Lögberg-Heimskringla - 15.02.2015, Blaðsíða 16

16 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • February 15 2015
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It was a bleak day and Páll might have walked past the grey concrete church if
the bell hadn’t started pealing
as he neared. It can’t hurt to
step inside from the drizzle,
he thought, so he slipped
through the heavy wooden
doors. Shaking off the rain, he
slid into the back pew as the
bells gave way to the organ.
Then silence. Papers
rustled. Then more silence.
A musty odour permeated the
air.
The priest stared briefly
at this last soul to arrive as
he rose to speak and, still
chilled from the weather, Páll
paid little mind to the words
that flowed from the priest’s
lips, save for the phrase, “we
see through a glass darkly.”
Was that the Bible? Or Lewis
Carroll? Páll was puzzled.
His mind wandered
elsewhere as the priest
launched into his sermon.
The cleric’s voice became a
low murmur as this dampened
fellow near the door conjured
up images of Alice from the
storybooks of his childhood.
While the priest droned on,
Páll’s mind slipped through
the looking-glass, so to speak,
and he found himself in a place
as mysterious as the church
seemed irrelevant.
The air felt heavier when
Páll withdrew from the church
and resumed his walk towards
the harbour. The glass concert
hall stood in sharp contrast
to the place he had just left
and, rather than luring him
in seeking respite from the
weather, its glistening panes
triggered his curiosity and
wonder. The light seemed
magnified once he was inside
and, out of the corner of
his eye, he noticed a coffee
vendor. The scent of java drew
him leftward and he took his
place in a short line.
“Tíu dropar, gjörðu
svo vel,” he muttered as he
slipped a packet of sugar
cubes into his shirt pocket.
The girl pushed a small cup
across the counter. Cup in
hand, he made his way over
to a bench near the windows
overlooking the harbour. The
masts of the sailboats reached
skyward, but the water
glistening around their hulls
competed with the sky for his
attention. The rippling waves
brightened as they reflected
the growing sunlight, which
had finally broken through the
clouds.
Bit by bit, snippets of the
sermon came back to Páll,
yet they seemed as distant
from this day as the ancient
scripture that had inspired
them. Do we really see
through a glass darkly, he
wondered, or do we darken
its reflections with our own
brooding? It had been a
difficult week — a difficult
year, in fact — but surely his
prospects were brightening.
He wasn’t broken; he was
simply tested. Somehow, the
world still offered more than
a glimmer of hope. Maybe it
was the light, maybe it was
the caffeine, maybe it was just
this place — but whatever it
was, his spirit lifted as he sat
gazing at the harbour. Looking
through the pastel tints of
these windows, he was seeing
through a glass lightly.
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Through
a glass
lightly
Stefan Jonasson
Winnipeg, MB
We offer help to descendents of
the emigrants who are looking
for their roots in Iceland.
For those who have decided to
visit Iceland, we offer help in
planning their journey.
Phone 354.473.1200
E-mail vesturfarinn@simnet.is
www.vesturfarinn.is Kaupvangur 2, Hafnarbyggð 690 Vopnafjörður, Iceland
Vesturfaramiðstöð Austurlands
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Pure. Natural. Unspoiled.
This is Iceland.
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642-5504Ernest Stefanson
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Melissa Jacobs
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PHOTO: STEFAN JONASSON