for the first time in ages, they stood still. No more rocking, no more drifting. The stillness made them a little seasick. But still there was no word from God. Or the next day or the next or the one after that. He listened, but heard nothing. So they waited more. Watched more until the day when finally, finally, finally, the word came.
Noah could have cried to hear God’s voice again. He hadn’t really thought they’d been forgotten, but it had been so long and it’s so easy to ask the wrong questions and to try to answer them yourself.
So here they were. It was over. It was just beginning. God had remembered. As God always does.
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