A Royal Hour

Even knowing as I do the power of a living book, I am often surprised by the different ways in which my children end up inspired. Take last night as an example. We were listening to Prince Caspian in the van on our way to and from confession. No great surprises there—we had read this book ages ago but thought it good to refresh our memories before attending the movie.

Dusk had fallen by the time we’d left the church, and on the way home we listened to the scenes in which Doctor Cornelius takes Caspian to the roof of the castle tower—first to speak to him about Narnia and then, years later, to tell him he must leave.

I love these scenes, especially the lines:

“He sat up in bed and saw that the room was full of moonlight. Doctor Cornelius, muffled in a hooded robe and holding a small lamp in his hand, stood by the bedside. Caspian remembered at once what they were going to do. He got up and put on some clothes. Although it was a summer night he felt colder than he had expected and was quite glad when the Doctor wrapped him in a robe like his own and gave him a pair of warm, soft buskins for his feet. A moment later, both muffled so that they could hardly be seen in the dark corridors, and both shod so that they made almost no noise, master and pupil left the room.”

It is magical, really, to hear such words being read aloud—in this case, by the inimitable Lynn Redgrave—and to “live” the events, as it were, as a family.

It was very late when we got home and the girls were quickly tucked in bed. My 10-year-old son, however, lingered at my bedroom door in the way that kids do when they’ve something to ask you.

“I was wondering,” he said, “If I could make your holy hour with you tomorrow.”

My holy hour is from 4:00 to 5:00 a.m. My first response was to say no—we’d had a big day…he needed his sleep…tomorrow’s the procession…etc.

Five minutes later he was back at my door—neatly dressed in jeans and a warm sweater.

“Well, if you do decide to take me, I’ll be ready.”

My husband and I had to laugh at his persistence. We also asked ourselves, “Why not?’

And so I roused my son at the crack of dawn—long before that, actually—with the words, “Wake up, Caspian! You must flee the castle!” He smiled at that and I smiled to have him. He was wonderful company.

It occurred to us that this was his first holy hour—and on the Feast of Corpus Christi, to boot. Was it a living book that inspired him? You bet it was. Even better, though, was the way that the Living Word spoke the loudest.

Happy Feast of Corpus Christi! And may God bless you & yours.